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bitebitesnap · 7 days ago

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[System Spark]

(Animatronic!Submas/Reader)

Ch.1 Drones and The Hire

Life is terrible at telling a joke, you've learned. Gears shift and change and during the catastrophic failure of it all you were left to pick up the pieces.

Now, hired on in secret by the only friend you had (who probably only tolerated you for his own amusement by now), you tend to the twin animatronics of Gear Station.

word count: 7259

10Pm. Almost too late. The Station is practically dead, no one is around except a few janitors still doing the night shift.

He checks his watch, then the schedule on the pamphlet. Any moment now the last train of the night would run by and head out to Anville. Any minute he would be able to get off his feet and go straight to bed.

The clock ticks by to 10:05 before he finally sighs, scratching the back of his head, “Damn train running off schedule again..”

He taps his foot, arms crossed while he scowled towards the boarding area. Somewhere the breeze whistled through a hole in the ceiling tiles.

By the time it was 10:15, not even a squeal of the tracks rattled through the tunnels. It was as if it was abandoned entirely-if he hadn't seen one of the janitors packing his things for the night off to the side he'd believe it.

“Arceus-forsaken trains. Never ran this bad when I was a kid.” He scoffs, stuffing the pamphlet into a coat pocket and storming off towards one of the benches. Upon sitting down he pulls of his hat and swats the dust off on his pants, running a hand through his thinning hair in frustration, “Why do I still come to this station…”

Silence, a blessing and a curse. The door to an office clicks shut somewhere far away as the janitor finishes his round. He offers a polite wave to him before hiking the collar of his jacket and tromping up the stairway, leaving him alone in the now completely empty boarding area.

Light flickers above his head like an ominous halo. A creak echoes somewhere down one of the halls. But he's not a child. A bit of eerie air was never anything outside of a playful Ghastly or a psychic type running rampant.

Something down a hallway clunks shut, probably some other janitor leaving for the night.

Click click.

The train would come eventually. It always did-even off schedule it still crawled in as a final check of the night. Supposedly it was a safety measure a long time ago, in case someone got left behind.

Amazing that now he was one of those people-and he'd been the one on time.

Somewhere a low giggling echoed strangely down the halls. Though he glanced towards the empty ticket booth the barest flash of hazy purple had his lip turning a sneer and he promptly ignored it. A draft blows down the stairs, likely bringing more of it;s kin down with it. So he simply pulls his coat closer, closing his eyes.

Click.

Click click.

He could remember when this train station actually cared about how it looked. The benches didn't wobble, the tiles didn;t stick to the sole of his shoes, pokemon didn't wander freely at night-people cared back then. Now it's hardly a station worthy of even having trains when the tracks rattle more intensely than an earthquake. It's almost horrifying how fare its become a shell of itself. It felt more like a disgrace just to come here.

Click click click click.

And what was that dragon-damned clicking?? Did someone let a Klink inside? Were a whole swarm of them just living in the walls now?? At this point he'd be impressed if having pokemon literally living as part of the infrastructure somehow made something in this place work better than the trains shoddy time keeping.

Click click click.

His brow twitched. Barely restrained anger deepened his breath, his hands squeezing the buttons of his coat to the point of embedding the plastic to his palms. Had he a pokemon on him right this moment he'd take care of the problem himself.

But there was silence again. Blissful, merciful silence that soothed the soul in the wake of a bad day turned bad night. He couldn't be this angry from just a pokemon getting rowdy late at night-he was an adult, for dragons sake.

He focused on his breath. In and out until it calmed the irritation boiling over. A peaceful smile formed-he was so close to just falling asleep on this bench right here in the station, train be damned.

His bed was much better though-

Click click THUNK!

Any and all peace he'd had burst like a water balloon the second the damn things decided to pull out of whatever hole they'd crawled into. When the bench rocked underneath him, near tipping backwards from their greedy mitts slamming down on it, his eyes snapped open “Alright what do you want!? I don't have any food on me if that's what you-”

He'd whipped around to glare behind him, fully expecting to see some wild pokemon begging for scraps or a battle. At least maybe if his luck was good he'd get an actual agent, maybe one of the late shifts who could tell him if the train was cancelled for some reason.

