Geniuses at Work (October 2021)
TELSTAR
Telstar trucks his way to Tsaria’s place, balancing 2 dozen donuts on top of a paper box full of IMPORTANT PLANS. He even brought his guitar to provide inspirado if needed.
“Open up Beatnik! Time to dive into show biz. No business like it—no business I know.”
TSARIA
The Tsaria who came to the door was one who was ready for work. Granted, maybe not dressed for the sort of work Telstar was used to doing with her—strapped up and ready to ship out—but in lieu of her usual, go-to military garb, a modern day smock made of a hoodie with obvious spray paint castoff up BOTH sleeves and parkour-worthy joggers, as well as all that long, beautiful iridescent hair yanked back into the most haphazard half-bun made it known he was dealing with Exodus and not Star tonight.
“Bring it in, rockstar,” Tsaria grinned and snaked the two boxes of donuts from him, holding them out and above their heads so she might give him a hug before granting him access to the tiny little hangar shack she’d been renting. It was beyond simple living: this was bare bones. Like…we’re talking Crane-style living, Telstar; I’m sure you’re familiar!
Still, it was endearing to see how sincerely Tsaria had tried to set them up a collaborative work station: proper lighting, a desk she’d Jerry-rigged together out of milk crates, toolboxes, and what appeared to be a rusty old sign outlining the rules and regulations of the New Haven space-dock.
TELSTAR
Telstar isn’t shocked—his current abode is back to the secret room in behind the Rusty Shovel, and is about as spartan as Tsaria’s place. Maybe not so neat but just as alarmingly void of much personality.
Like a turtle, Telstar must carry his personality wherever he goes. The hug is returned with friendly gusto, grinning behind his glasses. “Lookit’ you Bob Ross! All kitted out.” Relieved of his foodstuffs, Telstar dusts himself off, leans his guitar against the ‘table’, and digs into bis breast pockets for paraphernalia.
He sticks an unlit joint in his mouth and opens the paper-box. “Dig it! Got the idea for the intro issue. Based on a true story. Just basic character intro with an action sequence, yeah? Something to kick off, get folk interested before I work into an extended universe, justice league biz.” He chatters on, envisioning more than he can make happen—at least on his own.
TSARIA
“Had to look the part! Didn’t want you second guessing who you came to for this project just because I’ve been out of the game for a minute.” Tsaria grinned.
A little too excited to see that joint, the Fayenal steals it right out from between Telstar’s lips, but only so that she might light it stoked by her own mouth (Heaven forbid she singe him with a stray match; Star had no lighter to her name). Returning the now burning bud to its original puffer, Exodus kicked up her heels, leaned back in her “seat” (honestly, was ALL of her furniture just repurposed milk crates?) and propped a sketch pad across her knee.
“If anyone can run their mouth and paint a picture doing it, Tel, it’s you. So go on, I’m listening. Let’s see what comes from it first pass and then we’ll finesse from there, yeah?”
The space elf gestured at her brother in arms after he’d helped himself to the first drag, greedily wanting to partake. Taking a deep inhale, if Tsaria thought she could hang, she was wrong, and that entire, ambitious full lung came sputtering out in laughing coughs.
“Ffffff-hyuck,” Star wheezed, sounding like some pothead version of Goofy. Her eyes were left stinging even worse than the rookie-raw of her throat. Still, she doubled down and took another hit, but this time did so modestly and managed alright.
TELSTAR
Telstar doesn’t put up a fight, and when she tries to pass the joint back he just holds up his hands. “No no! You keep at it. I got more. Gotta’ get my head centred first and then I can kick it up, yeah?”
He digs through his box, pulling out a file with loose pages clipped in a rough order. “Now, I ain’t no artist, but I did some rough boards of what I was thinking…”
The cover is a rough sketch of himself, from the back, walking down an alley toward a triumvirate of skinheads. The title, of course, is Telstar Blue. As suggested, he paints a picture…
“Dig this, ok? Opens on a concert, starring yours truly. Large bar venue, don’t want to make you tediously draw a thousand people. Glamour shots of me doing my thang, looking cool, then the pit starts to get wild with Lux sympathizers generally acting like pigs toward any non-humans.
We follow them for a part of the issue once the concert ends, until they hear music following then to the darker parts of NH.
