A Doll's House (PoW: Angelina Tarrant x Madeleine Citronelle)

[Malkavia]

Code: Select all

 man THREAD_LOADER 

The command brought up the manual for the portion of the robot controller's interface responsible for managing the thread in the needle. On the black background of the terminal, the directions were an endless, dense white canvas of text, trailing on and on down the bottom of the page...

It's fuckin' cool!

Madeleine shook her head, smiling despite herself. Yeah. "Cool" was one way to put it. As Angelina kept talking, though, she started to nod.

"Mmhm, you're exactly right about the challenges. Ten...Even five years ago, most people would have said an animatronic like this was an impossibility. Too many little ways things could go wrong, too many ways a user might end up hurt."

"I'm not an engineer, of course. Although the ideas were mine, the...technical implementation would be hard for me to describe. The brilliant minds who assembled Bennington here could tell you a lot more."

With all the noise and...destruction, Madeleine had actually started to feel annoyed at the tune ringing out of Bennington. As if she hadn't been the one to choose the soundtrack! Her fingers traced his smooth, plastic shell as she peered up at his glowing, smiling face. Her eyes reflected his luminous white smile.

"But you're correct. He has essentially two embedded systems. The first is the kind of software you might find in the machines that manufacture stuffies at scale inside huge factories. Think of a big database full of directions for making stuffies under hardwired, very specific circumstances. The second system, however, is his brain. An adaptive program at the absolute...bleeding edge. The best."

"Its only job is to ensure dynamically, on demand, at all times, that the toy it is currently operating on is situated for one of the sewing systems to handle correctly. If there is an even slight deviation, this brain pauses the run, corrects the difficulty, and restarts sewing."

Papers had been written about Bennington in journals—papers that received attention and citation. Papers with influence...How had Madeleine ever felt anything like irritation towards Bennington?

He was special.

"There are imagineers at Disney who would give their left..." She was tempted to say testicle. "kidney for a look at this boy's brains. I'm surprised you know so much, though. You are...interested in robotics?"

Ah, here's something. Madeleine squinted at the screen. Colors...colors and thread source. The language in this section was technical and low-level. She only understood maybe every fourth term. There were a lot of references to code, which she could not understand at all.

I only want to change the silly color... She bit her lip and huffed.

[Monsy]

Her head went loose as she watched. For the whole explanation, she didn’t blink at all. Just stared into the vast space of Madeleine’s hair and silhouette. The long blonde hair was like gold. Her bangs were folded over flaps of silk. The main length going down her small back like a river. She followed it, glanced at her ass too, then back around and up, slowly, from her legs to her hand flicking and scrolling away on the terminal. The polish on those clear and natural fingernails. The wrist. Then the arms, shoulders, mouth. Small lips. Pinkish. And then her eyes. Red, enchanting. Vampiric. She smiled and hummed.

What she would give to hear those technical minds give her the detailed rundown. It reminded her of going to Robot Expos and university labs as she was nearing graduation at fifteen. How she got to show off to them, even if her gadget was DIY, with scrap metals from shop class for a frame, old computer chipsets, a toaster, disk drives, speakers and a battery from her brother’s friend’s car.

What did it end up being? … A two foot little wiry remote-control skeleton on triangle tracks that shot heated CDs from its toaster chest. It had a smiley face. A sheet metal mould over the bluetooth speaker interior so it could play Syd Matters off her iPod while shooting raccoons and birds with flaming mixtapes.

Lets say… sunshine for everyone… POW!

"—You are...interested in robotics?"

"You can say that." She started, paused. Then had a happy second hum.

“Ya must be so unbelievably connected to get hands on this ovah Disney, though. Talk about Queen of the Northern Hemisphere.” That’s my Madsy, is what she wanted to say, but swallowed it. She pushed off the counter, hands behind her back and then leaned in a little closer to read. It looked to be C++ code stylized in a C- doc.

She guessed that it must’ve been some sort of colour detection system they were looking at. What spool is loaded in its fingers and the sowing seed.