Instead he paled, the hat falling out of his hands to the dirty floor. He could barely breathe, frozen in his seat.

Something was in his face. A high collar atop wide shoulders helped block out the fluorescent light, a depot hat on its head. Any cursory glance could have mistaken it as an agent, but it was huge-monstrous as it loomed over him, hands on the bench, leaning down to stare at him.

Click click.

It;s head tilted. Wide, glowing silver eyes stared down from a pitch black face shadowed under the blinding light. Unblinking. Flicking across him until it stopped right in his eyes.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. Cold sweat dripped down his temple.

Click. Click click. Hisss.

A flash of something flat yet wide. Too wide. It's mouth was open, teeth huge and able to eat him whole-

“Passenger, are you alright.”

The words almost drowned out his scream into the nearly empty station.

------------

You take a deep breath. In and out, calm and soothing.

Rough canvas rubs against your fingers, palms scratching over your thighs. The tick tick tick of the blinker goes on in the background, behind closed eyes as you ground yourself. A soft whisper of old sea breeze scented car freshener dangles in the air from the old tree you'd forgotten to replace again. Couldn't replace yet, had to wait, bills were more important.

Bills were why you had gotten here in the first place-

You shook the thought out of your head. Focus. That was secondary.

In the middle of another set of breathing exercises your phone buzzes loudly in the cup holder. You jerk, swearing under your breath as your hands clunk into the roof and a distinct twang forms in your shin from kicking the dash outright. Scrambling to yank the offending thing out of the cup holder you scowl down at the screen blipping to life.

'1 New Message- Purruglie'

A scoff clicks your tongue as you roll your eyes. Not even five minutes, he couldn;t wait for you to message him? It's not like you were late to jobs, punctuality was you thing.

Not like you had much else going on nowadays.

But the irritation fades as you reason with yourself. He wasn't out here looking for you, he had texted. It was likely he was occupied with more important things than you right now, so the easiest method would be to message. Easy in and out, back to work without much delay. Unlike you.

Again you shoo that thought away to instead pop open the message. It was the same as the last one-

'Where are you?'

Except this time he'd read the answer of 'Just outside, got here a bit ago' and replied eloquently with-

'Cool.'

You blink off key at your phone blank faced. And this man was a willing bachelor, oh be still the beating hearts of the eligible female masses.

You stow that away for another miserable day and instead open the text box.

'I'll be in there in a sec'

The bubbles blink at the bottom mere seconds after. He must have been looking at his phone.

'You said that 5 mins ago.'

A glance to the clock. It blinks 12:05. You cringe.

'Just psyching myself up.'

'It's not an interview or anything, you'll get the job you know.'

You did. Far too well. It made you sick to your stomach, yet you held firm like a real adult and did not in fact vomit directly onto the floor like you really wanted to.

'I just don't want-'

The words stop coming. You know what your hand wants to say, the words dangle at the tips of your fingers, ready to type out and burst the bubble of quasi calm you'd somehow pulled together.

'I don't want to get caught.'

The clicking surprised you. The words sat there in the text box, but you hadn't hit send yet. A little blip of pixels where the words ended tried to direct your attention to the glaring green arrow that would blow the entire situation into a mess.

Yet, you resist. Click click click until the words go away, until the knot in your lungs unwinds just enough to regroup your thoughts.

'I know how Dillon is.'

A pause stops the entire conversation the moment the message leaves you. Uncomfortable silence mixes in with the click click of that blinker you still didn't turn off. You do that-anything to take your mind off it.

Ding.

'Yeah.'

You stare. And stare some more.

That's it?

An eye twitches while you click on the keyboard.

'Is he around'

You scowl. He didn't deserve punctuation right now. Rude jerk.

Ding.

'Nope. Out on a lunch meeting with the board right about now so you've got the floor to yourself.'

The breath you didn't even know you were holding huffs loose. The phone bounces on the passenger seat beside your bag while you ignore the little tap of the air freshener against your hand as you rub your eyes. When they refocus you notice the old thing still swaying on the cracked rear view mirror and pinch a corner to stop it before it made you sick.

