(no subject)

[alldeduction]

Who| Sherlock, John, Joan, Punchy, and OPEn
What| Sherlock decides to build a computer.
Where| In the Parking Garage
When| Endish of Week 2
Warnings/Notes| None yet, beyond the general warning of Sherlock being a complete tosser.

He'd been collecting pieces for days. Dissembling anything he came across that could possibly have electronic components in it, building a slowly growing pile of loot where Joan had been stashed while John built her a brace. Eventually, though, she was able to walk again, and Sherlock made the decision to make the final push.

Dragging his companions back to the parking garage with his trusty crowbar in tow and only a few broken ribs, he had all his components wrapped in various pieces of clothing stolen off the backs of glaring manikins. He would have to thank Timaeus for the crowbar later, but for now it was going to come in more useful than the man probably meant it to.

His aim was a vehicle, and he managed to find one that hadn't already been totaled by the other tributes.

"Stand back," He murmured to John and Joan as he angled into the window and cranked the door open before sliding inside. Checked the glove compartment, smirked a thanks to Punchy and drew out the key to hold it up.

"Well. Time to build a computer."

Comments

[youbarium]

Carlos raised an eyebrow. It took Punchy's wink to get it through to him, but he understood: Oh, because we're being constantly monitored, you can't talk about it. It made perfect sense.

It was also terribly inconvenient.

"Computers aren't my area of expertise, either. Most of my homemade devices are things like microphones and electroreceptors -- made to detect and record, not compute. But that looks fascinating." He leaned in to get a closer look at what Punchy was holding up. "It's clearly a sensor, but what exactly does it detect?"

[alldeduction]

"That we should hopefully be able to determine relatively easily," Sherlock said, the smile slipping to his lips entirely honest as he glanced back at Punchy, holding out his hand.

Hound, indeed.

"With Punchy's help, of course." He hadn't been lying when he had told the boy that he was the best with encryption that he knew, in this place.

And that was counting himself.

[nunpunching]

"Detects homies when they capped out." Punchy waves the sensor around, suddenly very serious. "If we were keen on slappin' up some alarm, this'd be the shit at the nucleoid, you follow?"

He drops it into Sherlock's hand, giving Sherlock the most flattered and smug look he can manage. "Ain't shit for reading, though. I ain't sure how tangled this thing here is. Still, gotta be something that jacks into our tracking chips."

[youbarium]

Carlos nods, standing back to watch for now. Sherlock and Punchy are the ones with the plans, and since Carlos doesn't know for sure what sort of hell they intend to stir up, he's going to wait to comment until he does.

Color him intrigued, though.

"Are the tracking chips left in our arms between Arenas, or do they remove and implant them every time?" he asked.

[alldeduction]

"Ah, yes, you're new," Sherlock murmured as he took the sensor and brought it down to his mountain of things.

"I suppose you could say they are implanted and removed every time, but the more accurate statement is that they are planted every time. The removal isn't necessary."

The desert arena had proved that.

"That doesn't mean they can't become incredibly helpful in the meantime..." He fiddles with it, turning it over as he considers the best way to connect it. "Punchy's correct, though, I doubt it stores any data for itself, but used correctly we should be able to map out where every tribute is in the arena..."

IMPORTANT TAG FOR YOUR WAIT

[nunpunching]

"Yeah, no data on this brain. I'mma lay money down on it just being basic response functions, homing, that kinda shit. Baby's gotta know where its hood's at." Punchy taps the remains of the robot with his foot, though, then holds out his arm. He smacks two fingers against the chip inside it. "This, though, this shit's storage. They got our chips all loaded up."

It took a lot of hacking and information browsing to uncover that information. The chip isn't just transmission.

"Got a zettabyte of information on it, I think."

[youbarium]

The removal isn't necessary?

Carlos wants to ask why, but he holds himself back. He is here as an observer, this is not his area of expertise, and being allowed here is a privilege and a sign of trust in their alliance. He's not going to break Punchy and Sherlock's concentration with questions that were obvious to them. Carlos could discover the answers for himself at a later date -- after all, a scientist was self-reliant.