“Have ya tried lookin’ in the thread inventory?” Angelina bit her lip. “If it has one, like, it has to know which colours it got, right? And which one it needs. If ya could find the bit that's tellin’ that, then—maybe ya can switch it?”

Her heel started to tap on the ground subconsciously.

“Or… maybe I could?”

[Malkavia]

Out in the old Jouets D'Ors main plaza, Shimmerlace kicked a bit of stuffing off the ground, pursing her lips and warbling a little tune.

Whistle while you work— Tra Lalala la la laaaa~ Madeleine would have snipped if she were present. You know how much I despise that song, Charrrrrrrr. Alas, ye olde Disney feud.

—And down came the cotton into Shimmerlace's outstretched hand. The night's activities gave new meaning to the old fairy tale. While the princess slept, the elves performed janitorial service.

Shimmerlace trotted once more up and down the hall where the Marauder had left her trail of destruction. Not a single thing out of place (discounting the now vacant snake's throne). And just in time. Bennington's song went FWOOooooom, as someone somewhere shut him down.

"Aight, cottonmouth! Time to make triple speed to the show, yeah?" said Shim to the face of stuffing she had made from the scraps, before stuffing him into one of her costume's multifarious pockets. She made a bee-line for Bennington Beaver's Bungalow, hands behind her back, coat tails slapping behind her.

She could tell immediately something was wrong.

"Wellllll, actually, Disney does all of its work in-house, so we weren't in direct competition. But. Yes. I was very fortunate to have some important friends over at Hashimoto Dynamics."

The room was in disarray. Stuffed animals all over the damn floor. Snake-boy himself on the operating table with a gut full of cotton. But Madeleine was...smiling. Shimmerlace frowned. She bent at her knees, picked up the nearest downed eagle, replaced him on the shelf. Neither Angelina nor Madeleine seemed to even notice her entrance.

"Though it wasn't just connections. I had the...dream, you see. The vision of what could be." Shove your wand deep and fuckin' gag me. Shimmerlace worked hard to keep from rolling her eyes as she stepped further in. Picked up, then shelved more critters. Waited for a greeting that never came. They had to have noticed her by now... "Hashimoto provided the technical know-how, but the initial proposal, the design of the room and layout, the concept..."

Ugggggggggh. And she just kept going, until Angelina over here got up to the big TV screen in Benny's belly and asked for the keys to the kingdom.

"Oh! Do you think you could figure it out, sweet pea? As I said, I'm more in the line of ideas when it comes to technical work. I'm trying to load it with green thread, to match Sylvester. Here...take a look—"

Sudden, apocalyptic visions erupted before Shimmerlace's eyes. Bennington come to life, a bloody hatchet in one paw! Flamethrowers erupting from his eyes! Tearing every man, woman, and stuffy in the vicinity into red pulp as it gave its feral roar! The Feychild squeaked as she stared, bug-eyed at Madeleine stepping aside.

She can't be that stupid.

She can't be.

She had been going to say something...to shout something, in fact. But her teeth clacked together. She took a loooooong step away from Señor Bennington. And waited. And watched.

Maybe if she is, then she deserves the fuckin' wakeup call she's about to get...

[Monsy]

We weren’t in direct competition.

Well. They were now in her head. After years of competing amusement parks and buying movie rights for shit that will never be produced, but instead buried under the monolithic machine that is showbiz and entertainment politics. They’d culminate in a We are LAW match of course, no holds barred. Loser Leaves Japan.

Mickey Mouse vs Madeleine Citronelle.
Disney Inc vs Jouets D'Ors
Tokyo Dome
We are LAW 7

Of course, Madeleine has the upper hand with limbs thicker than a beer belly and stronger than the smell of molasses.
But she couldn't submit Mickey Mouse with her golden pillory submission, as Mickey was too bendy to have his joints ache. His slaps knocked her stuffing out with his big mitts, which made Madeleine’s kicks far less useful as they are easily blocked. That is: until she’d step on his toes. He’d jump around, howl like a dog like “HOEW! HOEW! HEOW!”, then Madeleine would snipe him in the head with an axe kick. He’d go down. Spread-eagle, folded with his ass in the air! One… Two..

