Yours Is No Disgrace[OPEN]

[Kuu [32]]

"...So is there any way you could fix it?" then asked the ragdoll stranger to the other ragdoll standing in the doorway. The other ragdoll had his arms crossed as he heard the description of what the stranger asked him to repair. His eyes scanned the stranger with an expression of suspicion at first; eyelids narrowed. Then the frown on the listening ragdoll's face flattened, and his lower eyelids relaxed.
"Nope," he replied before shutting the door to the room in the stranger's face.
"WAIT! I was told you're one of the BEST tinkerers in the Cathedral!" the stranger shouted through the door. "You really couldn't just help me out this one time!?"
At this, the ragdoll within his room once again narrowed his eyelids for a moment, this time in frustration. He then opened the door, returning the flat expression on his face yet pointing a finger in the air.
"First. I don't do charity. And second. I'm a Private Eye. I'm no one's grease-monkey." the ragdoll stated to try and get rid of the bothersome stranger.
"U-uh. Oh. Well, I wasn't going to ask you to fix it without something in return. What would you say your-"
"Price? I 'tinker' for my personal benefit. I'm sure you could understand why a Private Eye has no need for side businesses, unless they're desprate. Do I look desperate to you?"
"I-I'm sorry. No. But, hear me out! This is important to me-"
"No need to explain it."
"But-"
"Because it's written all over you! Your knees and hands slightly shaking. That particular longing expression on your face and in your tone. Clearly, this device is meant as a love gift to someone. Someone who no doubt tied that pink lace string around your hand."
The stranger gripped his hand over the string in question, feeling self conscious about it now. And if the stitchpunk creature had a circulatory system and skin, there would be a flush of red on his face over the thoughts that stirred over the simple string around his wrist.
"I'd love to help. But as it stands, I'm busy at the moment. So, if you don't mind!" then the door once again shut on the stranger before he could say anything further to the other ragdoll's face. He gave up, though and his head and shoulders slumped as he turned to slowly walk away. Within his housing, the ragdoll made a flat smile of satisfaction and glanced at a frame that held a piece of parchment on display. The words on the top of the parchment read,

'Certificate of License
Private Investigator
#32 Kuu'

Yet, now the ragdoll's eyelids suddenly opened full as a memory was sparked in his head of a voice speaking to him through a makeshift audio player.
"*~*She meant the world to me. How am I supposed to let her know that with all of this... happening so fast...? So little time...*~*"
After the memory lapse passed, the look on the ragdoll's face became troubled... then turned to depressed as he lifted a hand over his eyes.
The stranger had gotten about a couple feet from the closed door, and didn't even notice the door open nor the remorseful look the Private Eye/Tinkerer made in his direction.
"Hold on!" cried out the investigator. The stranger stopped and turned with an expression of renewed, yet doubtful hope. "*sigh*... Just deliver it to my door. It will be fixed up by sunrise tomorrow morning."
"Th-Thank you! I'll make sure to pay you well!" the gracious stranger said, now hardly able to contain excitement that instantly welled within his soul and body.
"Just make sure to pick the thing up first thing! I don't need any eyesores in front of my room for anybody to start giving me odd glances about!"
The stranger was too wrapped up in excitement to give another reply. He walked to his own home with a bounce in his step, and his arms raised in the air for a moment. The investigator let loose a sigh, and shook his head before retreating once more to his personal sanctum. He flopped onto the bed in the corner, and shut his eyes, wincing uncomfortably as then the whole memory of the tragic message he uncovered then played back through his mind in its entirety.



A knock then came on the door, which only slightly broke the ragdoll from his subconscious' trip down Memory Lane. Anger showed in the investigator's eyes, as he got himself up from the bed. Instead of opening the door first this time, he opened a panel beside it on the wall and peered through the small hole at who ever it was who decided to trouble him next.
"Ahhghh! Go away! My office is closed for the rest of the afternoon... and evening, for that matter!" the ragdoll shouted to the other outside the door, as he didn't recognize the stictchpunk being standing on the other side of it.

