1167/Sausages and Laws

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Sausages and Laws
Date of Scene: 27 June 2017
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: It really is best to never know how they're actually made. Especially when an alien makes them.
Cast of Characters: 342, 292




Panthro (342) has posed:
Humans are curious beasts. Earth-humans seem to be simultaneously ingenius and ignorant of their own technologies. For example, the Hyperloop Transit system, here, uses passive magnetic levitation of small passenger pods, circulating them quickly through a sealed tube system. Somehow they have solved the problems of air-pressure build-up in the tubes. Somehow, the pods move around without actual motors on-board. Somehow, they haven't filled up with graffiti, homeless people, gangs, drunks, or any of the other features of human mass transit that Panthro has found elsewhere.

"It's not as interesting as that box of digital watches I picked up at the flea market, but then I'm not aiming to take a pod and turn it into a scouter-slash-engine-disabling drone," the melanistic jaguar-man says, arms crossed in a way that stretches his 3XL human-tailored jacket.

"I do think we should have had something like this on Thundera though."

Lion-O (292) has posed:
"It's remarkably resourceful," Lion-O says with open admiration. "And strangely contradictory. We've managed to conquer long-distance spaceflight, and yet there are some things we've obviously missed. And yet, they're so far behind in their spaceflight technology. What do you make of it?"

The lion has learned to ignore most of the glances he gets. They are both unique-looking and clearly taken as mutants by the population. Unlike Panthro's tailored suit, the Lord of the Thundercats favors athletic gear because it is less restrictive. An underarmour top and sweatpants, both in his trademark blue. He does also have a messenger bag slung around his shoulders. The sword and the shield are sequestered within, because he has learned that bearing weapons in the open tends to make terrestrials nervous.

Panthro (342) has posed:
"Honestly? I think they remind me of the Plundarians, except that they're not so universally twisted. It's this whole 'money' fetish they have," Panthro says. He points to the various kiosks on the walls, and the turnstile system.

"Observe how many ways they have to induce one another to give away money, yet they need it to do everything so they demand it for almost any kind of labor or creative work, even if it's going to be used to the good of everyone."

This planet truly does not follow the Code of Thundera. This much was clear even as Panthro was watching their radio-wave broadcasts as he approached their comfortable little star system.

Lion-O (292) has posed:
"We clearly need to study more than just their technology. Perhaps our contacts with this 'Justice League' might help us find some sort of introductory courses to help us blend in better. And the language." Lion-O taps his translator, hanging from the armband. It almost looks like one of those music devices they use to exercise, so it is not terribly conspicuous. "I find it particularly difficult, all those open sounds." English is, by definition, not a language full of open vowels... but for growly cat-language, it is. "Once we have become more accustomed to their written word, we should visit their archives or places of learning."

He pauses and tilts his head. "They have those, right? It's not just a Thunderan thing?"

Panthro (342) has posed:
"I confess to wondering about their history," Panthro agrees. "And instead of burying their ancient dead and leaving them there with the ancient spirits, they go around digging them up and putting them on tour."

He points to a poster on one wall where the Treasures of Tut (including a giant papyrus reproduction) are advertised as "coming soon to Metropolis."

Lion-O (292) has posed:
"Now that -is- peculiar of them. Maybe we can find out more about this particular tendency. Do you think they perhaps do this to pacify the spirits? As means to, perhaps, let their deeds be known before burial?"

He waits for the image of the walking man before crossing the street. The first few times, it was something he didn't get- and he almost caused a pile-up. "I'm impressed by their entertainment, though. They prefer to have entertainment sent to them from other places. Perhaps they are't comfortable sitting together in a theater?" No, he has not found out about 'movies' yet, or terran theater. He is aware that a massive information network exists, but he hasn't been able to get on to it yet due to the language barrier. He gets the impression that, once he masters their written language, much should become clear to him.

Panthro (342) has posed:
Panthro smiles quietly to himself when Lion-O isn't looking. He's actually fairly competent in the human's primary writing system, and has used their information network, including a sort of massively distributed virtual flea market where humans lie about the value of their junk in order to sell it to other humans. Then again, Panthro's translator actually //works// because he loaded it with those hundreds of hours of broadcast things on the way in, and used the ship's computers to parse the information.

Then again, again. Panthro has the partially cyborg eye from his years as a soldier and spy, which allowed him to use the translator to change what he was looking at from one form of writing to another that he understands better. So he did learn faster. Perhaps that's cheating. Perhaps Lion-O should try reading things through the Eye of Thundera.

Just ... not off the humans' information network because so very much of it seems to be humans demonstrating reproductive strategies that simply cannot work, however entertaining they might be to the demonstrators.

Lion-O (292) has posed:
Lion-O looks at Panthro, accustomed to some of the silences that fall on him when he's deep in thought. He is about to say something when a growling interrupts him, and he puts a hand on his stomach. It has been a few hours. "Say, Panthro, did we bring any of that 'money' the kits made the other night? I'm feeling hungry and I'm curious aobut that 'hot dog' they were nattering on about the other day-"

A much more pronounced growling calls their attention, even muffled as it is by the messenger bag. There is no mistaking -that- sound:

"The sword of Omens."