Oh wait!

Donald Duck sliding in to save Mickey’s desPICKable bacon. Duck Driver! No! Bennington Beaver has swooped in to tackle the Duckster! Rumble! Tumble! The dust storm of cartoony action splitting into two separate battles. Black feathers and beaver tales go flying! Blonde hair and mouse whiskers! But when it clears, it would be Mickey and Madeleine that would get up first. Bennington had been sowed into a knot with his own threads. Donald re-enters the ring. Now, it was two versus one…

The beatdown commences. The horror of the Madeleine squeal, who was being ping-ponged between them with gun-shot-sounding slaps… But all isn’t lost.

For HE couldn’t stand by and just watch this. He wasn't about to let this all come down to the might of numbers. Not by Disney. Nothing...
All he needed was a bite of his spinach. Then he raced out to the sound of the

! Chair in hand! It’s Popeye from Paramount Global! Coming from behind and evening the odds by taking out the Donald! And at long last, with a helpless and tired Mickey, swiftly defeated after three more kicks. His nose was squashed into his face from a dominant trample. The defeated Mickey Mouse licked Madeleine’s sweaty toes, which were oilier than a bucket of fried chicken and making her toe clippings worth billions.

Sweet Victorious Madeleine

COUGH.

Angelina covered her sleeve right before.
She nodded along pretty closely to what she was told. A little tingle between her shoulder blades told her a snake was nearby, but she didn’t pay her any mind. Hashimoto Dynamics was more important.

"Hashimoto provided the technical know-how, but the initial proposal, the design of the room and layout, the concept..."

“That’s so fuckin’ awesome…” She interjected from time to time to fill in her thoughts. Then it was time to flex her fingers. All the pressure now! Just how she liked it. And there was not a drop of sweat in this rat kitten’s palms as she fished through the doc. It took roughly a minute of deep staring and total silence. Then she found her thing.

THREAD_INVENTORY

“I think I got it…” Now just to put in some manual input… Mm…
“Actually.” Angelina turned head to Madeleine. “What if I do ya one bettah?”
She waited for half a second before continuing.

“This thing still has a routine, right? Like the bots in factories, but with an adaptive brain. So. That means it should still have a production script. Several, actually.”

Angelina started to quickly sift through things on the terminal to find the control system. A few bits from here and…

test_mode = True

Loading production script…

“We could run the right script on ol’... uh… Sylvestah… Ovah here, as a mostly completed product. If ya trust Benny and my brain here, it may just pick it up and ‘fix it’ by completin’ a green snake it thinks its been makin’. I just gotta set some things up and…”

It took a few more minutes of just setting it all up manually. What threads to use, the size of the snake and marking prior steps as already done. So only the portions they wanted to run would execute in its routine. It had a body. Now. Had the eyes. Had the details. It just needed to be stuffed and sewed together.

Angelina was ready to fire it off. She just needed one thing…

“Wanna screw the fingah back on? Then… Press the entah button.” Her grin was wide and conniving. Full teeth showing. Both this bot blowing up and working were acceptable outcomes. She just wanted to see her plan to the end. Like a mad fuckin’ scientist.

[Malkavia]

Before Madeleine knew what was happening, Angelina had taken control of the termiminal. The white text of the documentation disappeared, to be replaced with the greens, reds, and yellows of the actual codebase. Despite the clumsy touchscreen keyboard, Angelina navigated the software as easily as a cat navigating a tunnel. At one point, the terminal split down the middle, with separate windows for different files, and Angelina slipped through and edited the garbled lines of arcane script as if she were dictating thought.

Then it was back to the terminal. A quick command. And Bennington responded. The needle vanished — FWIP — into his arm. There was a soft mechanical whirr (that would normally hide under jazzy fanfare), and then the needle popped back into its slot, threaded with exactly the right shade of green.

“Wanna screw the fingah back on?"

Uhm.

Madeleine blinked. Her mouth opened half an inch...then slowly closed as she bit her tongue.

