MGS games lost their way when they stopped giving you a power point when someone starts monologuing
Music Nerd, Author, Yote!
- She/they/it
30s/white/tired/coyote/&
Words are my favorite stim toy
Anonymous User asked: Everyone asks very nicely if you could chomp the partially spent fuel inside three mile island and sort it out
Note: this ended up barely responding to the prompt at all, but upon researching how much fissile material is even left in Reactor 2 at Three Mile Island, there… …just isn't much? Katja might be able to make a chain reaction out of natural, un-enriched uranium, but they can't really do it with what amounts to moderately irradiated industrial wreckage with a bit of uranium seasoning!
Just above the lower edge of the stratosphere, Katja takes another look at the "map" in their mind, comparing it against their surroundings. They slowly turn themself over so as to fly upside down, giving all of their eyes a somewhat better view of the ground. Their "normal" eyes see striated hills giving way to the relative flatness of the Eastern Seaboard; Cassandra sees nothing of note; Edifice sees an overwhelming probability that nothing interesting will happen in the next several minutes; and Madness starts staring obsessively at what their other eyes interpret as a thin bar of grey in the middle of the Susquehanna River.
Capital City Approach, NOT A BIRD 0, five miles northwest of KCXY, flight level six zero five, you are not using runway 12/30 today, right?
NOT A BIRD 0, Capital City Approach, please could you repeat your altitude?
Flight level six zero five, NOT A BIRD 0.
The dragon rolls back onto their front, holding their head firmly in line with their direction of travel. Even the slightest glance to the side would be enough to mess with their aerodynamics to a troublesome degree, so they refrain from doing so. With a brief push from their tail, they kick themself into a more southerly heading. They press against the rushing air with their tail just a bit more, now heading directly south.
NOT A BIRD 0, Squawk 4423 and ident.
Squawk 4423, NOT A BIRD 0.
NOT A BIRD 0, you were wondering if we are using runway 12/30 today?
Yes, NOT A BIRD 0.
NOT A BIRD 0, we are not.
They roll themself a quarter-turn counterclockwise and promptly pull "up" on all of their control surfaces as firmly as their body can handle, turning their southward flight eastbound. Their heart, fighting hard to keep their blood flowing normally despite the immense acceleration forces on their body, speeds up to a brisk sixty beats per minute
NOT A BIRD 0, why do you ask?
Don't worry about it, nothing unusual is happening, NOT A BIRD 0.
Just as quickly as they started that turn, they pull out of it, taking a few seconds to relax. The frantic howling of their jet engines, made of a non-substance somewhere between pure math and pure magic, quiets down to an ear-shattering scream, and then to a sound not unlike the absolute highest notes one could torture out of a violin.
They check their map again, eyes darting around to correlate objects in their field of view with what they know should be in front of them.
Goddammit.
With some jarring pushing on their flaps, the searing red catdragon flips themself over upside down while sending themself into a nearly vertical dive. Their engines quiet down further until the rush of air over their generally un-aerodynamic body overtakes the engines' volume, gravity now giving them more than enough speed.
Harrisburg Approach, NOT A BIRD 0, two miles south of KMDT, flight level five eight five, just a heads up that I'm diving straight down to Three Mile Island from here. This is not an emergency. I do not need help. If anyone reports a small red and cyan object falling rapidly from the sky, that's me.
NOT A BIRD 0, Harrisburg Approach, excuse me?
Reactor's haunted, NOT A BIRD 0.
NOT A BIRD 0, you do know that it's illegal to do prank calls on—
Check the altitude on the transponder set to 4423, NOT A BIRD 0.
17 kilometres. Edifice glares at a 757 which is passing by underneath.
NOT A BIRD 0, that should be fine. I can't guarantee what kind of reception you'll receive when you land, though.
15.5. Madness looks curiously at what seems to be a gas station.
I've survived worse than whatever they can throw at me. NOT A BIRD 0.
14 kilometres. Cassandra looks forward along with Katja's "normal" eyes, expecting a fairly typical dive down to the ground.
COBALT 03, I'm not sure if you heard my earlier conversation or not, but I get the feeling you shouldn't try to take down NOT A BIRD 0, whatever it is.
12.5. With all of their "weird" eyes looking straight ahead, Katja's "normal" eyes jump over to the unmistakable outline of a few F-22s flying in formation. Madness notices some polyhedra midair which look like √(the affordance suggested by the appearance of a doorknob), and, based on that information,
It exploded into blue glass. It just. Exploded. COBALT 02.
COBALT 02, where?
There are shards of that blue glass in my canopy. COBALT 04.
A few hundred yards ahead of me, COBALT 02.
2 kilometres. Applying extreme mental effort toward holding precisely the right configuration of their wing geometry, and working hard to hold their tail in just the right place for their tailfins to do their job, the dragon bleeds off speed so quickly that they almost red out. Mach 0.9, 0.8, 0.7 —
The blue glass has melted, COBALT 04.
No need to be concerned about that, NOT A BIRD 0.
They conjure a vast array of hard light panels to slow their fall even more aggressively, quickly cutting their speed back into the tens of kilometres per hour. From here, they can see the front door of the long-disused nuclear power plant. A stiff breeze of friction-heated air passes over the drab expanse of concrete right outside the turbine building.
What the hell does that mean, COBALT 04.
The dragon then lands right on their feet, barely even having to jog for a few metres before they've offset what little remained of their momentum.
Nothing. Your plane has not been compromised. NOT A BIRD 0.
They immediately shake themself like a cat that's just gotten out of water, all the condensation on their fur getting thrown off in a small puff of fog. They then unbuckle a few buckles, letting the bags strapped onto them fall into a position where they can reach their contents. Given the size of their paws, they open a zipper up with the tip of one of their claws — and, with a single finger, lift a large camera out of the bag, basically tossing it into their opposing hand.
Hey, COBALT 0 one through five, just tell the nerds over at Langley that I'm doing some photography. If they ask, my flight technology was developed by the Principality of Andorra. Without any French, Vatican, or extraterrestrial assistance, specifically. NOT A BIRD 0.
With a quick flick of their free wrist, right at a spot where Madness sees a flat little square of (the colour where two different kinds of chromatic aberration meet)π(the word "unremarkable")², Katja snaps a tripod into existence. They pop it right open first, and then push it up against the base of their camera, giving a firm slap to one of the tripod's legs. It screws itself right in.
Are you trying to give us orders, NOT A BIRD 0? COBALT 01.
They flick the power switch on the camera and wait for the viewfinder to turn on. As soon as it does, their one paw, which was on top of the camera, melts just a bit. Some of the blue from their paw pad forces its way through what few gaps there are in the camera's construction. The viewfinder turns to black,
It's just career advice. NOT A BIRD 0.
and the camera becomes a ninth eye for the dragon.
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Advantages: if anyone insults your weight one way or another you can just blame the tail
forget the shoryuken, imagine how meaty a tatsu has to be with that huge slapper
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