Then BOOM! I’m behind them, say something cool, then we get a big PG-13 fight scene. Ends with them getting offed spectacularly, I leave a calling card, say something else cool, and issue ends promising more to come. “
He tries not to laugh at her reaction to the toke, pressing his lips together firmly. “Ain’t bad, right? In our line of work it beats painkillers and Stardust. Everything else eats at you before long.”
He finds a place to sit, pulling a second joint from his jumpsuit and lighting it up with another slight-of-hand produced lighter. He inhales deeply, coughing politely afterward. “So…” He exhales “What’cha thinkin’ Boss?”
TSARIA
Tsaria let the joint hang from her lips, needing to only purse her mouth to create enough of a vacuum to puff acrid dragon smoke through her nose as she began drafting.
Concert. Got it. Vague mass of adoring fans. Check. Several different stills to choose from, classic rockstar poses of Telstar on check: Tsaria was all over that one in particular, definitely seeming to hit her artistic stride in a hurry as she scratched away on that sketch pad.
...depictions of Lux, however...well, she seemed to slow down. Exodus considered the images conjured in her head, and didn't seem to like that she recalled specific people--she didn't want to draw Harpur's face there in the crowd...like he had been that night at Inverted Gravity.
Tsaria snapped back to reality then, realizing Telstar had spoken to her, but unfortunately she hadn't heard a single word he said after the general rundown of what he wanted drawn into that vintage comic book blocking. "I...sorry. No, no, it's good. This is all gold. Quintessential Telstar, through and through, just...ehhh, I'm not high enough to draw Lux shit yet. Just...gimme a minute, okay?" She grinned with weary apology up at her dear friend and took another hit.
TELSTAR
Telstar leans back in his makeshift seat, exhaling for a long time. He has spent too much time running from job to job, scrambling to get cash, ensuring that he has enough to keep Laurus comfy and eventually pay for a lawyer…He probably needed this as much as Tsaria, though less likely to admit it.
He pulls out a second folder from the box, leafing through, and tossing it to Tsaria once she has a creative lull. “Run your peepers over that. Phase 2. Soon as I get a couple prototypes and a pitch I’m going to peel down to a primo producer.” Telstar CAN draw, but he is more of an engineer than an artist. Inside are schematics for action figures…
Besides himself, with a 6 Million Dollar Man doll amount of special features, he has created ones for friends that strike him as toyetic: Khasus with extra points of articulation and tail-whipping action, Crane with quick-draw action and removable hat, Val with a speeder bike and real brushable hair, a sea-themed teen with light up eyes and star-fish ninja stars—a couple others that they may or may not recognize, and of course, Tsaria herself.
It looks pretty cool—she obviously gave Telstar some solid inspiration. Her holo-limbs are translucent plastic, she is dressed in the rad-looking duds they wore the last time Telstar saw her in combat, and she comes with a small library of teeny plastic firearms. It is a cool toy.
“Bee’s knees, right? Get me a few issues done, wait for some momentum to build, then introduce new characters to the comic until I got a wave 1 toy-line ready to go. Kids will love ‘em.” Be pauses, taking another long drag and holding it in…”That’s the point, Star” He says tightly, before exhaling. “It’s goddamn scary out there. Lots of kids, they…They want something to hope for, something real. Someone that can save them from all the badness out there.” He blinks a couple times, finding the nearest ashtray or ashtray substitute. “I ain’t just in this to see my face in lights, dig? I’m going to do the right thing or die trying, and…Make a Telstar that people will believe in.” He smirks, sheepishly aware of his own corny sentimentality.
He laughs, shaking his head. “Hah, take your time with Lux. Make ‘em as ugly as you please.” This is as much her project now as his, he wants to give her artistic freedom.
TSARIA
Tsaria seemed to have caught her second wind, if only with Telstar’s blessing, and was currently scratching aggressively into her sketch of a particular Lux face in the crowd. There was something…surprisingly cathartic about being able to put his likeness onto paper, as it was a medium that she could entirely control. Star looked up at her friend and smiled. Yep, she was gonna be okay.
Tsaria had been fond of Telstar for as long as she’d known him, but his over the top persona did not always translate with the most sincerity. This though…this wasn’t a caricature. The words he was saying, the intent beyond the glitz and the glamor, wasn’t just some glory hound hellbent on fame and fortune.
