Closed RP Danger Strangers

This RP is currently closed.

illirica

Breaker of Forums
Staff member
Mina's mom usually gave pretty good advice. Things like "don't flee the scene of an accident" and "go to the hospital if you have a head injury" and "don't get into a car with strangers." Most of the time, Mina followed her mom's advice, because that was the sort of person she was. She followed advice! Especially if it was good advice and especially if it was her mom, because she worried. And she wanted what was best for Mina. And it usually made sense!

So, anyway, Mina had just gotten into a car with strangers with a head injury while fleeing the scene of an accident.

It hadn't been her fault! Like, legally, even, not just "mom, it wasn't my fault!" But she'd been in a crosswalk and she'd had the walk light and what was that guy even doing? Maybe he could explain it to her mom because, like, wow did Mina not want to do that. She also didn't want to explain why she wasn't in the hospital, and why she was in the car with strangers.

One of them was named Spork. It was still funny. The driver was... presumably not named Spork? Were they another utensil? Was Mina allowed to ask? Actually, Mina was not sure she was supposed to be here at all. Spork had seemed to think it was a good idea, but Mina wasn't sure about the driver. Was she allowed to ask that? Like "Hello random stranger, is it okay that I just got in your car, also, do you happen to go by Tongs?"

That probably wouldn't go over well. It also probably wouldn't go over well that Mina was seventeen. Were they kidnapping her? Like, not on purpose, but did this count as a kidnapping whether she wanted it to or not? Actually, were they kidnapping her? Wasn't that one of the reasons you weren't supposed to get in the car with strangers? Should she say something like "And by the way I had leukemia as a child so, like, I don't think anyone would really want my kidneys."

Did they want her kidneys? Also there was that whole thing that her blood gremlins ate people, but maybe if they were after her kidneys they sort of deserved it? Or, like, they would have if she'd had good kidneys, but it would kind of suck to have that happen and the kidneys weren't even in sellable condition. Except, did they actually check that on the black market? Did someone sit next to a bathtub full of ice with a clipboard and just say "can you tell me if you've had any of the following conditions..." before they got out the scalpel?

Mina didn't know. Mina had no idea about any of this. Mina put her seat belt on because gosh darn it, she was going to listen to one piece of advice from her mom today.

"Hey, Spork? If you're going to steal someone's kidneys, do you ask their medical history first?"

Spork seemed like they would know.

"Also, um, hi. Sorry. About. Everything? Especially me. I'm Mina. You're... you're probably not 'Tongs,' are you?"

But it would be funny.
 
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Spork is lounging in the back seat of a car. This is not an unusual activity for them, and although these particular circumstances are a little out of their normal wheelhouse, they’re rolling with it.

They’re in the backseat because the car didn’t so much stop as it did slowly roll, and then they tore the door open and hopped in. And then scooted graciously over to the far seat, like a gentleman, so that the kid could hop in too. They hope the blood washes out of the seats alright - actually, knowing Mari, she probably thought of that weeks ago and did her whole spreadsheet thing to pick just the right model with blood-proof seats. The nerd.

Said nerd might still be a little uppity about the whole ‘last minute ride’ thing. They make a note to rag on her later, tacking it to a mental bulletin board beside some choice comments on being less obvious about tracking their every movement. They’ll bring up the alligator fiasco if they have to, but only as an emergency measure.

They’re zoning out again. Cars tend to do that to them. Hell, most things that don’t grab their attention just aren’t worth noticing, 90% of the time. But the kid asks a question, and they take a moment to mull it over.

“Hm, iunno kid. Depends what I’m stealing them for, I guess. Typically there isn’t a lot of time for talking with those sorts of things. Paperwork is a special kind of torture, though, I might keep that one in mind.” They tactfully choose not to elaborate on what, exactly, ‘those sorts of things’ are. Mari never got them into anything too heinous, but they’ll let the kid think whatever she wants.

Their legs are a little cramped back here. They readjust, kicking a foot up onto the center console in the front and letting their opposite knee rest against the door. They snort a laugh at the kid’s follow-up, angling their face towards the front seat as though trying to smell Mari’s reaction. “Ha! Can we keep her, Tongs?”