He quickly reaches into the bag and extracts the dagger-sized sword, the catseye strip on the blade glowing a bright white.

He looks around quickly and holds the sword up to his face, the crossguard curling to accomodate his eyes. "Sword of omens, give me sight beyond sight!"

Panthro (342) has posed:
The fur on Panthro's neck has just begun to subside back down after the unnerving premonitory roar from the Sword of Thundera, with its amazing power to attract even MORE attention from the humans, who are still, for some unknown-to-Panthro reason, tolerating their presence here. (It's mostly that they've become blasé about alien refugees in this area. Superman, Supergirl, Martians, etc. )

Then Lion-O actually does the full activating sequence out loud in full voice ... the lad will never be a spy, good thing he's a king then ... and the Star of Thundera shows him a vision from a time not far past, when a spaceship landed badly and a swinicorn emerged - a Tabbut - and quickly cloaked himself as a portly human. The fellow is nearby and he is looking on the two Thunderans with the sort of greed that involves selling captive Thunderans to some sort of trader fellow with white hair and a supercilious expression to go with his failure to properly soul-patch.

"It's just Thunderian binoculars," Panthro says to the beige-uniformed man on the two-wheeled conveyance who has pulled alongside them where they stand near the crosswalk; the human is clearly one of the Terran versions of their Space-Cop friend Mandora.

Lion-O (292) has posed:
Realizing the attention the sword is bringing, Lion-O quickly stashes it away in his bag- though not for long, he guesses, as he steps up to Panthro. He taps his 'Eye Pod' to turn off his translator and says to his friend in untranslated Thunderian:

"Tabbut. Don't let on you've seen him, but he's got white head-fur and is disguised like a human. I think he's made us as his mark."

The king, trying to talk 'streetwise' Thunderian. It's about as convincing as when he used to slither off in his cloak to the marketplace. "We let him tail us to somewhere less crowded?" Lion-O whispers. For all purposes he looks like he's talking casually with Panthro- at least he is not that bad of an actor. Mostly.

Panthro (342) has posed:
Panthro still has his translator engaged when the policeman suggests that they move onward to prevent a crowd from forming, and he agrees in a pleasant voice. He says to Lion-O in his jaguar-inflected Thunderian, "He has to have noticed that you had the Sword of Omens in Eye-Of-Thundera configuration. I'm going to guess that's why he's moving that ... wait, why does he have a hot-dog cart? Isn't that some cousin to cannibalism?"

The man at the hot-dog cart is now pushing it toward the two Thunderans, slightly faster than is safe, and ignoring the protests of the humans who wish to purchase a serving of food poisoning from him.

"Oh blunted claws and singed whiskers of the ancient forefathers," Panthro swears -- it's the more florid version of 'whiskers!' and he draws his cat's-paws from their secret pocket in his jacket.

Lion-O (292) has posed:
Panthro has said everything he would have said- although not in such a colorful manner. The lion takes several quick steps at an angle from Panhtro in order to get a better approach. His hand slides into the messenger bag once more, but not to grab the sword. Instead, his first slides cleanly into the shield, ready to draw it to intercept whatever attack is thrown his way from the approaching cart. Panthro, of course, knows what he's doing.

Panthro (342) has posed:
//What are you doing?!?// Panthro says to himself. //This is Earth, they don't like it when people fight in their streets!//

Nevertheless, as the hot-dog cart approaches, and a dangerously-glowing capture-net erupts out towards each of the Thunderans, Panthro swings his claws; the left one pops open to spray an arc of ball-bearings in front of the oncoming juggernaut of a Tabbut, while the right one sprays an arc of flames directly in line with the capture-net that's aimed at him; he figures Lion-O will deal with something as simple as an energy-charged web without any problems.

Fortunately, the Tabbut has outpaced most of the humans who were near, and no humans are crowded where the Thunderians are standing at the moment.

Lion-O (292) has posed:
Lion-O jumps and lets his momentum roll him away from the path of the energy net. Shield in hand, he quickly gets to his feet to draw the Sword of Omens, but then hesitates. He could fire an energy beam from it to destroy the cart- but he doesn't know what else is inside it, and how far an explosion might reach. There are bystanders to consider.

He sheathes the sword in the claw shield and quickly fart away to one of those heavy wrought-iron trash dispensers he had seen before. He lifts it- and it's heavy, but no match for his strength, and throws it towards the incoming cart. "This should make you feel a little like home!" he says, as the receptacle hits the ground with a loud *clang* and starts rolling towards the cart, leaving a trail of garbage in its wake.

Panthro (342) has posed:
Perhaps as expected, the hot-dog cart detects the mass of the incoming object while the owner of said cart suddenly finds his feet going out from under him and he hits the ground face-down. A *krak* suggests that his disguise-device has broken, supported by the fact that it begins flickering on and off, revealing to some extent what a classic example of the Tabbut people the cart-owner is.

