The Flying Eatery

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Six Million Dollar Man, Jul 8, 2012.

  1. The Flying Eatery is a distinguished restaurant sold to an Immortal Alien Being by a Time Lord prior to the Time War. After regulation by the Jedi Council, Green Lantern Corps, Nova Corps, And Star Command, he was allowed to run it through the multiverses.

    The restaurant serves nearly everything and nothing. The interior designs may change at random to reflect the various styles of different food service establishments.

    Wherever it may go, There WILL be customers, when you see this object: It doubles as a vending machine and doorway into the restaurant.

    Feel free to bring in characters from other stories and roleplays if you want. As soon as I make the first post, detailing the restaurant, you can open up that vending machine and find your way inside.



    [​IMG]

    -

    DESCRIBE YOUR CHARACTER ON THE FIRST POST!!

    *Ahem* If you want to be apart of the Restaurant Staff, shoot me a PM and a character sheet.

    CURRENT STAFF:

    Leopardon The Soldierbot (In Brightest Jay)


     
  2. [​IMG]

    Leopardon was a Six foot tall ex-combat robot that served as a chef in the kitchen, constantly programming information on cooking the near infinite number of possible dishes throughout the multiverses, training himself to detect even the smallest anomaly that makes every meal what it is, in order to properly follow orders. He was also interfaced to the electronic devices placed on the table that seemed similar to ipads, providing dozens of functions, including the menu that worked based on mental input as much as physically touching the screen to confirm orders and all.

    ...

    So, yeah, Leopardon was just flipping burgers for himself in Kitchen #3, the Fast Food prep zone. Now, he was a machine, but he was from a planet of sentient robots. Sort of like Cybertron, but not Cybertron. Anyways, he could do whatever you stinking fleshbags could do and more.

    Oh Yeah.

    [​IMG]
     
  3. Darcy is a tense, slouching girl usually has the posture of a cat about to pounce. Her one good eye is hazel, though it is most often seen squinting through a thick pair of glasses. The other eye, lost in a childhood firecracker accident, is covered by a black eyepatch. The same accident saddled what is otherwise a pretty, youthful face with a dark, discolored patch that is not quite hidden by her wildly curly black coffee hair. She is shorter than most and has a busty build, just barely on the better side of plump from living and eating well in a small, insular community. She is the very definition of racial ambiguity, with tanned skin and rounded facial features.

    Darcy entered the Flying Eatery with a stunned expression; she'd only been trying to bully a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos from a vending machine she'd discovered behind an old building when it had swung open to reveal...a diner? An honest-to-goodness diner. She'd never seen anything so clean and new-looking in her admittedly short life. Slowly she walked to a table and sat in a plush red chair, fiddling with some kind of touch-pad to try and order something to eat. Hopefully they accepted caps here.

    Settling on ordering a plate of cheese fries and a cola, she poorly whistled a half-forgotten tune as she waited on her order.
     
  4. Sophie sat quietly, gazing around the Eatery and eying the various patrons. She was an un-intimidating 5'4" with chin-length burgundy hair, and bangs that swept across her forehead and over one of her green eyes. She didn't look particularly interesting in her white wife-beater and tatty jeans, but she didn't feel the need to stand out, especially not considering her profession.

    Sophie watched a younger woman, rather short, ordering herself some food, and chuckled as she seemed to struggle slightly with the touch-pad. She rose from her seat, and wandered over to her, standing opposite her across the table.

    "Hey there," she greeted. "Can I sit here?"
     
  5. Darcy jumped as she was pulled from her intense scrutiny of the touch-pad by another woman, with hair that Darcy would kill for. Self-consciously she ran a hand through her own, though her fingers got stuck in what was probably a wicked rat's nest. Quickly she kicked a chair out on the the opposite side of the table and made a friendly gesture towards it.

    "Hey, have a seat. Y'all can help me figure out this...computer? It is a computer right?"

    Her words held a distinct twang indicative of a Southern United States upbringing, more specifically the wet area of the Mississippi delta.
     