 

A deep, beleaguered sigh came from the front seat, the dark eyes staring daggers at Spork in the rearview mirror. It didn't matter if they couldn't see them, she knew they could feel the look. Mari had been elbow-deep in a new project, working on an attachment for her laser pistol that could spread the beam, sort of like a shotgun. So far all she'd succeeded in doing was destroying three prototypes, but it was a start. She was about to presumably destroy Prototype Number Four when she'd received the memo from Spork. Her phone was instantly in her hand, tapping on the icon simply labeled Silverware Drawer. In less than 5 seconds she was scrolling through Spork-related information, diagnostics on their implants, and diagnostics on them.

They weren't too far, but the memo had been urgent, they'd been out of breath. None of their implants were failing, and they had asked for a hospital, not backup. Their heart rate was elevated, but unfortunately she hadn't been able to keep track of much more than that. At least she'd been able to give Spork a tracker that they couldn't throw into an alligator enclosure. At least, as easily. Mari was still afraid of the lengths a dedicated Spork could go to.

There were too many variables, so Mari made a choice. She'd go grab them. Finding a driver who'd keep their mouth shut was too difficult on a short notice, and without knowing what they needed a doctor for, she could accidentally send them to the wrong one. So she'd dropped what she was doing, metaphorically, and scrambled over to them. Turns out that 'them' in this case did not refer to a blind demigirl with an attitude most would find abrasive. No, instead it referred to the holder of said attitude as well as a child covered in blood. Lucky for Spork, Mari had done her research into the ease of cleaning the upholstery, since a bloodstained car would raise several questions that she didn't want Spork to come up with answers to.

Not only was the child bleeding, but she apparently wasn't making any sense. Could be possible brain damage, but Mari couldn't be entirely sure.

"Correct, I'm not Tongs." Mari said, her tone exasperated despite the literal years of putting up with similar antics from Spork. "My name's Mari. You already know Spork. Why are you covered with blood? Why couldn't you just let an ambulance take her?" This last question was directed at Spork, Mari's tone carrying along with it an unspoken 'I was in the middle of something'.
 
Not 'Tongs.' Just 'Mari.' Mari wasn't nearly as fun of a name as Tongs. Or Spork. Spork was a great name.

Mari had great questions. Excellent questions. Pointed questions. Pointed like a - well, not like a Spork, actually, because they weren't that pointy, and that was kind of the whole point, was not being too pointy, because if they were too pointy they would just be a fork and then-

Mina was sure there had been a point there, but she'd chased it for a while and it had still gotten away. Bummer. Spork had at least explained the kidneys situation. Although, now Mina just had more questions.

"Wait, you can steal kidneys for more than one reason? I thought it was just for transplant. I mean, I guess you could cook them up in a pie or something, but like - what are the other reasons? Sorry. Sorry. I've just never stolen anyone's kidneys before. Not that I'm planning to start! I mean, I don't even know what I'd do with them, which is why I'm asking - I mean, not why I'm asking, no! Not like that, I don't want to, um. Sorry. I'm sure your kidneys are very nice?"

This seemed lacking, somehow. Mina turned her attention to Mari, hoping that would help. It did not help.

"Oh, no. You sound like my mom. That probably means you're right."
 

It takes a few tries to get their elbow propped at the right level on the door, but Spork manages. Their fingers drum against the door in quick taps, transitioning into the beat of Barracuda when they accidentally hit on it. “Thanks, but I’m not selling.”

Mina has a lot of questions. They try to remember if they asked that many questions when they were a teenager, but no, probably not. They were more the ‘fuck around and find out’ type. Practical experience and all that.

To their own credit, they also weren’t that curious about black-market organ dealing. They shrug a little, pointedly ignoring Mari’s glare. That is, until she starts asking questions of her own.

“The kid didn’t wanna go.” Their shoulders go tense, their head tilting a little to the side and jaw clenching in familiar tells. They aren’t budging on this. There’s a challenge beneath their placid response, simmering rebellion that conveys a willingness to do this with or without her help. “Her blood’s dangerous - thought you’d know who to call about that, Mom-ri.”

“She isn’t right. I am.” That’s a thought though, one that had slipped their mind somewhere between the screaming and the running and the alleyways. Spork tilts their ear towards Mina, leaning in slightly to ask, “What exactly does it do?”

 

At this rate, Mari almost wished that she’d sent some poor EMT to a fate worse than death instead of doing it herself. The child babbled and bled in the back seat, going on a tangent about black market organ dealing that probably would have at least worried most others in her position. Mari was not most others. She had grown up with Spork. This was the most normal part of the conversation.