And finally, your eyes lock in the mirror. It;s a grungy old thing, stained with dark patches that spot your reflection like an old photo yet somehow you look worse. Hair tied back in a ponytail, a few stray hairs sticking out in random directions. You didn't bother with makeup, didn't even pick out a nice looking hoodie to wear-the discoloring on the collar where you'd used bleach to clean out some old stain was very clear on the lavender fabric. Dark rings circle your eyes worse than the one time you;d attempted eyeliner, smeared and almost running down your cheeks like tears.

In a word, awful. In more than one, you looked awful. But as he said, you weren't here to be interviewed-at the least not in a conventional sense. Just in and out, quick easy money to pad out your painfully thin wallet.

Another ping. The phone is picked up, screen warm from extended use.

'You keep wasting time Dillon's going to come back before you can even get a look.'

A brow quirks while you chew on your lip. Nice way to ruin the moment. But when you look at the clock, still burning bright green with the engine, is nearly at 12: 30 you scowl. Hard.

He's right and you hate it.

'Fine fine I'm coming.'

“Piece of shit.” You don't wait for him to answer.

The door creaks awfully when you shove it open-your teeth grind. Bits of crumpled paper rustle around your feet as you step out, picking up the few that followed your heels and tossing them back in. The side bag is tangled up in the spare seat belt-forced to be as unfortunate luck would have you-and it takes far too long to untangle the straps, then yourself from a stray screw just loose enough in the door to catch your hair. With a clunk and a few curses it closes, too many clicks of the key lock it.

Its a junk car. You know it, everyone who takes more than a second to stare at it knows it. Ratty seats full of holes, stuffing long since chewed into by the mice who once lived in them. A paint color similar to mud and spit where rust corroded the chipper sky blue right down to the shell. Both back windows broken, only one replaced-the sheet of cardboard covering the empty slot did jack all to keep the wind out too.

It was all you had. All you could get-and even then it was practically thrown at you with a laugh of good luck.

You glance around the parking lot. Bright shiny vehicles of all sizes filled in scattered slots, some closer to the building while others took their chances out in the further end. Sure, maybe a few seemed worse for wear, but none of them looked like yours. None of them made people question your sanity

Five years. Five years of mental anguish, nose to a book, stuffed in forced roommate living in a tiny dorm. For this-a car that struggled to make it across the street.

Pathetic.

You do your best to shove those thoughts nice and deep into the back of your mind, right next to the other things that keep you up at night as you hoist the bag over a shoulder.

Nobody spared you a glance as you hopped from pavement lot to concrete sidewalk, too busy with their own lives. Neither did anyone on the street give more than a passing wave once the light blinked green, and even then it was only when you looked at them-actively avoided when possible.

Sometimes living in the big city had it;s perks, like people leaving you well enough alone when you wanted to be.

Getting down into the subway doesn't take you more than a few minutes even with dodging traffic. People in general didn't want to be bothered, moving out of your way once they noticed you. Hopping down the stairs of the subway you're on your way into the station before your phone buzzes in your pocket.

'You disappear into a Hoopa ring or something? I've got a salad waitig for me in the cafeteria'

Your eye twitched. You wanted to type so many different and colorful words right now. But you refrained, if only a bit.

'You get away with it this once, asshole.' You type instead as you dig around the bag's contents to pull out a folded mess of a paper. It's worn, torn in the seams where it'd been folded too often and faded highlighter streaks old paths to gateways you weren't using anymore.

It felt like exhuming a body, pulling it out of the dash compartment this morning. There was even a Joltik in there-probably feeding on the wires, but you weren't in the mood to deal with it.

Distantly the call of the conductor echoes down the halls. A bit strange-you're not currently near any tracks, so you shouldn't be hearing anything. But Dillon could have moved people around, which wasn't unusual, so you dismiss it for now.

In any case you haul the strap over your head to balance it against your collar while you shake the map out, ignoring the little puff of dust from its pages. If you're memory was still right, Jackie worked on the out boarding trains most often on weekdays so you;d have the best chances of finding him somewhere around there. With a bit of study the grey lines lead to separate ends of the same line directly to the south of you-one of those has to be outgoing. And judging by the arrows in opposite directions labeled on each side you'd take the one going south.

As usual, it's not even a few minutes of you standing still before it's crowded. People and pokemon wander from the entrance to the ticket booths without sparing you the time of day. Lines form, machines beep and scan, one by one a ticket is given and a passenger goes to their line. Some follow you, swarming around the scuffed marble tiles through a connecting hallway towards the southern line-not a one of them look at you for longer than a second.