  6. Leopardon stopped cooking, having completed his personal meal. He peeked outside of the kitchen to see two guests: One of them had come in from another point in time and space, and had been seated, unsure of what to do. Another had just come in from the current area. He casually walked towards them, hoping the image of a combat model robot from another planet wouldn't freak them out.

    "Could I get you ladies anything?" He asked. "I have been programmed to do most of the work here until someone offers to help work here…it's awful being alone and made of super-strong alloy, but I deal with it."
     
  7. The vending machine stood in a corner of the cafeteria - set apart from the other food vendors and decidedly antique. Mercy eyeballed it; and the contents within. Various things lined the little slots; chips, candy bars, drinks. Some of the items foreign to her. Walking over to it, she took a closer look at the contents. What the heck was a Snickers bar? Fortunately, it was modern enough to take credits. Out of curiosity - well, and the fact that the Snickers was made out of chocolate (a rare thing these days), she swiped the card and punched in the corresponding numbers.

    To her surprise, the front of the machine swung open. "What the..." she muttered to herself, emerald hues drinking in the scene before her. It looked like the pictures she'd seen of a 1950's diner. A time long before space colonization and the merging of all nations. She glanced back at the station cafeteria; a cold and sterile thing with robot workers serving up whatever slop passed for lunch these days. Her fellow bounty hunters and officers didn't seem to notice this strange thing, content to chatter amongst themselves; probably talking shop and comparing stories.

    Soft soled boots made hardly a sound as she slipped through that open door. It swung closed behind her; as if to say 'this invitation is just for you'. For a moment, she stood just inside, watching the girls with the robot - this one seemed...sentient? Her fingers danced upon the gun holstered against her thigh, ready to be easily drawn if needed. She wore a black leather body suit, with a gold badge at her chest. The gun seemed to be her only weapon, though on the other side of the belt she wore, there was another loop holding a small communicator. Crimson locks, for once, fell free of her usual braid to frame the surprisingly delicate features of her face. The braid fell against her back, the ends dangling at the small of her back, held with a leather hair thong. She was fairly tall for an earth human, standing at 5'6, with a muscular body - thin, but not too thin. She was a girl used to working. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, perhaps. On the side of her face was a mechanical lens. For the time, it was folded up, at her temple, leaving both eyes to focus on the scene before her.

    A smirk touched her lips as she finally strode inward, heading toward the bar with plush red stools. On the way, she took out a pack of smokes - a pleasure she doesn't usually get to indulge. Cigarettes, in her time, are contraband after all. Where, exactly, she fished out this pack of cigs is unclear because the body suit is rather form fitting. Amazingly, the woman even had a lighter in there - an antique Zippo. Her pride and joy, if only she could show it off. Most things such as her lighter were destroyed in the attempt to make the world "a better place". It had become 'drug paraphenalia.' She sat on a stool, lighting the cigarette and dragging one of the touch pad menus over to her.
     
  8. Franklin approached the floating vending machine with caution. It appeared to be an Earthen device. What it was doing way out here in the vacuum of space was far beyond him. His tentacles bristled more quickly than usual with curiosity and excitement. There was no way it had been placed here intentionally - that was far too random. It was also highly unlikely that it had arrived here by conventional and accidental means. It must have dimension hopping capabilities. He reached out and pressed a few buttons with his thin green fingers, only for it to swing open and reveal a portal into what appeared to be a diner. He straightened his top hat and floated in, landing on the threshold as he encountered its gravity field. He slowly shut the door behind him and swept his eyes over the diner's occupants, hoping none of the humans would have an unfavorable reaction to his appearance.
     
  9. Having just invited the other woman to sit with her, Darcy looked at the robot that had approached her table. For a moment she simply stared, but having been raised not to be rude, she quickly sat up straight and nodded.

    "Can I get some cheese fries?" she asked the robot. He'd said he was looking for workers...and she'd been out of a job for weeks. She wondered what the qualifications were to work at a restaurant inside of a vending machine. She was aware of the lunacy of the situation, but honestly couldn't think of anything better to do with this discovery. Perhaps after her fries arrived, she would inquire about a position. If nothing else, she knew how to wait tables.