[Abbot [43]]

Abbot's long thin legs carried his tired, stiff body through the Cathedral. He was old. As a human he'd been 52 and he'd lived as a stitchpunk for 6 years now, making him 58. And he looked every second of it. While his back stood tall, his shoulder slumped forward, his eyes and face were tired looking. His dark, muted purple body was covered in many scars - constant reminders of his past. His left leg had a bandage wrapped around it, to keep a fracture from causing further wreckage to his already fragile leg. The black vest he wore bore a large oil stain on his left side - left overs from one of his past victims. Though he currently lived a fairly peaceful life, teaching those who sought him out how to fight, it was obvious that his past was none too peaceful.

His bladed toes dug into the dirt that had scattered itself over and between the stones of the cathedral floor as he stopped and watched the world around him. There were shops and homes all over the place. There seemed to be quite a crowd around the shops. He wondered if there would be a vendor that could do a job for him.

He looked down at his hands, his long bladed fingers had grown dull and needed a quick sharpening. Unfortunately, it was difficult for him to do himself. Though he rarely fought, he did travel a lot between the cathedral and the Mark's territory. They were long, dangerous trips and he needed his only weapons handy just in case he got attacked.

As he began to shift his weight, and took a step toward the shops, the sound of shouting caught his attention. He turned his head in time to see two stitchpunks conversing. So the one in the house is a tinkerer... perhaps he could do this for me? he thought to himself. When the other stitchpunk had left, obviously happy and the tinkerer had slammed his door, Abbot made his way to the house. His long legs gave him a sweeping stride, his bladed toes spreading and scrapping on the stone with each step he took.

When he reached the door, he folded his claws into the best fist he could make and knocked on the door. He heard footsteps come toward the door along with the sound of something sliding.

"Ahhghh! Go away! My office is closed for the rest of the afternoon... and evening, for that matter!" he heard shouted at him from the inside. Abbot's 9 inches of height moved slightly with a sigh.

"I have a favor to ask, sir. It will only take a minute of your time." he said, his voice quiet and calm. His age showed more in his voice than his body. It was deep and tired. It sounded like all he really wanted was to just lay down somewhere and rest. Of course, that wasn't why he was here.

[Kuu [32]]

A favor to ask... sir?

The investigator was trying to put his probing perception to rest, yet now he was actually interested in what this 'favor' was, since it was an elder stitchpunk asking. So politely, none the less. Being as relatively young as he was personally, the tinkering Private Eye actually took a quiet liking to the stories that could come from the older, more experienced ragdolls. Another thing about the older ones is that they usually had more accumulated wealth. Suddenly, taking on a new case seemed to be a decent idea as the shining opportunity arose. Of course, the young ragdoll assumed it was another troubling mystery that the older one was knocking on his door about.
The door opened, exposing the young stitchpunk with dark grey polyester covering his whole body excluding his copper arms, and plastic black threads over his head serving as hair. Immediately, all of the older stitchpunk's scars and blemishes sang a tune of trouble and woe to the investigator. While he had half a mind to just shut the door and ignore the tallest stitchpunk he's seen in his life until he left him alone, the youngster swallowed his pride and kept a poker-face as he initiated the official business arrangement.
"Alright, old timer. You talked me into it. Kuu, Private Invesigator extraordinaire. At your service," he said with a gentle smile. "So, what's the case? Any children of yours I need to find? A past lover? Or did you almost get taken out by something other than a machine and you need me to snoop around to figure out who dun it and why?"
Kuu was basically just running through some random guesses. The last one was his actual guess from what he gathered at the sight of the battle damage being possible signs of struggle. Yet after a quick scan over the "old timer's" body once more, the super-sleuth made a more accurate deduction.
"You do look like you've seen plenty of action while wandering between the Cathedral and, heh, where ever else you decide to take long walks to. Nothing that a medic would suggest you do on that gimp leg of yours. Aluminum, eh? Not easy to fracture that material. So I assume you went toe to toe with something huge and terrifying, or several of them? Yet, that was a while ago taking all that natural wear and tear into account..."
Kuu slightly paused for effect. He gazed eye to eye with the tall one intently as he concluded his deduction.
"Of course, I do hope you haven't knocked on my door because you want me to deduce whether or not you're coming down with the brittles. As what I'd give you is a medical opinion, and I'm sure there are professional medics available to give those, albeit not always at the best price."