"Hey he's selling hot dogs, isn't that like, cannibalism?" asks a young man with a hipster beard and vest ironically worn over a short-sleeved white tee-shirt.

"I asked the same question," Panthro says, "but I bet it isn't because he's not from this Earth."

The hotdog cart responds to the incoming mass without the guidance of the Tabbut, and so it opens its capture-cage, legs and arms reaching out to draw in the incoming Honeychild, and is suddenly filled up and wedged full of the wrougth-iron trash disposal. The hotdogs from the cart smell //bad// as they get closer. They're made, not with either of the terrestrial mammals that resemble Tabbuts. No, they're made of Soya Protein Material.

Lion-O (292) has posed:
"Augh!" Lion-O covers his mouth and nose as the smell draws nearer. "What foul thing is this?" that was completely unappetizing. Was this the 'hot dog' taste the twins were going on about? If so, he was going to have a long talk with them about what exactly they put in their mouths. The scent made Tygra's stews seem appetizing. "Everybody out of the way!" Lion-O shouts as he draws the Sword of Omens and directs the blade towards the cart. "HO!"

A light-blue beam shoots from it... why hadn't he thought of it earlier? Better to freeze it than to try to blow it up- "Panthro, the chef is all yours while I try to tame his condiment cart of terror."

Panthro (342) has posed:
A cold-blast! Just the thing! Panthro was thinking along the same lines, as he snaps his second Cat'sClaw around, spinning it on the rope joining it to its other half, and a jet of ice freezes the pants-seat of the Tabbut to the concrete and brick of the pavement and sidewalk.

Panthro reaches past the flickering illusion to switch OFF the disguise device, his first Cat'sClaw still spinning with a threatening whirr.

"Are you just terribly unlucky, or did you come hoping to find us?" Panthro demands.

There's a Bwoop!BooooWOoop! from not far away as the man on the two-wheeled conveyance approaches, talking into some sort of a black pod attached to the conveyance by a cord or string.

"You know they'll probably probe you before they dissect you," Panthro observes, still speaking in the galactic patois. "Humans are all about the probing."

Lion-O (292) has posed:
And once the cart is frozen, the lord of the Thundercats walks up to it and slashes the sword downward on it, to cause further damage and drive his point. "And afterwards, you will likely end as filling for these hot-dogs you were selling. Of course," He says, resting the sword against one of the cold remains of the cart, "You could always talk..."

Panthro (342) has posed:
The cart, falling it two pieces, reveals that there is a Taburian Dimensional Bender (now bisected) inside; this is a biomechanism that would have allowed the Tabbut to shrink down the Thundercats to action-figure size for ease of transport and later sale. There are four humans wrapped in the glossy transparent stasis-cling, and the mecha-guts of the D-Bender are foaming out, expanding as they unfold from their fourth-dimensional twist.

The Tabbut says, "Go suck an ancient spirit," and then clams up, even when the policeman sees the completely NOT-hot-dog-related insides of the cart. His radio squacks at him.

//"Hold the culprit for now. SWORD is sending a deportation crew."

"They're still alive," Panthro says to whoever is listening, as he examines the humans in their suspension. "They'll return to normal size once you get them out of the stasis wrappers, but the wrappers have to be opened with a sonic scissor. Otherwise you might nick the contents and it's //messy// returning to full size when the injury grows along with the rest of the body."

Lion-O (292) has posed:
"We should have some at the lair. Or if not, Panthro here can fashion one in a pinch," Lion-O says to the policeman, and then points his sword at the Tabbut, "I can stay here and help you keep custody of this blackguard until he is ready to be carried away." He gives the criminal a fierce look, almost daring him to try and escape. "And with Panthro's tools, we should be able to rescue his captives."

For a moment, Lion-O considers shrinking the Tabbut into figure-size for easy transport (and some poetic justice), but the damage to the mechanism is done. A pity.

Panthro (342) has posed:
"Who is SWORD?" Panthro asks, though he suspects he knows the answer. The policeman either has no clue, or isn't going to tell the cat-aliens that SWORD is the humans' space-alien-immigration bureau. Either way, only the Tabbut answers.

"They're the people who are going to kick your furry butts off their planet," he says, "and it serves you all right."

"Hey, you're the one who attacked US," Panthro says.

"You would've attacked me. Besides, you're worth a lot of Galactic Units," the Tabbut answers. It's in Galactic, but Panthro's translator is providing a play-by-play for the cop, who is listening with great interest.

"Nah. We only knew you were here when you started planning to grab us, and you know why. Even then, if you hadn't attacked, we would've just said 'Hi' and bought a couple hot dogs. Or not. There's no meat in those things you're selling."

The cop looks at the cart. Nothing there about vegetarian or tofudogs or whatever. "We're adding fraudulent sale of adulterated foods and misrepresentation to the charges," he notes. "You can't just make tofu into hot dogs and not warn anyone."