“Sounds like the kind of hero we all need,” Tsaria remarked thoughtfully and nodded her most subtle but genuine stamp of approval.
She took another puff of the space weed Telstar had been generous enough to offer and studied the details of the action figure prototype. Star laughed. “This is literally the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
TELSTAR
Telstar sits back, lost in thought, twisting the joint around between his finger and thumb thoughtfully. It seems rude to stare at an artist at work when they are creating, so he doesn’t. “Heh, that’s the plan. Hero for anyone who needs one. Throw some contact info in the comic. Might need a secretary.”
“I got a first run all laid out—mostly action, lil’romance, bounty hunt-turned larger scale action…buncha’ dead Lux. Slow introduction of characters that’ll build into a Justice League collab’ in the second run of issues—it’ll be foolproof!” He declares, grinning confidently. “Course, you only gotta’ be in this as long as you want. Money too little or time too much, I can find others—but at least for the first issue? I needed the BEST.” He is surprisingly easy-going for someone who wants an empire of sorts.
He brightens noticeably despite the cool-guy exterior at the encouragement “Yessir Boss! Only the coolest fucking things’ll have my name on it!” He holds up the schematics for a kid-sized guitar. “Child-size roleplay accessories…Besides the sound and lights, the wammy bar works as an air pump to shoot foam missiles out the neck!” Does he ever sleep? Are the sunglasses just to hide his dark-circled wrinkled eyes?
He lets Star work for a spell, reviewing the comic script and re-touching the dialogue here or there. “What’s next for you, Star? Got a job lined up, or on vacay?”
TSARIA
At this point, it's all about finessing and fine tuning the details. Hell, Tsaria even provides Telstar with a proper editing pen so that he can redline the whole damn page if he feels like: she won't be insulted, it's part of the process.
While he does that, she smokes. By far the most relaxed she's been in quite some time, a mental note is made to invest in keeping some of the good shit on her at all times.
But alas, serious conversation, even with the king of not taking anything too much on the chin, is inevitable, no matter how innocent the question. "I'm gonna track down my daughter."
...um, excuse me?
Daughter?
Did anyone even know Star had a kid prior to like...right now?
Just Judax.
And, if you could believe it, that was just the tip of the iceberg as far as all the shit people didn't know about Tsaria. Not because they didn't care, but because whether Blackout was long gone or not, Lux was still out there and keeping her mouth shut and folks in the dark was the only way she knew to keep Everi safe.
TELSTAR
Telstar considers himself better at creating static images to help his engineering. He can sketch a form, but for the movement and exciting layout of a comic, he lets Star go as far as they want. As long as Telstar has feet and a reasonable amount of pouches he likely has few to no editing requests.
Telstar feels a load off his shoulders from smoking along with her. He seems to run himself ragged, which is normally covered by his eminence front. No one knows how little he sleeps.
He doesn’t choke on his joint or gasp or fall over in shock, just a single eyebrow appears over his glasses. “…Need help?” he asks, already committing himself without a thought. He seems to understand—if he never got it before, Laurus being in his life made him get it. On second thought “Hell, you’re gettin’ help. Just tell me where to shoot.”
TSARIA
It wouldn't be too long after Telstar offered and Tsaria accepted his help that Crane contacted him via commlink about Laurus's disappearance. Tsaria understood, even more deeply now knowing that Telstar had taken up the helm of parenthood himself, and told him to go and find his own kid before worrying about hers. She'd also offer her assistance: maybe she has a contact--coughJudaxcough--who runs in the same high end/black market event circles that Andrei does. When Crane & Telstar narrow down that Laurus's bounty hasn't been cashed in, so it has to be something else, Exodus will make a few calls and see what turns up, ya dig?
TELSTAR
Telstar sobers up quick at the news, and looks almost sick afterward. Feeling somewhere between terror and homicidal rage, he hurries to collect all his instruments of violence before he hits the street. All his plans and art are left with Star.
“I’ll find her.” He promises to his bestie. “I’ll burn down the goddamn galaxy if I have to, but I’ll find her.” Telstar seethes. “But…Keep an ear on the ground. Be sending you a jingle in 24 hours if I don’t suss it out. Thanks Boss.”
