mσnѕtrσuѕ vєndíng mαchínє

7 stared up at the man demanding her self, face the picture of unfussed in the dictionary. The placid girl was nearly unable to be intimidated, so while he might have been imposing to most other people in the world, this young woman with the delicate primrose locks simply gazed at him, her hands full of shopping bags and snacks. Crimson eyes relocated from his golden ones to the machine that vexed him. A command to help. That's all she required. It didn't matter what the delivery of said command was like in tone or in motive, a plea for help meant she could accomplish her purpose in living, and that was to be used. No matter was too trivial or too involved for her to lend her entire being to. She wasn't even spurred on by morality or lack there of. 7 was the perfect tool, in the sense of willingness to do as she was told without question and to the best of her ability.

"Okay," came her simple reply. Moving from under his shadow, she rested her things against a nearby wall close enough to keep an eye on them, but far enough away that they couldn't get underfoot. How did she have bags if the stores weren't open yet? Well, they were from the night before. She hadn't gone home to sleep like the normal town folk, choosing instead to read by a fountain in the square until her drowsiness lifted and she could make her way home to start her day. Something about night time longed to draw the curtain of eyelids over sighted windows, but she'd always resist such a thing. In the darkness of night and the darkness of slumber came the images she couldn't rationalize, the things that confused her and in their inexplicable nature frightened the short-lived girl. No matter how much research she did, 7 could find no satisfactory explanation for the visions that plague those that sleep. Having never been a child, she lacked the practice to process the nonsensical. Without creativity and imagination, she was missing a vital piece of the dream puzzle. The clone was a black and white type of mind, astute yet completely gray in her beliefs.

Making her way to the machine, 7 took a long moment to examine it. It seemed a bit old, possibly seized up due to lack of use. It wasn't in a place with much foot traffic. Attempting to jar and shake it was futile. Mashing buttons and pushing the money return button was a failure. Looking for the best way to help, she turned to the man and dug out her wallet from a small purse at her side. She'd spent a lot of her allowance from the profits she brought back to the lab, but she could certainly cover the price of the snack. That was the quickest and most effective answer. "I can offer you replacement money. Will that help you?" she asked, tone a bit flat, though not from any negative attitude. Her default was stoic, and not much had ruffled her out of that state in her five short years of acclimating to the human condition. She was intelligent in many ways, but reading people wasn't her strong suit yet. More abstract notions were new for her, since the subtle nuances of humanity couldn't be effectively taught by book or person. Dr. Raelin did his best, but even he had to admit the best teacher was experience, something she still lacked. It hadn't occurred to her that he might want to exact revenge on the machine for its personal transgression, or want the snack more than the money. That didn't seem efficient.

While she waited for an answer, she placed her foot against the front of the machine and started idly rocking it. Whether he took the money or not, now she kind of wanted to see if she could get the snack free. 7 might be more on the unemotional side, but she did very much like food, and the treats in here were new to her. It slowly started to fascinate her, so if she could just fix it, maybe she could safely spend her cash to try some of them before heading home...the machine started to vibrate, though it still did not release any of the treasures it held hostage. It seemed very stupid to consider the thought that popped in her artificially created brain, but the gyrating seemed almost...menacing. Threatening. Like it was about to try to get rid of them...but it was a simple machine. That was preposterous. That was something that belonged in her hellish dreamscape, not here in the real world where everything had an answer.

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The member 'Calathes' has done the following action : Dice Rolls

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'Monster Dice' :

Despite his general hostility, the girl attempting to help him seemed unruffled. If anything she was analyzing the machine, her head tilted ever so slightly to the side. It was made of metal. She had an affinity for metal. Maybe if she pretended she was a can opener and carved up the menacing metal monolith of money munching, she could reach in and eat it's parts for a nice snack. That should solve the problem. Though it wasn't alive, it would essentially die and then this man could reach in and get the snack worth all of this trouble.

Reaching out into the air, a large obsidian blade appeared in her hand, twisted oddly and seeming slightly dreamy. While the tan specimen of man backed away, she lunched in, trying to pierce what should have been thin metal. Instead, her sword was reflected and it launched a counter attack! Beeping and whirring and grinding its gears, the unmistakable thunk of a heavy drink falling from its shelf of safety toward the dispenser hole could be heard, but instead of a drink appearing gently for retrieval, it was shot at her like cannon ball! "Oof," she huffed as it landed right in her mid section with enough force to skid her back a few feet. Her skin might be resistant, but that still didn't feel very good.

"It's attacking us," 7 commented, stating the obvious with a small amount of interest. How could a vending machine start behaving like it had a will of its own, like it was alive? That should be impossible. She'd never read such a thing, nor had anyone ever mentioned an incident like this before. While her own creation was probably one of those things labled impossible in traditional knowledge outlets, that little fact had little effect on her working knowledge fo the world. Her studies had lead her to know what was and wasn't real, so this fell under dreams to her. Dreams and nightmares defied everything logic and reason stood for, so her conclusion was....she was asleep.

However, this dream was surprisingly more lucid than usual. That was an anomaly in itself she tried to rectify. "Sir, I must be asleep. If you could kick me awake, that would be helpful. If Dr. Raelin finds me sleeping on the bench again, he'll be cross," the pink haired girl spoke, making complete sense to herself but probably not to any to Theo. Deftly she dodged aggressively vended goods being shot at her, as if it wasn't really happening but she also didn't want to take that chance. "However, studies say you can't invent people in dreams, and I'm certain I've never seen you before. If this is a dream, which it must be, are you an invader?"


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So this wasn't a dream? Oh, that perplexed the girl. Her brows puckered a bit, as if the nonsensical nature of this event was very nearly physically painful. Far more bothersome than the snacks and cans pelting her skin, which had sense taken on a scaly metal quality. As things hit her, it sounded like metal smacking metal instead of dull thumps half absorbed by the squishy flesh of a normal body like the tan man near her was experiencing. "I don't understand," she said to him, beginning to half heartedly slice open the assault snacks and smack cans back at the machine as if her sword was the bat to its baseball. "How is this non-living machine behaving...well, anyway at all. It should not have behavior. It's a vending machine."

Her flat voice should have denoted emotionlessness and acceptance, but instead it seemed to hold blatant bamboozlement. This happened on occasion. Her mind didn't handle the illogical and ridiculous at all. The machine now scared her as much as her nightmares did. She couldn't make sense of how it was personifying, unless perhaps it was controlled by someone's magic somewhere? Then what purpose would that serve? Attacking two random people made no sense. Nothing made sense!!

"I want to see how you tick..." she muttered just before opening her mouth. She spewed out a nightmarish display of thousands of rusty spiders. They filled the area around her, but all rushed the machine, wiggling into every nook and cranny of the possessed snack contraption. The machine bucked and screeched as damage was done, from the inside and one rusty spider leg at a time. Now that it was occupied with its new illness, the clone turned to the dazed man half probably collapsed behind a trashcan. Placing her hardened body between him and the trembling metal enemy, she both shielded hi and answered him. "My designation is 7. You may call me whatever you wish."


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