All the better for you-you hated the attention.

The hall opens up too soon, taking the peaceful half quiet with it as a screech of brakes nearly deafens you. With a withering glare towards the train screaming to a slow stop you hold the map up. The chatter of the crowd drowns out most of the mechanical grinding while you study the faded writing.

South side of the station, labels matched with the ones on the wall. You look around the crowd.

Now where was the man of the hour?

The conductor calls. His voice is loud, almost booming in your skull. Having been in this station far too much the act of conductors yelling in your ears isn't new-shouldn't be, at least. But this was almost akin to a cannon being shot right next to you, to the point your shoulders crammed your ears to drown it out.

"SOUTHBOUND TO ANVILLE TOWN. SOUTHBOUND TRAIN TO ANVILLE TOWN NOW BOARDING!!!"

You refrain from shouting your distaste for his noise by digging into an ear instead. 'It's just his job', you remind yourself, 'he has nothing to do with your shit life.' The urge remains, sadly.

While the train slowly loads up its passengers you scan the crowds. A few depot agents mill about the masses, nudging trainers to ball their pokemon or pass tickets back to different levels of annoyed patrons. The few pokemon left out of their balls are mostly small pocket types, Eevees clinging to their owners jackets while being held or Riolus wearing their service pokemon jackets standing guard next to their charges. Though a handful are larger, battle ready evolved pokemon who stand vigilant next to their trainers who show badges to the agents to allow their partners to either remain out of their balls or looked over from previous battles. Others follow around the crowds to stay close to their owners as they sardine themselves alongside each other into the subway.

But none of them are who you're looking for. Not a damn one.

You sigh-less so from exasperation and more of a breath to calm down-and pinch the bridge of your nose again.

The conductor calls again, louder than ever, and you flinch. This time an odd static laces his words.

“ALLLL ABOARD!! SOUTHBOUND TO ANVILLE TOWN, LAST CALL!!”

The words ring in your head as both hands fly to cover your ears all too late. It takes a second before you're ready to take them off and even then one continues to ring loudly.

Whoever that was you were hoping you wouldn't be stuck near him the entire time. And that they;d finally fix the dragons-damned PA system.

While the departing train slowly disappears down the northern tunnel someone yells your name, that you can only pick up in your good ear, “Nice to finally see you out of the cave, Golurk. Hope you didn't start collecting Zubats in there."

You don;t bother to look at him while scrubbing out your eardrum, “Unfortunately Zubats prefer friendly people. Last time I talked near one it flew off crying.” You dig out the wax under your nail as your hearing slowly picks back up, him barking a laugh at your expense, “And I haven't been bothering to take in other pokemon, Jack. Can't afford it.”

If you didn't fully believe it'd go straight to his head, you'd compliment how well he stuck out in a crowd. Burgundy hair scraggled around his head, pointing in odd directions in a very convincing noon bedhead. Slate grey eyes give you his signature 'I'm too unbothered by this to care' expression even as he smiled good naturedly. With his jacket undone and collar akimbo like the morning paper after a thorough read one would think he was just another bystander and not one of the many Depot Agents currently running around.

At least he was using his break for someone's benefit.

As he approaches he shrugs off your jab, “Yeah yeah. Still paying off that beater?” He nudges your arm playfully, nearly making you stumble.

You swat him off, “Yes I am. What am I here to fix.” You did not want to discuss budget with him right now.

Mercifully he held his hands up, “Alright alright. No jokes today I guess, grouchy.”

Your brow quirked, “I don't have time today to screw around. Where's the computer you want-”

“INBOUND FROM SOUTH UNOVA! ALL PASSENGERS ARE TO KEEP CLEAR OF THE BOARDING AREA UNTIL THE TRAIN COMES TO A FULL STOP!!”

The second that voice started you slapped your hands over your ears. Still like a Beedril's stingers it bored into your skull and near popped your eardrums yet again. Giving the general area of the station a glare you again dug into your screaming ears, “Who is the fuck is that!? You need to tell him to stop being so loud!” You were screaming over the noise in your ears, to the unfortunate crowd around you, but you could care less.