He runs.
TELSTAR
Telstar trucks his way to Tsaria’s place, balancing 2 dozen donuts on top of a paper box full of IMPORTANT PLANS. He even brought his guitar to provide inspirado if needed.
“Open up Beatnik! Time to dive into show biz. No business like it—no business I know.”
TSARIA
The Tsaria who came to the door was one who was ready for work. Granted, maybe not dressed for the sort of work Telstar was used to doing with her—strapped up and ready to ship out—but in lieu of her usual, go-to military garb, a modern day smock made of a hoodie with obvious spray paint castoff up BOTH sleeves and parkour-worthy joggers, as well as all that long, beautiful iridescent hair yanked back into the most haphazard half-bun made it known he was dealing with Exodus and not Star tonight.
“Bring it in, rockstar,” Tsaria grinned and snaked the two boxes of donuts from him, holding them out and above their heads so she might give him a hug before granting him access to the tiny little hangar shack she’d been renting. It was beyond simple living: this was bare bones. Like…we’re talking Crane-style living, Telstar; I’m sure you’re familiar!
Still, it was endearing to see how sincerely Tsaria had tried to set them up a collaborative work station: proper lighting, a desk she’d Jerry-rigged together out of milk crates, toolboxes, and what appeared to be a rusty old sign outlining the rules and regulations of the New Haven space-dock.
TELSTAR
Telstar isn’t shocked—his current abode is back to the secret room in behind the Rusty Shovel, and is about as spartan as Tsaria’s place. Maybe not so neat but just as alarmingly void of much personality.
Like a turtle, Telstar must carry his personality wherever he goes. The hug is returned with friendly gusto, grinning behind his glasses. “Lookit’ you Bob Ross! All kitted out.” Relieved of his foodstuffs, Telstar dusts himself off, leans his guitar against the ‘table’, and digs into bis breast pockets for paraphernalia.
He sticks an unlit joint in his mouth and opens the paper-box. “Dig it! Got the idea for the intro issue. Based on a true story. Just basic character intro with an action sequence, yeah? Something to kick off, get folk interested before I work into an extended universe, justice league biz.” He chatters on, envisioning more than he can make happen—at least on his own.
TSARIA
“Had to look the part! Didn’t want you second guessing who you came to for this project just because I’ve been out of the game for a minute.” Tsaria grinned.
A little too excited to see that joint, the Fayenal steals it right out from between Telstar’s lips, but only so that she might light it stoked by her own mouth (Heaven forbid she singe him with a stray match; Star had no lighter to her name). Returning the now burning bud to its original puffer, Exodus kicked up her heels, leaned back in her “seat” (honestly, was ALL of her furniture just repurposed milk crates?) and propped a sketch pad across her knee.
“If anyone can run their mouth and paint a picture doing it, Tel, it’s you. So go on, I’m listening. Let’s see what comes from it first pass and then we’ll finesse from there, yeah?”
The space elf gestured at her brother in arms after he’d helped himself to the first drag, greedily wanting to partake. Taking a deep inhale, if Tsaria thought she could hang, she was wrong, and that entire, ambitious full lung came sputtering out in laughing coughs.
“Ffffff-hyuck,” Star wheezed, sounding like some pothead version of Goofy. Her eyes were left stinging even worse than the rookie-raw of her throat. Still, she doubled down and took another hit, but this time did so modestly and managed alright.
TELSTAR
Telstar doesn’t put up a fight, and when she tries to pass the joint back he just holds up his hands. “No no! You keep at it. I got more. Gotta’ get my head centred first and then I can kick it up, yeah?”
He digs through his box, pulling out a file with loose pages clipped in a rough order. “Now, I ain’t no artist, but I did some rough boards of what I was thinking…”
The cover is a rough sketch of himself, from the back, walking down an alley toward a triumvirate of skinheads. The title, of course, is Telstar Blue. As suggested, he paints a picture…
“Dig this, ok? Opens on a concert, starring yours truly. Large bar venue, don’t want to make you tediously draw a thousand people. Glamour shots of me doing my thang, looking cool, then the pit starts to get wild with Lux sympathizers generally acting like pigs toward any non-humans.
We follow them for a part of the issue once the concert ends, until they hear music following then to the darker parts of NH.
