Forty-Third Theory [Mostly Action]

[i_speak_softly]

((General post for the next two weeks or so. Preemptive tl;dr, find him anywhere, though suggestion of day/place/activity is appreciated.))

[As May begins, and as a fairly large percentage of May goes by, Donatello can be found doing the following things:

-Jogging through the woods, tracking down any signs of life detected by the departed Mr. Scott's not-really-new-and-not-exactly-improved-either tricorder. ((New Feathers, feel free to jump in here.))

-Hauling huge loads of books to and from the library.

-Studying these books - in and around House 55, at the library itself, by the fountain, at the coffee shop, alongside the river... pretty much anywhere.

-Copying diagrams from the books into his journal.

-Working at the smithy, trying to create physical equivalents of these diagrams.

-Digging through bins at the item shop.

-Practicing wind magic or good old-fashioned ninjutsu in various open areas around the edges of the village.

And a few more specific actions:]


[Don needs a few minutes of your time. If you don't dare to approach him while he's working, he'll come looking for you.]



[Some rainy evening, Don will show up at Robert's door with a duffel bag and a goofy grin. You owe him a nanocomputer demonstration - and he brought you a gift.]



Frederic, a question, if you have a minute...

Comments

[i_speak_softly]

< What were they thinking... ? >

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

I'm hoping it's from the alternate future where that makes sense.

[i_speak_softly]

[What future is that?]

[Don shakes his head and goes back to taking the Playstation apart.]

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

[Mike starts letting Klunk play with his bandanna tails.]

How long is this gonna take?

[i_speak_softly]

[He pulls out the guts of the console and peers at them closely.]

I wouldn't count on playing tonight.

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

Aw, man! [Mike flops over backwards, spread eagle on the floor, and heave a great sigh.] This place is so laaaame.

[i_speak_softly]

[Yes, Mikey, whining always makes his work go faster.]

[He flips the screwdriver around, using it to point at Mike's room.]

Go. Ransack. Your room is such a dump, it will probably keep you busy for hours.

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

I'm not gonna clean my room for fun!

[What're you, nuts?]

[i_speak_softly]

[But "ransack" is like the opposite of "clean".]

[Don shrugs and starts fiddling around with the processor in a way that is pretty obviously not accomplishing anything.]

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

[He didn't recognize the word, and went by context clues. Just be glad some of your reading advice stuck with him.]

Whatcha doin' now?

[Is there a big red button he can push?]

[i_speak_softly]

I'm looking at the read drive.

[There is, but it's on the controller, which clearly isn't connected to anything.]

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

Nnnn. I need my fix, man.

[Mike picks up one of those controllers, actually, and starts button mashing, staring off into space like if he imagines hard enough it'll help the craving.]

[i_speak_softly]

[... That's really worrying, Mikey.]

Mike. Bring me the turtle wax and I'll give you something to help with the withdrawal.

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

...huh?

[He's taking over your Delayed Reaction gig, man.]

[i_speak_softly]

[Smaller words, then.]

I have a game on my computer. I'll trade it to you for the turtle wax.

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

Really!?

[Mike jumps up and bounds away without another word.]

[i_speak_softly]

[When Mike returns, Don's computer will be beside him on the floor, one keystroke away from loading the game. Whether or not the requisite keystroke is entered depends on whether Mike was successful in his mission.]

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

[It's going to be a while before that happens, Donnie-boy. You'll be able to hear sounds of mayhem and stuff getting tossed around for quite a few minutes before Mike emerges.]

All I could find is this stuff. [He tosses you a tin of Vitashell and sits down.] Are you sure Raph keeps turtle wax in his room?

[i_speak_softly]

[He catches the tin and reads the label.] That's it. [And it vanishes into his belt.]

Your reward, brave adventurer. [He strikes a key on the laptop, and a mostly-familiar text interface loads up. It looks like the old Infocom games, but the words are new.]

1/?

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

2/?

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

3/?

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

4/?

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

5/done!

[the-mikester.livejournal.com]

That's not turtle wax!

[i_speak_softly]

It doesn't matter what it is; you never saw it. [And he resumes his work in a way that clearly implies "One more word and your Frankenconsole is scrap."]