I'm coming home

[makethatwork]

Who: Clint Barton and YOU
Where: Alpha Force Tower, later Trailblazer dorms
When: TODAY. ...yeah, whatever today is.
What: Clint's back from his leave and is clueless about the things he missed. Like half his team disappearing.
Warnings: none (yet)

Alpha Force Tower

Clint could use a haircut and a shave, but all in all he doesn't look too worse for wear when he clomps into the residential area of Alpha Force tower, bow on his back and dufflebag slung over his shoulder. He's fiddling with one of his hearing aids, since he'd gotten kind of used to not wearing them most of the time so it's like getting used to them all over again, but otherwise he mostly looks way more relaxed and less likely to flip out than he did in the immediate aftermath of Mockingbird and Captain Victory's deaths.

"Hey, anyone home?" he calls out. "Fi, I brought you a souvenir!"

Trailblazer Dorms

In the wake of finding out that half of his team has disappeared without a trace, Clint wasn't really sure what to do with himself. "Disappeared" doesn't mean "dead", which is a blessing, but that doesn't make him feel that much better. A shower and a shave later, he's still pretty scruffy, but he feels like he should be doing... something.

And that something, he figures, is he should check on the Trailblazer kids. He always tried to keep an eye on them, even outside of the official mentoring or training, and now he's been gone for more than half a year. If nothing else, he knows there's new kids that he hasn't met yet, and he should do that. He shows up at the dorms and just hangs out in the living area, waiting to say hi to whoever comes by.

Comments

[makethatwork]

"I actually did not know that," Clint mumbles to himself. It's actually a little comforting to know CONDOR couldn't make a fully sapient AI. Yet.

"So," he says, after processing the description Legion gives of themselves, "you're saying you were made by aliens."

No, Clint, he's saying he was made in Detroit.

[chapterfiveversenine]

"Correct; Rannoch's native sapient organics are called quarians." Legion's eye aperture narrows slightly. "We are modeled after their own anatomy."

[makethatwork]

"Huh." The quarians must have really tiny heads. "Well, that's cool. Like I said, welcome aboard. What do you do, hack things? Punch them?"

[chapterfiveversenine]

"We are capable of both." Younger runtimes in the consensus note yet again that organic interface is highly inefficient, and are reprimanded by older ones. "We utilize mass effect fields to alter our own mass and that of a target in order to increase combat capability. We are also equipped with a propulsion system for flight."

[makethatwork]

Even organic interfaces tend to think Clint Barton is highly inefficient at communicating. If that's any consolation.

"Cool, cool." Clint nods. "I have no idea what that means, but it sounds badass."

[chapterfiveversenine]

"We can demonstrate," Legion says, and shifts. "Please fire an arrow in any direction you choose."

[makethatwork]

"Yeah, okay." Clint grabs his bow, and an arrow (suction tip, so Celestia won't get disappointed that he put holes in the drywall... again), and shoots past Legion's head, forcing the AI to turn around to do his thing.

[chapterfiveversenine]

Legion's torso twists sideways as their hand comes up to shoulder level. A blue glow envelops the arrow three-fourths of the way to the wall, and it clatters to the ground.

"We increased its mass by a factor of sixteen," the platform reports dutifully. "Its weight experienced a corresponding increase."

[makethatwork]

A slightly awe-struck grin stretches across Clint's face.

"That is awesome," he says. Hey, give the kid a break, he's a ridiculous showboat on a good day, and that would be a showstopper. "How'd you do that? Like... I dunno, is it magic or some shit?"

[chapterfiveversenine]

"Mass effect fields are generated by electrical stimulation of element zero." Legion twists their platform back to face Clint. "It is alternately called 'eezo'. It is integrated directly into our platform."