    Glancing behind the intimidating-looking robot waiter, she froze in her seat as what she could only describe as an alien entered the diner. This time, she couldn't contain her startled goggling and openly observed the newcomer. He seemed to have good fashion sense at least, with quite a dapper tophat perched upon his...head?

    Shrugging and deciding to embrace the oddity of this place, Darcy waved him over to join her at the table.
     
  10. Franklin noticed one of the humans waving him over and smiled. Franklin was roughly humanoid - one human friend had jokingly called him a cthulu when they had first met, which he had gathered was some kind of mythological monster. His skin was a shockingly bright shade of green, spongy in texture. He had two long legs and two long thin arms and stood approximately seven feet tall. Since he had begun seeking the company of humans he had adopted the habit of wearing human-styled formal wear, although he of course had to get it custom made. He had no hair on his head and no discernible nose - only large black eyes with a mild green pupil, six prehensile tentacles, and a lipped mouth only slightly largely than a human's.
    He strolled over to the table where the two female humans sat and gratefully took a seat.
    "Good day, ladies. How are you?"

    [edited for typo]
     
  11. "Cheese Fries, right…confirmed, affirmative, you get the idea. I'll get to work on them immediately, seeing as everyone else does not require anything for themselves."

    Meanwhile, a bounty hunter and an alien being appeared, the former looking around, and the alien moving in to greet the girls. Deciding he would take his order with Darcy and Sophie. He supposed he could stop by and ask if the bounty hunter wanted anything special, as he used the rockets built into his boots to make his way over to her.

    "Welcome to the flying eatery, miss. Please, take a seat anywhere that is open, and feel free to tell me what you'd like to dine on. I'll have it done in mere moments once I finish my first orders."
     
  12. She heard the door open again - or the portal, whatever it was called. Turning about on her stool, she leaned back and propped her free elbow on the bar's surface. Smoke from the cigarette curls lazily above her head. She didn't show any surprise at the alien striding through the door - humanoid, though with the squiggly arms - six to be exact, it's obvious he's not. Aliens were commonplace for her - space colonization allowed for the discovery of other races or species. And it was common knowledge that there was plenty more to be discovered. She'd never seen one of the kind that joined the girls though and she watched it curiously. By the clothing, she'd guess it to be male.

    When the sentient machine made his way over, she turned around again. She'd forgotten about her menu more or less. "Flying Eatery, huh?" she muses, taking another drag on her cigarette. It was about half gone, and that's about all she could take in any single sitting. "Got an ashtray?" she asks, her voice soft and velvety - nothing at all like what would be expected. She held out her cig as if to say 'see'. "And, maybe a milk shake?" She hoped this place had real ice cream - in her world of synthetic food, anything "organic" or "real" was rare. Especially anything from Earth.
     
  13. "I'll grab one from under the counter. And the last guy who ordered milkshakes here was consuming them like an alcoholic in a bar. Speaking of alcohol, I can mix some into the shake if you're looking to get yourself drunk."

    Leopardon hopped over the counter and produced an ash-tray for the woman. He nodded to her request for a shake. Decidedly, since she never really asked for a flavor, he decided to make what was known as a 'mindfucker's order.' In this case, he was taking a dozen different milkshake flavors and mixing them together. Numerous drink machines, snacks like potato chips and all were here on the outside, as well as extra ones inside the kitchen, as he took out a sizable glass, and slapped it down in front of Mercy, and going into the kitchen for a few moments, before coming back out with cheese fries.

    -

    He rocketed over to the table where Darcy sat, and put the food down.

    "Are your friends ready to order, or shall I return later? Perhaps some water is in order?"
     
  14. "May I please have some salmon and a long island iced tea?" asks Franklin with a smile.
     