Then BOOM! I’m behind them, say something cool, then we get a big PG-13 fight scene. Ends with them getting offed spectacularly, I leave a calling card, say something else cool, and issue ends promising more to come. “
He tries not to laugh at her reaction to the toke, pressing his lips together firmly. “Ain’t bad, right? In our line of work it beats painkillers and Stardust. Everything else eats at you before long.”
He finds a place to sit, pulling a second joint from his jumpsuit and lighting it up with another slight-of-hand produced lighter. He inhales deeply, coughing politely afterward. “So…” He exhales “What’cha thinkin’ Boss?”
TSARIA
Tsaria let the joint hang from her lips, needing to only purse her mouth to create enough of a vacuum to puff acrid dragon smoke through her nose as she began drafting.
Concert. Got it. Vague mass of adoring fans. Check. Several different stills to choose from, classic rockstar poses of Telstar on check: Tsaria was all over that one in particular, definitely seeming to hit her artistic stride in a hurry as she scratched away on that sketch pad.
...depictions of Lux, however...well, she seemed to slow down. Exodus considered the images conjured in her head, and didn't seem to like that she recalled specific people--she didn't want to draw Harpur's face there in the crowd...like he had been that night at Inverted Gravity.
Tsaria snapped back to reality then, realizing Telstar had spoken to her, but unfortunately she hadn't heard a single word he said after the general rundown of what he wanted drawn into that vintage comic book blocking. "I...sorry. No, no, it's good. This is all gold. Quintessential Telstar, through and through, just...ehhh, I'm not high enough to draw Lux shit yet. Just...gimme a minute, okay?" She grinned with weary apology up at her dear friend and took another hit.
TELSTAR
Telstar leans back in his makeshift seat, exhaling for a long time. He has spent too much time running from job to job, scrambling to get cash, ensuring that he has enough to keep Laurus comfy and eventually pay for a lawyer…He probably needed this as much as Tsaria, though less likely to admit it.
He pulls out a second folder from the box, leafing through, and tossing it to Tsaria once she has a creative lull. “Run your peepers over that. Phase 2. Soon as I get a couple prototypes and a pitch I’m going to peel down to a primo producer.” Telstar CAN draw, but he is more of an engineer than an artist. Inside are schematics for action figures…
Besides himself, with a 6 Million Dollar Man doll amount of special features, he has created ones for friends that strike him as toyetic: Khasus with extra points of articulation and tail-whipping action, Crane with quick-draw action and removable hat, Val with a speeder bike and real brushable hair, a sea-themed teen with light up eyes and star-fish ninja stars—a couple others that they may or may not recognize, and of course, Tsaria herself.
It looks pretty cool—she obviously gave Telstar some solid inspiration. Her holo-limbs are translucent plastic, she is dressed in the rad-looking duds they wore the last time Telstar saw her in combat, and she comes with a small library of teeny plastic firearms. It is a cool toy.
“Bee’s knees, right? Get me a few issues done, wait for some momentum to build, then introduce new characters to the comic until I got a wave 1 toy-line ready to go. Kids will love ‘em.” Be pauses, taking another long drag and holding it in…”That’s the point, Star” He says tightly, before exhaling. “It’s goddamn scary out there. Lots of kids, they…They want something to hope for, something real. Someone that can save them from all the badness out there.” He blinks a couple times, finding the nearest ashtray or ashtray substitute. “I ain’t just in this to see my face in lights, dig? I’m going to do the right thing or die trying, and…Make a Telstar that people will believe in.” He smirks, sheepishly aware of his own corny sentimentality.
He laughs, shaking his head. “Hah, take your time with Lux. Make ‘em as ugly as you please.” This is as much her project now as his, he wants to give her artistic freedom.
TSARIA
Tsaria seemed to have caught her second wind, if only with Telstar’s blessing, and was currently scratching aggressively into her sketch of a particular Lux face in the crowd. There was something…surprisingly cathartic about being able to put his likeness onto paper, as it was a medium that she could entirely control. Star looked up at her friend and smiled. Yep, she was gonna be okay.
Tsaria had been fond of Telstar for as long as she’d known him, but his over the top persona did not always translate with the most sincerity. This though…this wasn’t a caricature. The words he was saying, the intent beyond the glitz and the glamor, wasn’t just some glory hound hellbent on fame and fortune.