[Abbot [43]]

Abbot waited patiently while the younger stitchpunk spoke. A glimmer of amusement twinkled in his eyes as he listened. So this young one was an investigator, hm? Maybe he could hire him for more than just sharpening claws after all.

"Abbot. My name is Abbot. It's a pleasure to meet you, Kuu." he said with a soft, raspy chuckle. "Those eyes of yours are pretty sharp. And with a sharp mind to go with them, it's no wonder you've become an investigator. You are almost completely correct." He paused to shift his weight off of his gimpy leg.

He held up a hand, and unfolded his fingers one after the other as he listed off his points. "I did face a large machine, though that was at least a year ago. I am indeed looking for someone, though that wasn't my intention for knocking upon your door. Nor was my intention to have to check me for the brittles. My skeleton structure is indeed made of aluminum and I do walk quite a bit."

He wasn't used to talking so much and had to pause for rest. His eyes bore into Kuu's eyes, meeting his gaze evenly. Had Kuu met him even a year earlier, Abbot's gaze would not be that of a tired old man, but of a blood-thirsty killer. He would have broken the door down and attacked Kuu, ransacking his home versus his current ways of politely knocking on the door and waiting to be invited inside. Such a difference meeting her had made. Her... he thought, his eyes growing distance for a second as her face drifted into his mind. He'd never gotten a chance to thank her for what she'd done for him, and he'd never even learned her name. He shook his head and came back to reality. "I was wondering if you could simply sharpen my claws. They are my only weapons and they have grown dull." he told the younger stitch. His bladed hands fell to his side, his bladed toes digging into the dirt in front of Kuu's home to keep his balance.

[Kuu [32]]

"Oh. So it's tinkering you want as well," Kuu replied with notable disappointment in his voice. He almost made to rudely close the door, and gave the thought of ignoring Abbot more consideration. The other thought of getting a possible case proposal from the old timer stayed the investigator though. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to just sharpen some old claws."
Then Kuu stepped to the side, and opened the door wide.
"Come on in, then. I'm sure I've got a file somewhere in my tool kit I could just let you borrow."
As soon as the other stitchpunk was in the housing, Kuu shut the front door, pulled out the desk chair for Abbot, and then approached his tool kit. He opened it delicately, then looked over his shoulder.
"If you have something to pay me with, I could take you to the repair shop just through the back door here and fire up the sander," he offered the elderstitch, pausing before he rummaged through the tool kit for the simple and cheep file that it contained. A little doubt rose in the youngster as far as whether or not Abbot had any wealth. If he did, it couldn't be much as it wouldn't add up with a wealthy gentlestitch walking around with such impairments. Then again, perhaps the scars and everything was a sign of pride for the old timer? Either way, Kuu's conscience was leaning his intention to go with the sander regardless of payment... or lack there of.

[Abbot [43]]

"Thank you very much." he said, stepping inside. His joints creaked slightly as he sat himself in the chair. His bladed fingers and feet glistened in the light, giving off a dangerous vibe, despite how dirty and dull they were. Dried oil had latched onto his joints and if you looked closely where each joint in his digits met together, you would see the dried, dark substance.

"Unfortunately, I don't currently have anything to pay you with. The only thing I have to offer you is stories and another job. I would offer you assistance, but I couldn't do enough to repay you." he sighed lightly, greatly enjoying the comfort of the chair. "I understand if you do not wish to help." he said.

His optics whirred shut before clicking open again and swiveling to land on Kuu's form. None of the teaching he did brought him any gain, and he spent most of his time traveling about. He'd never really needed a way to pay for anything. He did, deep down, wish he could pay this young lad. He wanted so desperately to find the she-stitch from his past. He had no romantic interest in her, but that fact that he'd never thanked her weighed heavy on his conscience.