Jackie for some reason yet unknown to the reasonable people of Unova was more or less unfazed by the noise, “Yeah I know. It's a loud one isn't it?”

“Loud doesn't begin to describe that guy. Who the Hell let him get hired on? And why does Dillon think he's a good fit?” Now that you could hear a reasonable amount you looked out among the station, hoping to maybe put a face to it so you could lodge a complaint about it.

Nah, more likely to just invest in earplugs so you'd keep your hearing intact.

“Well that's kinda the thing. Come on, I'll show you.” He turns away, waving at you over his shoulder. He has just enough time to take off his hat before a stray Pidgey swipes just over his head and like the practiced senior he is, it doesn't even bother him in the slightest. You, however, have no such luck, “Show me what?” You grouse while shoving past a Snorlax fast asleep right in the middle of the way-at least you could feel some pity for the trainer who was trying and failing to shove it awake.

The crowd's only gotten worse with the influx from the recent train. People and pokemon alike are jaunting about going who knows where, flooding the ticket lines for a map or the lone coffee shop for a quick lunch. Pokemon big and small darted about from trainer's letting their teams loose for a checkup to pets being rowdy for little reason. Everyone else clambered together like a swarm of Joltiks after a battery while pouring through the halls towards the stairways.

"Oh you know, something important." He stops just shy of the boarding area just as the conductor screams his lines. A small cringe cracks his expression as he's forced to cover an ear, though he still manages to smile at you while he waves his free hand towards the tracks, “There's your job.”

Though you give him a look, one filled with disgruntled annoyance at being so close to the shrieking in your ears you still turn to face whatever was so important that he called you in the middle of the night about it.

Most of that disgruntlement faded when you stared incredulously.

Sleek, that would be the first word to come to mind. Robust the next, just after 'tall' and 'absolutely unnecessary'.

But tall was an understatement. It loomed over the crowds head and shoulders higher with limbs robust enough to match. Each segment bore thick bulbous steel curved just enough to mimic human anatomy but not so much it seemed like one. Black steel curls around long legs in the vague shape of a tailed coat, minus the stripes of the Subway Boss. It's collar is high enough to cover the majority of it's face as it stayed turned towards the swarming passengers, the brim of it's steel depot hat shadowing it's eyes.

It sways to the tune of its still booming voice box, the black gauntlets swinging outwards towards the ticket booths-somewhere you're overhearing it's much too loud commentary about refreshments through your hands.

"Real handsome one, isn't it? Top of the line, fresh out of the factory type thing." Jackie uncovers his ear as it finally stops its lines, giving the station a bit of reprieve before the train gets going again.

It turns then, placing it's back against a pillar just far enough away from the crowd to be out of the way, but close enough to the boarding area to be of use at all. It's pale eyes face forwards, glowing underneath the brim of its cap. Strips of metal 'hair' frame it's sleek jawline seamlessly like the ram guard of a train. There was even a blue tie attached around it's neck where the collar of a dress shirt had been welded on to add to the drone being part of the subway faculty.

Face locked in a firm frown, it waits with an empty stare off into the station with hands at its' sides.

For a moment, you're just quiet. You feel more than hear Jackie leaning over to give you an expectant look.

“…No.”

“Yes.”

“Dillon did not hire a drone to work in his station.”

“He did.”

Indignance, frustration, and not enough confusion flit about your face as you struggle to grasp any of this until you finally settle on, “….Why?”

He just shrugs, “Publicity.” When you just give him an incredulous look he gestures to the crowds, “See how packed it is today? It isn't normally like this.“ A hand swings out to the ticket booths, "Normally, people just buy a ticket and get on the train going wherever and move on. Sure, it's income but not enough to run a train station like this one. This place is built on old city designs, it needs special upkeep and the old wiring's been giving out for years. It'd take more than double what we make now just to get a specialist in to look at it. Among the other problems that've been stocking up for the past decade alone. So he's allowing this new company to test it's material here.” He shoves his hands into his pockets.

You stare at him before looking at the drone again. It's still being quiet at the moment, not even reacting when a small group nearly bumps into it in it;s odd little space, “What's the company?”