Whenever she managed to take her eyes off the road, Mari flicked them up to the rearview mirror, scanning Spork for injury. Just because they didn’t outright tell her doesn’t mean they’re not hurt. Luckily, she can’t see any immediate injuries, certainly none of this supposedly dangerous blood.

“Do you really think I just so happen to have a metahematologist on call?” Mari fired back, a bit harsher than she meant to. Spork was digging in, and Mari wanted to cut off any argument before it started. Too many late nights tinkering with her projects had left her sleep-deprived and snappy. She’d apologize, but the moment slips by with the traffic outside. Besides, it’s Spork. They’re the epitome of thick-skinned.

“Luckily I have some older medical equipment from some of my previous ideas.” Her tone had become clinical, eyes staring at the road ahead. Said previous ideas had involved a lot of needles for Spork, but she had been on the cusp of something great. In the end a spinal implant was the more practical decision anyhow. “Is your blood dangerous to you, or just to others?”
 
Mina looked at Spork, then at Mari, then back at Spork, then back at Mari. She was listening to the conversation, and the wheels were turning.

"Are you two siblings?" Because they definitely acted like they were siblings. Not that Mina had any siblings, but she knew other people who had siblings and had definitely read stories in which people had siblings and these two acted like siblings. Or like they were dating, maybe, but Mina didn't make judgment calls on whether or not people were dating. Just if they were relatives. Apparently.

Man. Spork would be an awesome sibling. Just the right sort of older sibling that can get you into trouble but also sorta get you out of it when you needed it. And Mari... well, Mina didn't know enough about Mari just yet, but apparently she was the sensible one, and that was generally a good thing, except Mina had quite enough sensible in her life already.

The questions turned back to her, somehow, while Mina was busy muttering the word metahematologist to herself and trying to remember it, because it sounded like a very smart awesome word that she was absolutely going to screw up if she tried to use it in a sentence.

What did her blood do?

"Oh." Her tone was a bit dejected, but only for the one syllable. "It eats people." She'd told Spork it was dangerous, and it had eaten the guy, but well... Spork couldn't see what had happened, and it had probably just been a lot of screaming to them. Mina felt like maybe Spork was the sort of person who was often around a lot of screaming, so even that probably hadn't been very definitive.

"Er, not just people. Living things, as far as I can tell. Definitely ants. I haven't really, um, tried anything outside of bugs. Because most of them are cute and fluffy. I thought maybe if I could get a lab rat, but it turns out you can't just walk into places and say 'hey can I get a lab rat' or they look at you funny. It also kills mosquitoes, but this does not stop them from biting me, which is stupid and they are stupid and they deserve death but ideally before they bite me. Jerks. And um, it doesn't eat me. I seem to be immune to it."
 

Mari snaps at them, but Mari always gets pissy when Spork draws her away from her projects. As the bigger person, Spork just smiles at her, smugness in their every syllable. “You’re the one who knows what a metahematologist is.”

Spork ignores the siblings question, both because they have better things to think about and they don’t want to give the real answer - ‘it’s complicated’. They basically grew up together, but anyone with eyes could see they don’t look a thing alike. Because of that, it’s rare for someone to actually ask outright, but they’ll let it slide because they’re cool like that.

Cool enough to turn their head very slowly towards Mina. Cool enough to lower their glasses with a finger so she can very clearly see their raised eyebrow. “Eats people.”

They push their glasses back up and grin. “Metal.”

“Have you tried using money? Oh, wait, you’re like twelve. Right. I’ll buy you a rat using my real adult money if you want, or a houseplant or something. Do plants get eaten too, or is your blood a carnivore?” These are the important questions.

They’re 10,000% sure Mari will have more questions, but that’s her problem. Spork isn’t one to look a gift blood-curse in the mouth. Mostly because they can’t look anything in the mouth. They’re just along for the ride.

 

Mari sticks out her tongue at Spork, regardless of the fact that they can’t see it. Then she remembers that she’s supposed to be the adult in this situation. They certainly aren’t.


“Eats living things, hm?” Mari can’t help the interest in her voice as the gears in her mind begin whirring. “Most likely organic material, next step is to figure out if said organic material needs to be living or not.” She’s not really talking to Mina or Spork, mainly half-muttering herself while trying to ensure they don’t die. The way back to their apartment is a familiar one, and she navigates it with ease.