As he waited for Kuu's response, he let his eyes wander slowly around the sitchpunk's abode. A nice little place he has here.

[Kuu [32]]

Another job?

Kuu was getting what he wanted, in a sense. Stories could come from any old timer, as far as 32 was concerned. Yet, perhaps Abbot would recall this tale of the machine that made his leg gimp?
"Hmmmm. Alright, then," Kuu agreed, only feigning a slight pause for thought as his mind was already made up. Gently he closed the tool kit, and approached the door to the back room. The elderstitch looked so comfortable in the chair that Kuu felt bad about suddenly getting him out of it. "Right this way. Shouldn't take me more than five minutes or so."
He then opened the door, and left it ajar as he entered and flipped a switch to turn on the Jerry-rigged lights. They were Christmas lights originally, yet they made the perfect house lights after some good placement and a well enough supply of batteries to keep them lit long enough for Kuu to finish working in the room. Within the shop was a few desks, each with countless ragdoll sized tools and equipment perfect for making just about anything one could think of.
"Excuse the mess. I've been meaning to better organize everything in here," said 32 while he cleared a pathway to the back left corner where there was a ragdoll sized peddle operated sander. He then removed a package of small rivets from the base of the sander, and then placed his copper foot onto the petal. A few downward motions forced the finely rounded stone in the mechanism to rotate speedily. Then with a steady rhythm of stomps on the peddle, the stone increased it's spin velocity until it was ready for use on Abbots old aluminum fingers.

[Abbot [43]]

Abbot pushed himself stuffy from the comfort of the chair, bracing himself with one foot planted further behind him as he rose to a standing position. He watched Kuu's beckoning hand in surprise before walking toward him. "Thank you, young one." he said, greatfully.

His toes gathered together as he lifted his foot, the points of their blades touching lightly, only to spread apart with a scraping sound as he planted his weight back onto the ground. He turned his head side to side, examining the room as he followed the path the younger stitch cleared for him.

As he stood, waiting for Kuu to get the wheel started, he examined it closely. He hadn't seen the tools of a tinkerer in ages and he's always found them fascinating. He'd have considered becoming a tinkerer himself it weren't for his violent upbringing or the fact that his hands and fingers would in no way allow him to do a good job. When Kuu seemed to be ready, Abbot crouched down and let himself relax. He held a dulled hand out to Kuu to tend to. He would simply let the other stitchpunk move and manipulate his hand and fingers as needed.

"Is there anything I can do to repay you, Kuu?" he asked, raising his other hand to push his loose optic back into his rightful position, his other eye trained unwaveringly on Kuu's.

[Kuu [32]]

Kuu grabbed the clawed hand a little gruffly and carelessly it may have seemed, yet he was very much delicate with how he forced the fingers against the sharpening stone. The question posed by Abbot remained unanswered until Kuu had finished the first two fingers on his hands in returning their blades to deadly sharpness against the grinder.
"Well... I do accept favors as payment, from time to time," was his final reply as he lined up and began grinding on the next finger. "For you? I'd say "another job" peeked my interest. But, the stories would do well enough for now."
Kuu switched his glance to and from the grinder to Abbot as he continued the work. As he finished the third finger and lined up the fourth, he focused intently on Abbot with his eyes.
"If you tell me where it is you wander off to outside the Cathedral and why, I could throw in making a facet to hold that stubborn optic in place," he said with a casual smile, before returning his full focus on the grinding.

[Abbot [43]]

Abbot chuckled a bit when he heard Kuu's question. Of course he'd chosen pretty much the only story Abbot couldn't tell. "I don't mind the optic much, we can save it for another day. However, interesting that that's the story you chose to hear." he told him.

He watched silently for a moment as his fingers went under the grinder. He let his hand remain limp, trusting Kuu to know what he was doing. "Unfortunately I can't say on the topic other than I travel to my home. I don't live here in the Cathedral." He told the other.

