Lucas is staring at Miss Calculated with a huge grin, even if it is covered by his mask. There are a few alarming creaking noises as he hugs the armload of mannequin limbs he’s carrying a bit too tightly against his chest.

Both Miss Calculated and 23 slowly turn to stare at him.

Meanwhile, Mark just snorts out a bit of laughter.

Blinking a few times, Miss Calculated opens her mouth and hesitates, speechless for a few seconds before thawing enough to begin her academician analysis.

“...Where in the world do you get these ideas from..? But… Well, it certainly could have multiple potential uses… Ah, it obviously needs to be able to retract… But, making the internal components strong enough to lift all of 23, plus anything it is carrying, would be a bit much… Buuut, as long as it can at least lock the arm in place to prevent further extension, it can climb up, like a conventional grappling hook…” While Miss Calculated was decidedly surprised at first, she starts picking up momentum as she starts plotting things out.

“Therefore, the retracting mechanism only needs to be strong enough for the hand itself, plus an extra bit of additional force so as to be able to pull objects towards itself… Hmm, it wouldn’t be used often, so a couple of small solid-fuel rockets. When desired, 23 can ignite additional rockets for longer distances, since they can’t be individually modulated… But once the nuclear reactor is in operation, several other options unlock, since it’s not trying to thrust a particularly heavy object…” While Miss Calculated is enthusiastically geeking out, 23 lifts one of its arms again, reaching it out so far forward it is stretched until it is nearly completely straight.

The reach is fairly impressive once all of the telescopic bands are fully extended. It holds it rigid for a moment, aimed down a hallway, but after only a few seconds it starts to sag down.

23 pulls its arm back into a more normal, greater-than-halfway-retracted neutral state. After looking at Lucas for a few more moments, it turns to face Miss Calculated again.

“Even accounting for property enhancements, any metal that would be sufficiently rigid for an outer shell would be too heavy for a longer reach. It is already borderline untenable as it is. However, we could simply maintain a similar-to-current-length outer telescopic shell for appearance’s sake. Then, an enhancement-treated braided cable around the internal power cable, which could be reeled around my inner chassis, could be the real arm, inside of it. By removing the mechanical property requirements of being able to extend and compress, and instead merely needing to be flexible and durable, it could become a bit more feasible. Perhaps a nanogel treatment could be applied as well to help reduce the friction coefficient of the cord.” While 23 is speaking, Miss Calculated’s expression initially sinks, but then lights up again as it elaborates.

Lucas, however, just has a blank look.

‘...Nerds nerding nerdily. Sounds like a rocket fist might actually happen, though? I think? Eheh… Dope.’

[More like you are a dope. Between your request for… enhanced boomerangs and yo-yos, and now this, I can’t help but wonder what Miss Calculated thinks of you.]

‘...Hell if I know. As long as she keeps making the stuff I ask for, it’s all good, though! Oh shit, she can use Mark’s enhancing tech for my toys, too!’

427, unsurprisingly, replicates a sigh.

Downstairs in Mikah’s bathroom, he suddenly sneezes while in the middle of soaking in a hot bath with a compress across his forehead. If only he was close enough to have heard them, he would be laughing. Well, apart from the whole being shocked by a robotic voice coming out of Lucas’s head part. And then Mark’s response when he hears his reaction. And then the ensuing rollback, etc.

Back on floor 13, though, 23 tilts its head while looking at Miss Calculated, continuing speaking before she begins audibly analyzing anew.

“It is beginning to seem like I will require a larger chassis to contain everything, anyway. So, designing a rotating shell around the innermost components would simply be another modification to the new custom design I would be getting, regardless. My outermost shell would primarily serve to hide the fact my body is entirely wrapped in a coiled cord. And to prevent things from becoming entangled in my arm, I suppose. I trust that designing the lock to also ensure the cable evenly winds around the inner chassis won’t be a challenge for you.” After 23’s addition, Miss Calculated nods repeatedly.