“Some machine manufacturer called Plasmic Enterprises. They make a lot of stuff, but mostly things for the big name places like car factories and the like. This,” He gestures to the drone, “This is their newest idea, currently in beta and using the station as ongoing field testing to work out the kinks.”

With a hum you cross your arms, leaning against a pillar, “So what;s my deal here?"

At that he sighs, “In short it's got a lot of issues. Mainly, it has a habit of roaming around and getting itself lost in empty areas of the station. Somehow it keeps wandering off despite the programming that should be telling it that this is where the people are.” He scratches the back of his head, looking down at you, “There's also the problem of it being creepy.”

“Creepy? Really?” Your brow raises towards him as you adjust the bag against your side, prodding it to see if everything was still there, "Just thought it was designed like that."

“Yeah." He doesn't really try to correct you, "Aside from that apparently some people have seen it wandering around at night when it's supposed to be locked up. I don't know how it gets out but it finds it's way to the boarding area before the trains make their last rounds and shut down for the night. No idea what it does but it's freaking people out.” Crossing his arms he stares at the drone as if it would answer his question.

You hum to yourself. Might be some kind of bug in the logic program-it's not hard to happen, especially with it being as new as it is. As for the escaping part, someone's just footloose with locking them up-or some pokemon's being cheeky, “Well it doesn't sound like it's too big of a deal. Why even call me in?”

“Because it's like their tech doesn't even care. I've told him 'hey your big stupid robot keeps acting like he's some security guard or somethin and it's making people upset' but he just goes on about how the program is about learning and that it 'needs time' or some shit.” Jackie makes a show of waving a hand around to mime talking to someone while rolling his eyes.

Again you glance towards the drone, “So I'm the real maintenance crew here.”

“Pretty much.”

It's small, petty even to bring it up now. Its not like you haven't done work like this before-maybe not in the field you studied but, all programming and wires look the same when you pull the casing apart so what would be the difference? Still, the question leaves you, ”….You're still paying for this, right?”

“Yep.”

You study him then from the corner of your eye. He's still standing beside you, feet exactly where he'd planted them, both hands in his pockets now, cheap yellow plastic clip holding his hat at the perfect height as a secret Joltik holster. Yet, the tension in his shoulders hasn't let up-in fact it almost seems to have worsened the more he talks about the job. You smirk a bit, hoping to break up the nerves he might have as you crack, “You know that if I screw this up it'll be on your neck. How bad is it that you're willing to do what is probably a breach of contract just to get these things working right?”

He doesn;t answer. Instead the gaze he fixes on you is cold as he side eyes you, more serious than you ever seen him, “Bad enough.”

Your smile goes away, eyes dropping to count the tiles. A nervous tap has you fiddling with the corner of the laptop buried in the bag through the fabric.

For all too long it's quiet between you. People come and go around you as if neither of you exist. Pokemon chirp, whir and squawk at each other and trainers while they go about their lives. Ignorant of your own, ignorant of the weight of the moment.

Then Jackie sighs, "Look." You look up at him as he pinches the bridge of his nose, "I know this is a big thing to ask of you. Sure I've called you in for the occasional buggy terminal but this," He waves towards the machine, "From what I;ve seen this is a whole other level. It's on a clearance that not even I know all about. And whatever these two run on-it's a big hush in the upper management. I can't tell you everything but I'll do what I can to help you. Just....please help me out with this." He waves towards the crowd again, though his eyes are still on you.

You look towards the machine, still standing stock still against the pillar. People pass it as if it isn't there, some curious children reaching up to pat the big robot on the hand. It barely flinches, facing forward in standby. The stern frown on it's face and wide, unblinking eyes almost make it ridiculous to look at.

It was probably worth your summer job's pay several times over. A huge risk if you fuck it up.

Or a big payout if you get it working right.

But really, were you in the position to think too hard about the logical answer?

With a long sigh you give in, "Alright. I'll see what I can do with it."

"Thank you." He breathes, "You have no idea how much this'll help me and everyone else here." He sets a hand on your shoulder with a soft smile, even as you brush him off.

"Yeah yeah, just gimme a couple of minutes to hook it up and I'll get to digging around." Crouching down you pull the bag off your neck and start digging around, "I've got a laptop I can use to dig in the programming for a bit, but without a full shutdown I can't get too far. At most I might be able to pull out some surface level bugs and work from there-"

"Whoa whoa wait, you're doing it now?" Jackie's shadow frantically waves his hands at you as he steps closer.