He felt kind of bad. This was all Kuu had asked for in return for doing this favor for Abbot, and all Abbot could give him was a measly sentence. But he'd rather hold a bit on guilt under his belt than have The Mark's assassins coming after him. When he was younger he wouldn't have minded, he probably could have held his own against one of them. Now, however, he'd be dead meat so to speak.

"Is there anything else you'd like to hear?"

[Kuu [32]]

"Another day," Kuu repeated softly soon after Abbot said so himself. Needless to say, the Private Eye could tell it was a sensitive subject of conversation before the old stitchpunk even hinted that it was. So he could also easily tell Abbot's abode was not in Savior territory. Rather than press the issue, Kuu kept vigilant on the grinding until the entire first hand was done. He then quickly grabbed a toothpick that was arbitrarily sitting up against the wall nearby, and then he swung it against Abbot's freshly sharpened fingers. The piece of wood was cut cleanly by each each finger with one solid swipe.
"Heh-heyyyy," Kuu let out with a grin of satisfaction. "Anyway. How about filling me in on the battles you've seen so far? Don't really care about the order at all. Just tell me at your leisure," he said to finally answer the last question, allowing Abbot to give him the other hand to continue the job.

[Abbot [43]]

Abbot quietly watched as Kuu admired and tested his work with a toothpick. Abbot was also quite happy with the results. "It's been a long time since they were this sharp...." he said quietly, mostly to himself, allowing Kuu to begin work on his other hand.

His eyes gazed at Kuu for a moment. His stories of battle were not glorious. He had committed terrible crimes and - until very recently - had fought for all the wrong reasons. But he had no true reason to keep this information from Kuu. And he did need to pay the poor fellow somehow for all the trouble he was going through to help and old, broken down stitch.

"Battle stories, eh?" He sighed. Please don't think ill of me, Kuu.

"I will tell you of my last battle as a rogue, just about a year ago. I was venturing home after a mugging, my treasure in my arms, when a machine attacked me.I had leaped at me from behind a trash pile and I had become too cocky and let my guard down.

It pinned me, knocking my treasure from me and aimed a swipe at my chest. I managed to escape its grasp just before the hit landed.Then I ran, trying to gain enough distance between myself and the beast to regroup and prepare myself for a better attack. But I wasn't fast enough.

The beast was on my heels the entire time, swiping at me as it chased me through the maze of rubble. It landed many blows, as you can see." He said, motioning with his freshly sharpened hand to the many scars over his body.

"After a while, I began to tire. I'd never met a foe I could not outrun - I'm built for speed more than anything, as I'm sure you can guess. It eventually caught up with me enough that it could snap its jaws at me, catching my leg in its jaws. I fought desperately, putting quite a few scratches and holes in it's head and neck before it released me. But not without price. My leg had been fractured and when the beast threw me away, I hit a rock. The impact knocked my optic loose.

As I began to slip from consciousness, my body broken and mangled with not way for me to try and move myself, I saw a shadow jump in front of me and engage the beast just as my world went black." His eyse got a far away look in them as he remembered. It was her. She'd fought off the skull beast and healed his wounds. His mind had taken a very haunting trip down memory lane.

[543]

Elsewhere in the Cathedral, copper optics opened, clicking a little as the doll attached to them sat up on the nest of a bed she had fallen asleep on, an expression of bemusement crossing her face. What was the time? Why was there a foreign object in her hand? How long had she been asleep for? Wait, go back to that other one. Foreign object? Lifting the object up to examine it closer, she identified it as a tinkerer’s tool, a file for shaping and sharpening metal. It definitely wasn’t hers.

“Not again,” she muttered, her hand meeting her forehead in an iconic image of exasperation. Since her trips outside of the Cathedral in search of supplies had become limited, her habit of stealing unattended objects from her neighbours had also begun to get out of hand. Examining the tool more closely (and deciding she wouldn’t mind one of her own), she queried aloud: “Okay, backtrack, retrace: where did you find it?” Unfortunately her habit of stealing was accompanied by a habit of returning to her den and immediately falling asleep, which could make her memory of the event hazy, and as only Cathedral-coloured clouds appeared in her mind's eye, she sighed.