He gazes down at his own arm, where they had implanted the tracking chip. "That's a lot of storage capacity for such a small device. I'm impressed." Then, he looks back at Punchy. "But what could they be storing on it? What would need that much space?"

[alldeduction]

Sherlock raised his eyebrows high, honestly surprised. To have that much data available to them-- An almost predatory grin spread over his features as he reached out to grab the robot.

"Perfect," He purred, before glancing up at Carlos. "I believe that is precisely what we are intending to uncover," He said smugly.

[nunpunching]

Punchy sees the question die in Carlos' face, and chooses to answer it, the bravado coming down for a moment of intent seriousness. Somberness. "Sometimes they leave the capped foo's in the Arena, even if they be getting revived."

He taps his arm again.

"Shit's so far beyond my time's caps I ain't even fussing guessing what's on it." A zettabyte? Punchy comes from a time when terrabytes were high-end deals. "No idea how to read it, though. Any of you kenning?"

[youbarium]

Carlos meets Punchy's eyes and frowns -- they leave the bodies in the Arena, but we are still revived? That raised some very real existential questions that Carlos didn't have time to consider now.

"Not while it's embedded in my arm," said Carlos. "I'd need to look at one directly, take it apart by hand, to find out how it worked." He wasn't a programmer; Carlos was a very hands-on scientist.

[alldeduction]

"They must have a way to access at least part of that information from your friend," Sherlock said, gesturing to the robot. "If we could figure out which sensor inside of it has access...."

[nunpunching]

"Nah, this don't read it. It's a receiver, not a a reader. Real simple, get the beep, respond to beep. Not even complicated as GPS. But one of the IMAX computers might hack it."

Punchy holds his forearm out, though. "Wanna cut mine out and check it?" He's so enthusiastic you'd think he was talking about popping down to the 7-Eleven and grabbing an energy drink instead of slicing an embedded chip out of his arm.

[youbarium]

It said something about how desensitized Carlos had become to blood, gore, and self-performed surgery that he didn't even bat an eyelash at Punchy offering to cut the transmitter out of his own arm.

"I don't think that's a good idea," said Carlos. "We're being watched by the Capitol, and I imagine the Capitol wants these tracking devices where they are. I don't think we could take one out, Punchy, not without serious repercussions."

[alldeduction]

Sherlock looked at Punchy's arm, seriously considering it. "Well, we could always put it back after we were done," He mused, though a slight flicker of a conspiratorial smile traced across his lips.

[nunpunching]

"Sounds like a plan. Don't sweat it, Carlos, Capitol ain't gonna do shit to us." Punchy starts rooting for a knife. "Lemme just-"

And that's when the fire alarm goes off. No idea how or why, but in the echoing confines of the garage the alarm is deafening. Punchy clap a hand over his ear and ducks to the ground as the acid rain starts to fall, shoving Carlos towards the door in a remarkable show of altruistic awareness given the circumstances and surprise.

"What the fuck?!"

[youbarium]

Oh no, Punchy's shove just added momentum to Carlos's sprint for the door. The moment he heard that alarm, Carlos knew it couldn't mean anything good. Even though it sounded like a fire alarm, Night Vale's standard spider-filled sprinkler systems were what he was used to, and like hell was he going to stick around.

He got to the door, to outside of the area of effect, then turned around and yelled: "Punchy! Get under something! Hurry!"

[alldeduction]

Sherlock had already been standing next to the car's open door when the alarm went off. It was pure instinct that had him throw himself inside and slam the door behind him before the rain began. It was only once he snapped his head back and realised that he'd locked Punchy out that his chest lurched. He slammed his fist on the glass.

"PUNCHY! RUN!"

[nunpunching]

Punchy's already out - as soon as he realized Sherlock and Carlos weren't about to die, he went about the task of saving himself. Unfortunately, the only option is the elevator.

It really isn't safe to use an elevator when the fire alarm is going off, he thinks, and yet there he is. He gives Sherlock a wave, can't see where Carlos went but knows he's outside the danger zone, and manages to only collect minimal burns before the elevator doors close like a giant metal eyelid.

He'll have to find them later.