The truth was, she had no clue what Angelina had just done. The line currently on the terminal was clearly some kind of command to compile and run a test script, but she didn't recognize the file being targeted or any of the input flags. She had learned just enough of the software to operate in the terminal, to run displays for visiting kids on field trips, to present Bennington's capabilities to investors. But...

Her finger traced the edge of Sylvester's torn gut. The new stuffing made his back bulge slightly at the wound. His mouth hung open, tongue lolling like a dead bit of muscle, fat and numb and...She clenched her fist. Maybe Angelina didn't deserve a chance at redemption, anyway.

But what if it worked?

What if her kitten could do that?

Wouldn't she want to see?

Madeleine stole a sidelong glance at her latest red-haired prize. Her beautiful violet eyes with slits like a cat's, grinning her gleaming cheshire smile, with a wicked glint in her eyes. A bit like Charlotte, that look. No. No, this was not safe.

Madeleine sniffed, quirked a smile, and picked up the metal cap to Bennington's finger. She sheathed the sewing needle, spun the fingertip until it clicked, and then — as Charlotte moaned — executed Angelina's command.

[Monsy]

The moment after Madeleine pressed that button, Bennington was a fairly still creature, but clearly doing something. You can see his eyes begin to blink. The drone-like whirr of mechanical parts inside shifting. His head turned to look at them. His jaw flapped open and shut. All that fanfare that usually came with this routine. The needle out his finger, ready to sow. But then the limb started moving around in motions that were his animated greetings and gestures for questions.

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO MAKE, FIVEHEAD?
A SNAKE…? A GREEN SNAKE? WHAT ABOUT THE PINK OGRE BEHIND YOU?
NO? WELL… OKAY!

Is what she imagined. Bennington outstretched his sewing needle finger at them. About three inches from their faces as they stood particularly close. The arm is not even fully extended, fully in reach. Its black eyes did another blink. The mechanical parts clicked stiff. She reckoned the brain might be melting... Or, bugging out. Perhaps she didn’t comment out everything she needed in the code. Or her adjustments fucked up its callibration and path finding.

She had a smile that internally screamed fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
But in the happiest way possible. Her fists raised, elbows in, like a half-hearted boxing stance as her eyes widened at the machine, waiting for steam or to get a needle through one of their cheeks.

Pick me, DAMMIT! Sow me!

Miraculously, Bennington suddenly shifted. Its limbs pulled back and looked at the snake. She reached into the river and fixed the last curl in its tail so it was nice and straight. Her finger almost ate a mechanical sewing needle and she yoinked it back, having a short giggle about it. Then she stepped back behind Madeleine, grabbed both her shoulders, placed her head on her collar and watched the thing work.

It filled it with stuffing through its finger after a quiet hum of an internal motor. Then the thunk-thunk-thunk of a sower going down its belly and right to the end. That was the end of the script. Not even thirty seconds. It stopped but didn’t reset. Angelina was right there, first to grab it and pull its head from underneath Bennington’s big hands. She used one hand on the head then the rest on the body’s second third, wrapping it around herself so the tail was around her waist, up her front, under her arm then the head was over her right shoulder.

“Hahaaaah! He’s alive, Madsy!” Angelina turned the snake head towards herself. “Ain’t that right, Sylvestah?”

She made it nod. “See?”

[Malkavia]

Sylvester seemed happy — just look at him nod! And smile, with his dimples and pearly plastic fangs. But Madeleine couldn't be sure until she had looked at him up close.

"Let me see," she said, extending her hand. Then, more gently, "I'll give him back."

After she negotiated Sylvester into her arms, she inspected his belly. Her stomach turned as she unwrapped him from Angelina and flipped him over, expecting to see the ugly tightness of a repaired rip. Stuffies scar, just like humans, as the stitching creates an unnatural seam, and fabric lost in the tear creates irregularities in the shape of the toy.

But when Madeleine held Sylvester in her arms, he looked as good as the day he had left the factory. Bennington – somewhere in that complex and quick robotic dance — must have repaired the hole using a technique that folded new fabric into the seams.

Yes... thought Madeleine, running her finger along the edge of the snakes body. I can feel the tiny lump. But the repair was all but invisible—a thousand times better than if she had performed the repair herself.

