"Doc" Emmett L. Brown (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
4thdimensional) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
interstellar55552016-03-25 01:06 am
4thdimensional) wrote in interstellar55552016-03-25 01:06 am
Entry tags:
travels of the time doctor
Who: Doc Brown Mr. Brandt and you!
What: Fixing-up, meeting and greeting, learning!
When: Various days, late March
Where: Various places
Warnings: Possible science talk, possible angst. Will update if needed.
a: the rusty greasemonkey
Anyone who may have car trouble is in luck. Beeker's Garage is running a special: deep discounts on the services of their newest mechanic, weird old Mr. Brandt! He holds back that long white hair with a surprisingly colorful bandanna, and when someone should stop in to talk business, he's always walking around the counter with a friendly smile. Sure, he's being paid peanuts for the same work the others get paid handsomely for, but he doesn't seem to mind.
"Welcome to Beeker's, nobody beats our service! My name is Brandt, how might I assist you?"
'
b. searching for sunshine
When he's not at the garage, 'Mr. Brandt' has a tendency to spend all his spare time on research. If his nose isn't up a borrowed book about the histories of various musical genres, he's reading about space exploration or psychology. Whatever he's reading, he has a tendency to get fully absorbed in it to the point that he loses track of all else.
As it happens, his foot slips, and Doc the beanpole will be crashing into the nearest bystander or bodyguard. He immediately tenses up and drops the book, quickly moving into a placating stance.
"My apologies! I allowed myself to get caught up in the story to the point that I rendered myself a walking hazard---are you injured? Do you need ice?"
In the middle of his fussing, anyone who looks to the ground might find his largely-illegible dropped blueprints. They're vehicle designs for the most part, though there's also some strange helmet device in the mix.
c. in search of clarity
When night falls, Doc allows himself to drop the bluster a little. He opts for his usual trenchcoat and hat as he walks along the lit roads. It's not until he reaches a slight hill in a closed park that he stops, pulling a small brass telescope out of his pocket. From here, in a small oasis of quiet, he turns to study the stars. It's difficult breaking through the light pollution, but a few of his own enhancements make everything clear.
He vaguely sketches a few stars in the dim light, noting the differences with his own Earth's view. It's a beautiful skyscape, and one he'd be thrilled to share with anyone.
But late at night, when he's dreading crawling back to the old rustbucket of a car for sleep, his attention invariably drifts to a certain label's headquarters. It's absolutely ridiculous, of course, playing like some Peeping Tom. He won't see anyone from here, least of all Marty. But just eyeing the building is a sobering example of the challenge ahead. His best friend's ensnared in that fortress, chained in a terrible sort of way.
Anyone who stumbles upon Doc at that point will find him with his hat over his eyes, hands balled into fists. They absolutely cannot afford to lose.
What: Fixing-up, meeting and greeting, learning!
When: Various days, late March
Where: Various places
Warnings: Possible science talk, possible angst. Will update if needed.
a: the rusty greasemonkey
Anyone who may have car trouble is in luck. Beeker's Garage is running a special: deep discounts on the services of their newest mechanic, weird old Mr. Brandt! He holds back that long white hair with a surprisingly colorful bandanna, and when someone should stop in to talk business, he's always walking around the counter with a friendly smile. Sure, he's being paid peanuts for the same work the others get paid handsomely for, but he doesn't seem to mind.
"Welcome to Beeker's, nobody beats our service! My name is Brandt, how might I assist you?"
'
b. searching for sunshine
When he's not at the garage, 'Mr. Brandt' has a tendency to spend all his spare time on research. If his nose isn't up a borrowed book about the histories of various musical genres, he's reading about space exploration or psychology. Whatever he's reading, he has a tendency to get fully absorbed in it to the point that he loses track of all else.
As it happens, his foot slips, and Doc the beanpole will be crashing into the nearest bystander or bodyguard. He immediately tenses up and drops the book, quickly moving into a placating stance.
"My apologies! I allowed myself to get caught up in the story to the point that I rendered myself a walking hazard---are you injured? Do you need ice?"
In the middle of his fussing, anyone who looks to the ground might find his largely-illegible dropped blueprints. They're vehicle designs for the most part, though there's also some strange helmet device in the mix.
c. in search of clarity
When night falls, Doc allows himself to drop the bluster a little. He opts for his usual trenchcoat and hat as he walks along the lit roads. It's not until he reaches a slight hill in a closed park that he stops, pulling a small brass telescope out of his pocket. From here, in a small oasis of quiet, he turns to study the stars. It's difficult breaking through the light pollution, but a few of his own enhancements make everything clear.
He vaguely sketches a few stars in the dim light, noting the differences with his own Earth's view. It's a beautiful skyscape, and one he'd be thrilled to share with anyone.
But late at night, when he's dreading crawling back to the old rustbucket of a car for sleep, his attention invariably drifts to a certain label's headquarters. It's absolutely ridiculous, of course, playing like some Peeping Tom. He won't see anyone from here, least of all Marty. But just eyeing the building is a sobering example of the challenge ahead. His best friend's ensnared in that fortress, chained in a terrible sort of way.
Anyone who stumbles upon Doc at that point will find him with his hat over his eyes, hands balled into fists. They absolutely cannot afford to lose.
no subject
"I'll call for help! I'm sure you can sue my workplace for damages somehow---there's not any money to my name, unfortunately, but they'll fire me and you'll be on your way..."
His apologies trail off, and he tenses just a little. Those blueprints are important secrets. And unfortunately it looks like the man with the glass eye is sharp enough to glean information from them.