You look up at him confused, "Yeah? Didn't you want me to get to work on it?"

"Yeah but there's a few other things I need to tell you first." Then he flips his cuff over to check his watch and jolts, "Shit, I don't have time for it either. Nearly 1 o'clock right now. Big Stantler's coming back from lunch in about half an hour and I don't need him knowing about any of this."

You wanted to be mad about it. You just got here, you had everything ready. It would only take a minute.

Instead you relent with a sigh as you stuff the cord you'd pulled out right back in, "Great."

"Sorry I, probably should have planned this a bit better."

"It's fine. Not like stick-up-his-ass hasn't given me grief before." Once back on your feet you put the bag over your neck again with a wince. The strap had already indented your skin and left it sore, but it wouldn't be there for as long at least.

"In any case I still wanted you to see one of them at least. It's always out here doing the train announcements, so it's pretty easy to find." He pats your back to start leading you back across the boarding area, keeping you close to not lose you in the crowd.

At first you nod along until something sticks out to you, "One of them? Wait there's two?"

"Yep. Pair. Had to take them both. Part of the contract."

You blink. From what he'd told you last night, there;d only be the one. You'd prepared for one-it's not like you grabbed any more snacks to last one check up. You couldn't afford it.

Your hand goes to the bag, in the side pocket where a desperately thin paper envelope rests.

Double the work, double the pay.

Maybe it was a bit more worth it.

With that in mind you look around the station, "Where is it then?" You flip about to study the one you'd just seen to be sure you'd recognize the second while walking backwards to keep pace with him.

"What?" Jackie's step falters.

The eagerness slips into your tone a bit, "The other drone. You said there were two. I'm not getting paid to just work on the one when I can't even start on him today." You gesture back to the tracks, still searching the boarding area, "So tell me where he is so I can-"

"You can't."

The firmness of his statement catches you off guard to the point you stumble on the tiles and it takes a moment to gather your thoughts, "What do you mean I can't? I'm not going to just sit and do nothing for however long it takes-I literally cannot do that!" You flail a bit, desperate and frustrated and all too tired to deal with whatever nonsense he's pulling your leg with now, "Jack, please tell me you're not going to make me wake a week before-"

He quickly waves his hands to pacify you, "No no-just listen to me." He tugs his collar, "The other one is....not as easy to get to. One," He raises a finger to keep you from talking, "It's currently in the workshop for repairs. Something's been making it janky in the legs and we've been trying to fix it ever since last week. Two," A pause, the hand falters, "Its...a bit unfriendly to people nowadays."

You blink, "Unfriendly." He nods, "A drone, programmed by a company-who made the program themselves and knows how it works-is suddenly unfriendly." A pause before he nods again, "And it just developed on it's own?"

"Well, technically the program they have is designed to learn. Specifically for him, it was designed to be the trainer challenge-so having an advancing roster of strategies is kind of a big deal. I'll have to give you more info on it later though. I don't work on that line all too often, and it's not like a lot of people go out of their way for it either." His collar adjusts just a bit more, almost correct but the tie is horribly off center and it takes him a moment to notice one side of the collar is pinched beneath it.

Again you find yourself just nodding along, watching the depot agent fail to be a depot agent until you blink, "Wait, there's a pokemon challenge here?"

He sighs heavily, "Yes, it was something in the contract as far as I know. But that;s not important right now. I'll tell you about it later." He stresses the word to emphasize his point, tugging his tie loose completely, "Running theory is it picked up some nasty behavior from the less pleasant trainers out there since they also have been finding ways to knock it over or stuff garbage cans onto it's head. You know that kind of thing." Unfortunately, you did.

"Once he's out of repairs and back online I;ll see about showing you the drone and the new pokemon battle system we;ve got going on here. It's still in the fledgling stages so it's not too flashy." The tie is tossed over his head and looped into a loose knot while he readjusts his collar for the third time

"Out of the way, no special barriers, youre-on-your-own type thing?" When he nods with a 'yep' you huff, "Sounds like college."