Madeleine's lips spread into a grin. Not her usual beaming sunshine smile—a real, gleaming, toothy grin, as if she were a schoolgirl again.

My kitten can do THAT.
With aplomb!
With a feline twirl of her elegant fingers, and a flash of her gem-like eyes!

Her. Lovely. Kitten.

As Madeleine put Sylvester back into Angelina's arms, she caught the sight of Charlotte at the edge of her vision. The girl's back was pressed against the wall, as if she expected Bennington to explode any second, her face pale, eyes twitching between Angelina, the animatronic, and Madeleine herself. Madeleine let out a snort of laughter, shaking her head. As if her kitten would ever hurt Madeleine on purpose.

My computer wizard kitten, who can fly off the top rope, with eyes you could drown in. Why didn't more people know Angelina was so talented?

Madeleine put Sylvester back into Angelina's arms, wrapping his body around the thin waist of her dress. "That was perfect, sweet. It's...like I just picked him up from the store." She gave Angelina's squeeze. Then, suddenly wanting more, she leaned in and hugged her kitten, the snake between them, her shoulder over the red-head's neck. "Thank you so much Angelina."

But the hug still wasn't enough. She had never kissed a prodigious software engineer before—nor had she ever kissed a well-known wrestler at LAW, outside of her matches. She planned to fix both deficits, as she slipped back around, planning to plant one, two kisses on her neck, then up to the lips—

"You...fuckin'—You realize she's the reason he'd gotten that hole in his chest, yeah?"

Madeleine's fingers tightened against Angelina's back. "Shut...up Charlotte!" Of course. Of course she had forgotten about the child being there. Her insides ached. She had a suppress a whine in her throat. She wanted that kiss...

"Sure sure sure, yeah. So has she copped to Thistle yet, or is she still lying through her teeth like you're stupid or something?"

[Monsy]

Angelina handed the snake over despite the mistrust that she wouldn't get it back. Even as she was reassured.

Holy fuck, it worked, thought Angelina. There's a kind of high she gets when her tinkering leads to success. No matter the subject matter or the action entailed, or how silly or serious it ways--she loved trying... and winning. It made her calm. Her mindscape turning into flowery colourful fields, shared with Madeleine near the so-called river of Bennington, handing her this brand new gift she made. A picnic date. A snake would be an odd gift, she imagined, but Madeleine loved it. Just as she planned.

And while she waited for her imagination to actualize, her hands linked in front of her. Her chin dipped. She blushed...

She got it back. Her hands opened to receive it and she made the snake tight against her body. What was hers has now returned.

Angelina had a quiet victory hum. Then was pulled in. Warm and close, hands on her hand and head on her chin. She held Madeleine by her waist, placing her hands on either side and pulling her closer while Angelina’s chin rested on Madeleine’s shoulder. The affection felt like a bed with a self-heated mattress in the frosting times of November. She could cling and fall asleep standing up if just even a few minutes. Though she wasn't sure if it was safe to do so yet. So she asked,

“Ya mean it?” Her neck felt little tingles. Instinctively, she opened herself up just a bit. And just before getting the prize she earned… right on cue…

"You...fuckin'—You realize she's the reason he'd gotten that hole in his chest, yeah?"

There goes her mood. Charlotte, ever the blame game. Never the one to consider that this was all her doing. The one still RUINING their special weekend every time she fixed Charlotte's antics. At every turn of exploring the eyes of Madeleine, Charlotte was right there just calling for attention, and spinning whatever meaningless manipulative bullshit she wanted.

Angelina squinted. Steam filled her head. Her throat itched to say something.

"Sure sure sure, yeah. So has she copped to Thistle yet, or is she still lying through her teeth like you're stupid or something?"

“I don’t know what a fuckin' Thistle is!! Her voice erupted loud and powerful, and she pushed against Madeleine like she wanted to get at Shimmer.