“I was walking,” she murmured, closing her optics and trying to visualise it, tapping the side of her head lightly with the tool. Walking where? Walking past a number of other homes in the building, she believed, when another stitchpunk left his own abode suddenly, accompanied by a significantly more frightened looking doll. In their rush to leave they failed to properly close the door, and… ah, yes. It was sitting plainly in the thin glow created by the open door, light drawing patterns along its rough surface. A well-used, well-loved piece of equipment, possibly recently required for a job since it had been left out in the open, and... well, she had to have it.

Groans heaved out of her voicebox. “Why?!” Standing up with an almost theatrically exaggerated movement and heading for the door, she stopped for a moment at the exit to cast her gaze over at the rapidly depleting pile of usable items in the corner, and the even smaller pile of equipment made from usable items beside it. Her head shook lightly before she announced “Something has to change!” and flung her door open, slamming it behind her and trotting speedily towards the room in her memory.

As she travelled she pieced together more information in her head to help her find her way, and this included a better mental image of the tenant of the home she broke into. It was the investigator, that private eye character, and given his mystery-solving prowess she wondered why she hadn’t already been tracked down for her crime. It didn’t matter: he wouldn’t need to track her down if she appeared willingly in his doorway. However she couldn’t shake the imaginative thought that he had already noticed his loss, traced it back to her, and sent a group of assassins in her direction to retrieve the lost tool, so with this in mind she soon broke into a rather inelegant sprint.

When she came to a halt outside the investigator’s home, she immediately noticed that there was a strange noise somewhere behind the door. The sound of metal on another material, maybe stone, that was all she could deduce. Of course she had to turn up uninvited when he was already preoccupied, but that wasn't going to stop her. To ensure she would be heard over such a noise, she knocked firmly a few times, and called through the door, “Hello!” before taking a small step away from the door and waiting patiently, her hands clasped behind her back with the borrowed tool held firmly between her fingers.

[Kuu [32]]

As Abbot recalled his nearly completely tragic story, Kuu kept an attentive receptor to him as he managed to finish grinding three fingers of the other hand. After the elder finished, the youth nodded respectfully.
"Hmh. Quite a good story, if I may say. No doubt a turning point in your life, eh? I suppose-"

A knock suddenly could be faintly heard on the outer door, over the grindstone as Kuu was just about to put the fourth finger to it. The knocking was then followed by a "hello" from a voice he thought sounded... vaguely familiar... just badly timed. He just put Abbot's finger against the grinder, and continued without giving any further sign of noticing the other stranger now outside the front door.
"I suppose you never found out what that shadow was? Or, at least never ran into... her(?) ever since."
After prodding as he did, Kuu gave a side glance to the elder. The tone in his voice was indication that it really was just a guess as far as gender, yet something about Abbot's choice of words and signs of partial reluctance to recall the tale sang it to him a little bit.

[Abbot [43]]

Abbot let his opticals click closed for a moment, his memory board whirring. He'd spent so much time trying to repress these memories, it was such a strange experience for him to be intentionally bringing them to light. He watched the sparks fly from his fingers as he answered.

"I woke soon enough to see that my savior had been a female stitchpunk. However, I wasn't able to learn her name or thank her and I've never seen her again since that day." Sadness and guilt crept into his voice. He was atoning for his murderous past by teaching others to defend themselves so they wouldn't fall victim to muggers and murderers like he used to be. However, a heavy guilt always rode on his mechanical heart that he'd never said a proper thank you to the female that had saved him. "That was that other job I was talking about, in case you were curious." he said. He didn't expect Kuu to hold any more interest in it at the moment than that, but he didn't feel a need to keep it from him.

A knock sounded on the door and when it became apparent Kuu was going to make no move for it, he began to wonder if he'd heard it or not. "Someone is knocking at your door." he stated calmly, his tired optics flickering over Kuu, the sparks from his claws dancing as reflections on his optics.