“Sounds like the kind of hero we all need,” Tsaria remarked thoughtfully and nodded her most subtle but genuine stamp of approval.
She took another puff of the space weed Telstar had been generous enough to offer and studied the details of the action figure prototype. Star laughed. “This is literally the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
TELSTAR
Telstar sits back, lost in thought, twisting the joint around between his finger and thumb thoughtfully. It seems rude to stare at an artist at work when they are creating, so he doesn’t. “Heh, that’s the plan. Hero for anyone who needs one. Throw some contact info in the comic. Might need a secretary.”
“I got a first run all laid out—mostly action, lil’romance, bounty hunt-turned larger scale action…buncha’ dead Lux. Slow introduction of characters that’ll build into a Justice League collab’ in the second run of issues—it’ll be foolproof!” He declares, grinning confidently. “Course, you only gotta’ be in this as long as you want. Money too little or time too much, I can find others—but at least for the first issue? I needed the BEST.” He is surprisingly easy-going for someone who wants an empire of sorts.
He brightens noticeably despite the cool-guy exterior at the encouragement “Yessir Boss! Only the coolest fucking things’ll have my name on it!” He holds up the schematics for a kid-sized guitar. “Child-size roleplay accessories…Besides the sound and lights, the wammy bar works as an air pump to shoot foam missiles out the neck!” Does he ever sleep? Are the sunglasses just to hide his dark-circled wrinkled eyes?
He lets Star work for a spell, reviewing the comic script and re-touching the dialogue here or there. “What’s next for you, Star? Got a job lined up, or on vacay?”
TSARIA
At this point, it's all about finessing and fine tuning the details. Hell, Tsaria even provides Telstar with a proper editing pen so that he can redline the whole damn page if he feels like: she won't be insulted, it's part of the process.
While he does that, she smokes. By far the most relaxed she's been in quite some time, a mental note is made to invest in keeping some of the good shit on her at all times.
But alas, serious conversation, even with the king of not taking anything too much on the chin, is inevitable, no matter how innocent the question. "I'm gonna track down my daughter."
...um, excuse me?
Daughter?
Did anyone even know Star had a kid prior to like...right now?
Just Judax.
And, if you could believe it, that was just the tip of the iceberg as far as all the shit people didn't know about Tsaria. Not because they didn't care, but because whether Blackout was long gone or not, Lux was still out there and keeping her mouth shut and folks in the dark was the only way she knew to keep Everi safe.
TELSTAR
Telstar considers himself better at creating static images to help his engineering. He can sketch a form, but for the movement and exciting layout of a comic, he lets Star go as far as they want. As long as Telstar has feet and a reasonable amount of pouches he likely has few to no editing requests.
Telstar feels a load off his shoulders from smoking along with her. He seems to run himself ragged, which is normally covered by his eminence front. No one knows how little he sleeps.
He doesn’t choke on his joint or gasp or fall over in shock, just a single eyebrow appears over his glasses. “…Need help?” he asks, already committing himself without a thought. He seems to understand—if he never got it before, Laurus being in his life made him get it. On second thought “Hell, you’re gettin’ help. Just tell me where to shoot.”
TSARIA
It wouldn't be too long after Telstar offered and Tsaria accepted his help that Crane contacted him via commlink about Laurus's disappearance. Tsaria understood, even more deeply now knowing that Telstar had taken up the helm of parenthood himself, and told him to go and find his own kid before worrying about hers. She'd also offer her assistance: maybe she has a contact--coughJudaxcough--who runs in the same high end/black market event circles that Andrei does. When Crane & Telstar narrow down that Laurus's bounty hasn't been cashed in, so it has to be something else, Exodus will make a few calls and see what turns up, ya dig?
TELSTAR
Telstar sobers up quick at the news, and looks almost sick afterward. Feeling somewhere between terror and homicidal rage, he hurries to collect all his instruments of violence before he hits the street. All his plans and art are left with Star.
“I’ll find her.” He promises to his bestie. “I’ll burn down the goddamn galaxy if I have to, but I’ll find her.” Telstar seethes. “But…Keep an ear on the ground. Be sending you a jingle in 24 hours if I don’t suss it out. Thanks Boss.”
He runs.