"Kinda. Well, if you don;t count the lack of gravel to throw at each other mid battle." Then he snaps his fingers and points to you, tie paused mid pull, "You still have Alchemy, right?"

You blink, "Yes? Why?"

"No reason just uh," He gives the general crowd a cursory glance before he leans in with a low voice, "He still knows teleport right?"

You give him a look as you cross your arms, also leaning in-though you didn't lower your voice, "I never trained him above base level. don't need anything else. It's not like I'm a trainer."

"Good. You might need it."

"Wha-" You didn't get to finish as the bell rings overhead. You both listen to the alert for a scheduled train cracking through the PA system.

"And that's the 1PM train right there. Times up." Though he looks disappointed Jackie just sighs, pulling on his collar to finally fix his loose tie properly.

There was an argument on your tongue, mouth open and all. But the drone's roaring voice cut out your thoughts before you could. And though you were irritated, thoroughly done with it yelling down your ears, Jackie was right. On top of that you didn't feel like arguing today, "Alright, whatever I guess. I'll just pop in whenever you call me and check them out next time. Make sure you call me at a reasonable hour this time or I'll tie you next to that one for the rest of your shift." You poke his chest and nod towards the drone still screaming his lines.

Waving his hands he steps back, "Okay okay. Geez you're in a mood." He mumbles under his breath as he buttons his jacket back up into something more professional.

You turn away, waving him off over your shoulder. Just as you start marching up the stairs he calls your name and you pause two steps in.

"Just....do your best to not be too obvious." When you turn around his hands are in his pockets, hat now finally on his head, “Big Stantler's got the place locked up pretty tight. I can get you into the back areas but the service room is out of my reach right now. Still haven't gotten back on his good graces enough to get the keys."

You know exactly what he means, “I get it. You'll call me, I get to work in some closed office for a few hours, don't stick around after half an hour. Like all the other times I get called in to fix your messes.” The last bit is muttered under your breath as you face the stairs again.

If he had a comment about it he doesn't make it, “Yep. Anyways, I'll be going. I need to finish that paperwork before he gets here.”

Again you turn around, incredulous this time, "You didn't even finish your work?"

"Yeah yeah whatever. I'm going now." With an exaggerated wave of his cap he stamps it onto his head as he turns away, "Thank you for using Gear Station. Have a good day." Though a very disgruntled grimace makes him look like a particularly angry Quilfish he still manages to make his line sound incredibly friendly, something you could envy him for if it wasn;t for all the rest grinding your nerves.

So instead you roll your eyes as you shout at his back, “Yeah, you too.” Of course, it goes unanswered as the crowd closes around him. But before you leave you glance back at the drone.

Grey eyes focus unsettlingly into the middle distance even as it moves around. It's torso twists, arms pointing in opposing directions, one forwards, one down. Head on a swivel to gauge the crowd with its blank gaze, voice louder than the train's screeching brakes.

It was being creepy, he said. Wandering around, acting like a security guard.

The station was more busy than ever.

Maybe it was simply being overworked. Overheating would cause some kind of damage-maybe a gear warped and it was throwing off some code trying to bypass it. A screw loose in the wrong place, a bad batch of code. There was no telling exactly what was wrong until you got your hands on it directly.

It's a considerable distance away but when it's arms raise again- higher this time towards one of the many signs hanging from the roof- it jerks. A hitch causes it to rattle in place, arms outstretched and shaking like a leaf in a storm. It's eyes roll back, mouth open as it's voice glitches.

You watch Jackie approach with a hand over his ear before swatting the drone on the back with force. Another harsh jerk makes it's head snap backwards before it resumes it's lines as if nothing was wrong. Still incredibly loud, to Jackie's misery, as it screams full volume while he tries to get away.

A brow quirks. Probably just a misplaced wire causing some kind of feedback.

With a final look around you turn away from the drone. A cheap greasy burger had your name on it right now, as well as whatever tools you could scrounge up from the store. If it was anything like a computer, you'd know exactly where to start.

~~affiliated with @pixelcafe-network ~~divider from @k1ssyoursister

#the bite writes #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #ingo x reader x emmet #I am in physical pain #this took so long #I am also! never writing in fucking tumblr drafts! ever again!!!#end me I hated every second I was terrified of accidentally deleting it all #I am writing in google docs from now on

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