15 minutes later, they arrive at their apartment, a decent place that Mari has been sure to inspect every inch of. She leaves the door open as she steps through, expecting Mina and Spork to follow. The smell of burnt plastic and hot metal trickles through the air as Mari moves deeper within until they reach her workshop.

It’s not as much as she’d like, but for now it’ll do. There’s a couple workbenches littered with half-finished prototypes and blueprints, notes scrawled on paper or on the desk itself, various electrical components and more. There’s a training dummy back against a wall, and a standing closet no doubt hides even more technological wonders. Or maybe just basic supplies.

The reason for the smell is evident, a pile of debris on the floor accompanied by some scorch marks on the wall opposite. Mari brushes a few bits of her failed prototype off a bench and scoot it out a little.


“Sit here, talk to Spork, and roll up your sleeve.” She orders Mina, her tone lukewarm at best. Not that she’s trying to be cold, she just wants to figure out what’s going on with this child’s blood. She goes to an unused drawer and rummages around, pulling out a few things before returning to Mina, waiting until her attention is away before jabbing a needle into her unsuspecting arm, pulling back on the plunger.

“Have you ever been sick before, Mina?” Mari asked as though she hadn’t just stabbed a child’s vein without warning. She had a hypothesis and she wanted as much information as possible before going further with testing.
 

"I'm seventeen," Mina objected to Spork's classification of her age. She was not twelve. She didn't even look twelve. Except people at work told her she looked twelve sometimes, which made it, like super gross when the weirdos tried to make a pass at her because, like, she wanted to believe that it was because they thought she was eighteen and totally mature for her age, but she was worried that it was because they thought she looked twelve and that was so super gross, god. Blech. "And I have tried using money, but there's a whole difference between pet rats and lab rats. And it doesn't seem right to buy a rat that's supposed to be a pet rat and then take it home and feed it to my blood gremlins. Except - oh, wait! They have, like, feeder mice, right? For pet snakes? I think? I don't have a pet snake. Do you have a pet snake? I mean, not that I'm judging, but you definitely seem like the sort of person who would have a pet snake. Wait, that's what judging is. Okay, so I'm judging? Um, sorry. About judging you for your pet proclivities. Which do not reflect on you as a person. Can we get out of this conversation? Oh, we're here, hallelujah, that was awkward."

Using getting out of the car as an excuse to end that conversation? Winning! At least, winning in Mina's book, which was close enough. She followed them into the apartment, which looked disappointingly like an apartment and not like an evil lair of doom out of a storybook, and Mina wasn't actually sure why she was disappointed by that. It smelled kinda funky, though, when they got in. Not "crazy cat lady" funky or "unwashed gym locker" funky - she had so much experience with that last one. Weird. Like the shop hall in school that Mina cut through on Thursdays because even though it was longer around to get to English from Math, it was actually faster because no one went that way.

Apparently it smelled that way because there was a whole, like, workshop in there. Which was neat! Except, like, how did people afford an apartment with space for a workshop? She wanted to ask, but you Did Not Ask People About Their Financial Situation, apparently. So, she didn't.

Mina had been through this particular set of instructions often enough that she sat down obediently, rolled up her sleeve, and clenched her hand into a fist, palm up. The question of why she was doing this did not actually occur to her until after Mari stuck the needle in, at which point Mina figured it was too late.

"Aren't you supposed to like, ask first? Or is that in the same vein as the 'don't ask people about their kidneys' conversation? Hehe, 'vein' - forget I said that. Please. I would like to but I know I will not. Also, if you're trying to get them out, they don't go through a needle. I have blood tests all the time. I had leukemia. As a kid. And I don't want to talk about it because they made me get therapy already and ugh it is so tedious. Anyway: Scrapes or cuts, yes, needles, no. Please don't stab me, I don't want to be stabbed." The last was an afterthought that definitely should have been a forethought. Whoops.

"Oh! And I forgot from earlier because I was on a weird tangent, but no, they don't eat plants. They also don't eat fungi! Which are not the same as plants! Insects yes. Dead things, no. I tried a dead bird once that I found in the yard after it hit the window and it was all like, nope, no thanks. Why am I telling you this?"

Maybe it was because it was the first time she'd had a chance.
 
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