“Right, of course, perfect. Ah, this is rather exciting. I haven’t had many occasions to play with rockets, thanks to the dense field of space junk stuck in orbit from all the destruction wrought by the war. Hmm, I’m sure there could be a locking mechanism that they are attached to, for easy replacement of spent units. Or even to release them at will, either to stop acceleration, or to drop ones that have used up their fuel. I suppose there is also a case to be made for designing ones with enough force that an early release means you can fire them as a weapon, too. Making the fist itself have enough force to be a sufficiently damaging strike at range would be… excessive.” Miss Calculated’s tone when she says excessive at the end implies she hasn’t purposely done things purely for the sake of being excessive in the past.

This implication would be a lie. She has.

Lucas’s enthusiasm over prospective rockets has diminished from all of the technical aspects being discussed. With his attention waned, he returns to the George-related region of the floor.

Rummaging through the rogue remnants of robotic relegations as he roams a random route over, he looks up and finally notices Jonathan awkwardly standing near the elevator.

“Oh, yer still here, kiddo? Hey, before you go, ya should take a few more pics to send to fanboy for our site! Need before and after photos, yeah?” Upon Lucas assigning this task to Jonathan, he flinches.

Despite Jonathan’s regrets over not following his gut and creeping away sooner, he diligently takes out his phone and dutifully documents the disastrous state of the distressingly derelict floor. Perforce of using his powers, he’s done in a short time, even though he was far more cautious while navigating the unstable trashy terrain than a certain endurance-enhanced reckless relative.

Once his mission is complete, Jonathan hits the downward call button for the elevators once more, as the previously waiting one had been sent away during his earlier indecision.

Jonathan gains a bit of spine now that he has foster-father sanctioned permission to leave. He walks over to 23, who is still engaged in tech-talk with Miss Calculated, all while Mark observes with amusement.

“C-could I, um, h-have my keyfob b-back..?” Jonathan manages to even be intimidated when talking to a robot he indirectly owns and can boss around at will.

23 rotates its head to look at him as it opens a small compartment set in its main chassis. It pulls the keyfob out and extends an arm over to offer it to him.

“Certainly, Jonathan. Thank you for loaning it to me. My apologies that I was unable to keep it at your level of cleanliness. I fear my options were limited.” 23 sounds sincere in its apology. But, given the lack of inflections, one could also potentially interpret it as passive-aggressive sarcasm.

Regardless of 23’s intent, Jonathan shyly accepts the keyfob with a quiet “I-it’s okay.”

When an elevator arrives once more, Miss Chievous’s head darts up.

“Wait, you said there is a spa, right!? I wanna go! Bye, George!” She releases the latest right arm she was attempting to attach as a replacement for the foot-filled one, but it wasn’t fully set in place.

Unfortunately for George, the new arm falls to the ground, breaking a few fingertips, just like the last one.

-----

Lucas’s total kills: 7

Lucas’s total deaths: 11

Lucas’s total assists: 1

Lucas’s current GDV: 17.39 (+.01 net change)

Lucas’s fame level: 6.0* (Local fame is completely maxed, he’s creeping up on minor celebrity status even on a global scale. Thanks, internet.)

Lucas's hero suspicion level: 2.0*

Jonathan’s total kills: 7

Jonathan’s total deaths: 2

Jonathan’s current GDV: 6.08 (+.01 net change)

Jonathan's fame level: 4.0* (Local fame is near-max, but everyone thinks of him via his affiliation with Lucas, and not often just for him, alone.)

Jonathan's hero suspicion level: 2.5*

Willy's fame level: 4.5* (With how popular he’s become, it’s only a matter of time before people start realizing just how smart he is.)

Mr. Quacks’s fame level: 5.0* (His local and global fame are nearly even, he’s a full-blown internet sensation.)

Supervillain social circle size: 15

-----

Little character theater:

Jonathan, internally crying over his new companion: ‘Damnit, I was hoping she was distracted enough by George!’

Willy neatly organized all but the latest boxful of bot bits. Recalling the previous recommendations for resting, he trots over to the elevators as well: Bark!

Lucas, looking down at the newly damaged hand: ...Whelp. It’s a good thing I found three more.

427, internally judging Lucas’s priorities and finding them lacking, as usual: [Even Miss Chievous is done with George. When are you going to actually get to work?]

Author, reaching up and smacking their forehead: I knew I was forgetting something! Thanks, 427!

Mr. Quacks, after finally declaring the staring contest a draw, is now once again in Ji-Soo’s office, observing his disgusted expression in response to the images of horrifying filth: Quack.