  15. "A'ight. Just lemme convert the kitchen. Whenever you order something that isn't usually served in the Flying Eatery's current state, we have to change ourselves up a bit, more so in the kitchen than outside, especially when the majority prefer this type of food and setting as opposed to the one guy, you, no offense. Its restaurant policy."

    Leopardon flew back over the counter and into the kitchen where multiple noises and lights went off, as the android returned with the Salmon and tea instantaneously.

    "There you are. Will you all be sharing the bill, or?…we take any form of currency and convert it into omni-credits."
     
  16. She watches him prepare the milkshake. Fortunately for him, she had no idea how that was actually done - nor did she have much concept on flavors for the milkshake. Oh, sure, at home they came in many flavors...but they were all synthetic. As he placed the glass before her, she looked at it skeptically before taking a tentative sip of the concoction. Her lips puckered and she blinks.

    "No, I think without alcohol is fine..." Again, another rare treat for her. It was deemed illegal before her birth - and unlike the prohibition of the 1920s, this one seemed to be sticking. Of course, like the earlier prohibition, there were moonshiners and runners. She often found herself with bounties to collect them for some sort of parole violation or something. They'd become routine. And like before, there were some large gangs cropping up, though they tended to be nastier than anything she knew about Capone and his ilk.

    She pushed the milkshake back toward Leo, grimacing. "Got anything...sweeter?" she asked, furrowing her brows. It'd been some time since she'd had a milkshake, but she certainly didn't recall them being that...hideous. The question is left unanswered for a moment as the bot takes the alien's order and...what? What was he doing? She shifted on her barstool, peering into the kitchen as lights whirled and whistles ...well, whistled. Did...the kitchen just....change??
     
  17. Leo reached into a compartment on his body and tossed the girl several large packets of sugar, relying on her likely very awesome bounty hunting skills to catch all the packets. But you have to admit, that sounds pretty stupid.

    "This'll help until I get some 'advanced' flavors up in this eating establishment."
     
  18. She did have excellent reflexes; however, she is only human. She managed to catch a couple of the packets before a few fell to the floor. She looked rather confused by the idea of putting sugar in her milkshake. Is that how they did it in the 50s? She knew her history, to some degree - better than a lot of her peers, admittedly. She enjoyed the nostalgic feel of the previous couple of centuries - even going back so far as the Victorian age, but she didn't know as much about that time or before. She'd managed, over time, to collect some artifacts from the 20th and 21st centuries. Most of those artifacts were more expensive than she could afford on a Hunter's salary though - or they were slotted for the few museums that remained world wide.

    She added the sugar to the milkshake, stirring it in as it dissolved. "I don't need advanced..." she muttered to herself, unsure she wanted to find out what that meant, exactly. "Just....good flavor. Strawberry maybe? Chocolate?"
     
  19. As for the matter of payment, Darcy dug her wallet out of her back pocket and retrieved a wrinkled twenty dollar bill. She smoothed it out on her pant leg before handing it to Leopardon.

    "Keep the change for now, honey. I might order something else later."

    Darcy eagerly dug into her cheese fries; they were just as she liked them, thin and crispy, the hot melty cheese not having had time to make the fries soggy yet. As she ate, she mentally sorted through all the questions she wanted to ask this alien; number one being:

    "Uh, so, I'm Darcy. What's your name, sugar?" she extended her non-fry-shoveling hand for a handshake, before wondering if this very green alien man knew what a handshake even was.
     
  20. The eatery was beginning to bustle.

    "I see you've figured out the pad," Sophie smiled as she sat down in the offered chair. (Hope that's alright... Sorry I didn't reply for sucha long time...) "I'm Sophie, and you're... Darcy?" She confirmed tentatively.

    She looked towards the alien man, amused by Darcy's reaction to him. Sophie waited for his name while she perused the menu, scanning the list of alcohol and deciding on a whiskey and coke. It was just then that she noticed Mercy with cigarettes, and Sophie's mind triggered.

    "I don't suppose I could trouble you for one of those..." she said hopefully, pointing to the cigarette Mercy was holding.