"Those are mere pie in the sky dreams," he denies, pulling that old brown coat more tightly around himself. "Ramblings of a lunatic, nothing more. But are you sure you're all right?"
no subject
Now it's Bill walking with his face buried in papers. Sorry buddy, his own bandmate's can't get him to hand over sheet music or a takeout menu, you aren't getting your stuff back until he is good and done!
"--but THIS lunatic says, you're not gonna get any serious mileage outta this unless you add a few more 0's to that voltage count-"
Well, maybe for a safe design you could; but where would the fun be in that?
no subject
---suggestions? Against his better judgment, he listens.
"One has to consider where on earth I'd obtain that voltage, but it's theoretically possible of course."
He's almost caught up by now. "You wouldn't happen to be with a local university, would you?"
Hey, he hasn't quite memorized a database of all the musicians just yet. Just the ones directly related to his target.
no subject
At his question Bill has to laugh. It isn't often someone misses who he is, but even if he plays jazz-related genre, he supposes ViP isn't for every generation. He turns on his heel to face Doc once more.
"NOPE! Name's Bill; Bill Cipher! Vandalism in Progress, play electroswing for Virgo; best sax musician this side of Vista!"
no subject
"I apologize---I'm from a ways out of town, and I've heard interesting things about the local music scene. You're enjoying it?"
An odd question to ask a star, but Doc's an odd person, as ever.
no subject
"As well as one can; I mean you tell people if you enjoy your job, bub?"
He puffs a breathe of air in thought. Hnn, what to say?
"Has it's ups, has its downs-- it's ah, occupational hazards-"
Like losing your eye and attempting murder.
"BUT I can't imagine what else I'd be doing!..."
Literally, he can't; AH, the joys of brainwashing! Bill squints his eyes shut as, the hand he is holding with papers with begins to droop and his the other goes to fuss with his temples. Ugh; again with the migraines.
no subject
Though something twists in his gut at Bill's phrasing. Can't imagine anything else...it'd be innocent in any other context, but he always has to wonder. Not that he can do so obviously, but...he'll just shake his head and smile.
Doc should probably get out of his way, but there's one problem with that.
"You need a shot of caffeine this morning? The coffee nearby isn't the greatest, but it'll do in a pinch."
no subject
"Hnn, yeah, I could go for some."
Maybe it's the topic change, or the fact that the subject is coffee, but he is starting to look a little better. Bill gestures for Doc to lead the way, with eyes still half squinted shut. If Doc cares to notice, two bulky men in suits also turn to follow the pair, hanging a good ten feet back. Cipher waves dismissively.
"Aw, never mind TWEEDLE DEE and TWEEDLE DUM back there; they act as my shadow wherever I go-- never get to close though, UNLESS YA WANNA HANG WITH ME, EH?"
Predictably, the Virgo guard is unresponsive.
"Yeah; s'what I thought. Aaaanyway, consider their business arrangement strictly protection."
He smirks, holding the blueprints like they are some kind of newspaper now.
"But you're not planning on stuffing me in a box somewhere, are ya Teach?"
no subject
He nudges the coffee shop door open. "Are the blueprints really so strange?"
no subject
Go ahead Doc, go kidnap the hell out of somebody! Bill hums thoughtfully to himself as they enter the shop, half listening, half looking about the new surroundings.
"Hey, it ain't sheet music and its not tabloid research- just about anything else I'd read right now."
Although you keep distracting him from figuring out what it is...
no subject
The words were out of Doc's mouth before he could quite stop them. That is precisely the type of device he wants to dismantle and reverse-engineer, yes, but that doesn't mean he's reached the stage of attempting to figure out its construction yet.
"No, of course not. That's entirely ridiculous. They're of more personal relevance."
With that said, he slips to the counter and orders his coffee, grateful for a momentary distraction. He drinks his rather strong and entirely unsweetened.
no subject
Bill takes a moment to place his own order, giving Doc a short reprieve from his antics. His hands now preoccupied with coffee, he breathes in the steam and finally hands the papers back.
"All right, so nothing that will punch a hole in the fabrics of space-time. I'll bite. What are ya buildin there chief? Vehicle of some kind?"
no subject
Doc looks suspiciously sheepish. It's not like any of his vehicles have ever punched holes in the space-time continuum or anything...
"Given what this city seems to value, the greatest emphasis will be style."
And the designs are indeed sleek, just as he likes them.
Apologies for the unexpected hiatus; feel free to drop me if you wish
"Ah, they do at that."
Though he must say he is somewhat disappointed to hear such a normal answer.
"Well if you're going for the avant garde approach; spicing up those designs with a few extra features can also account for some style"
With those calculations he is sure this guy can do it. He'll leave it at that.
"Mm. Anyway. Guy like you got a name? Usually helps to know before the tabloids go and label you something unsavory."
no subject
"Willard Brandt, auto-mechanic. About as far removed from the local music industry as one can get---my contact largely seems to be with fans who find their vehicles damaged in the chaos of a concert. I've seen guitar-shaped dents more than once."
He laughs at this.
no subject
"Well people seen with me don't tend to go unmentioned for long. If I were you, I'd prepare for a few more onlookers Mr. Mech."
He shakes off the last peal of chuckling.
"It's a fine perspective of the scene to be sure, but I refuse to believe you haven't at least heard some of music. Come on, guy like you's got a genre niche or something. No one in Virgo you're watching?"
no subject
And that brings them around to the subject of the local music scene. "If I'm honest, I have a fondness for Defying Atmosphere. Clever style, fun themes."
And a certain best friend he's desperately trying to reach.