"Keep blamin’ me for fake shit and I’ll turn ya teeth into a milk and make ya fuckin’ DRINK IT!” Angelina's turned to a hint of growling at the end. Her face full of distress. She, of course, already imagined how she’d do the milk thing. First, she removes the teeth, then she grinds them into a powder, mix it with baby formula before adding warm water. Mix. Then slam it into her fucking stupid gums. Make her suck from the bottle teat.

“Madsy…” Angelina leaned back in the squeeze and looked at Madeleine with big kitty eyes. Her tone became whiny.

“I didn’t do it. I’m serious. I don’t have it. Ya believe that, right?" Angelina inched in closer to try and kiss near the corner of Madeleine's lip. Her whining tone abruptly ended with a faint whisper.

"Ya should tell her off.”

[Malkavia]

They both talked.

And talked.

And talked.

Madeleine pressed both her index fingers against the bridge of her nose. Breathed in until the cool touch of the air filled her up to her shoulders and down to her toes. And relaxed. When Angelina kissed her, the countess accepted it, like she had once seen a bishop accept a kiss on his sacral ring. After it was done, she stood up straight, gently rolled her shoulders and streeeetched up on her tiptoes, then fell back to her feet.

"I'm very tired." She probably looked the part, she thought. Her eyes felt like they were sagging and sliding down her face, like runny fried eggs. "Charlotte. It's been lovely getting to catch up and look at old photos. But I think it's time for us to have some time alone."

Charlotte frowned. Leaned against the wall. Rubbed her ear as she cocked her head. "Yeah?"

"Yes. If you please."

"Mmm. Kay. Mind if I stay the night? Usual place?"

"Nothing would make me happier, sweet."

"And eh. Any chance..."

Despite the iron sharpening inside Madeleine, her smile broadened at that, as if she had just seen a kitten roll on its back. It had been several years since Charlotte asked for a present. "Yes?"

"Welllll not trying to be greedy but." Shimmmerlace glanced at the floor, sheepish. "You do seem to love ending each night with a little something, ey? Like tradition. Aaaand I did sorta come here without any eh. Cuddlebump companion, as you might say."

Madeleine closed her eyes and spread out her arms in a widge gesture to the booth that had more of the Countess's influence than almost any other in her entire home. "Whatever your eye settles on. What's mine is yours, pet."

"Alright then..."

Her blue-covered-in-pink eyes wandered around the room—from the massive 10-ft tall gorilla in the corner, to any of the dozens of Bennington replicas and miniature wind-up toys. Her look hovered over the unicorn with a golden-threaded horn and fur that felt like real horse hair. She bit her lip as she studied the entire platoon of life-sized parrots with iridescent wings that hung decoratively from the ceiling. A child in a candystore, thought Madeleine with growing satisfaction.

But then, Charlotte pointed at Angelina.

"I'd like to have Sylvester, please. Mads."

Madeleine's eyes popped open. Her lips parted for the barest slip of a second. Then she closed her mouth, frowned at Charlotte. Cold. But she said, "Of course. Sweet. He's all yours."

[Monsy]

Angelina had a grip on Madeleine’s shoulders. Her fingers clawed in, semi-gently, with a look that wanted to be noticed. She couldn’t get a lick of anything, from what she read.

“I’m very tired.”

Fuck your tiredness.

Her eyes dripped until her eyebrows were half-mast. Lips slowly fell into a neutral and miffed posture, watching this whole exchange go down like a human talking to an animal. It’s mystifying. Egregiously ugly by the fake-fake pleasantries. At this point, she knew she was being ganged up on. Letting someone so manipulative into their special weekend. Even if this place was big and grand, Shimmer was always going to be there like a pink spawn of satan.

And Madeleine was inviting it.

“The fuck it is!” Angelina shouted , then pushed Madeleine at her shoulders to step back.

“Oh, oF CoURse, SwEet. UGH!” While mocking, she unwrapped the snake to go around her arm, so the head was inside her clenched fist.

“SUCH a pushover pansy!” Her bottom lip pushed up into a stronger frown.

“She needs to go! Pushed out, foot up the ass and cryin’ on the street!”

Angelina kicked off her shoes again in the general direction of Shimmer across the booth.

“I swear to fuck, it’s like Madeleine is your bitch!”