I.)[Arrival] [Flug had long ago accepted that Life simply had it out for him. That was fine. In turn he made up for the astronomical amount of bad luck he seemed to garner by unleashing inventions of untold evil across the multiverse through the impossibly powerful eldritch entity that was his boss. Not the fairest of trades, but gratifying nonetheless.
What he was less fine with, however, was the fact this entire group of men appeared to share the Life's sentiments despite Flug never having met them before this very moment!]
"You're one of them aren't you?" [The owner of the gun whispered. The scientist stilled, the griminess of his soaked bag discomforting, but not so uncomfortable that he would remove it in front of them. His protests hardly deter their interrogation.]
"If you aren't one of them, why not lift that bag of yours?" "Yeah, show us your face!" "Why, whatcha hidin? Teeth? Red eyes? Some SCALES?!" "Show us!!"
"No! No, I-I um, just don't exactly feel comfortaaa--AAH!"
[Flug whimpers as the gun nudges at him more insistently.]
"Look. If-if I could, just, be on my way? I really really need to.. get back to work."
[And getting shot will be the least of his worries if he doesn't report to Black Hat NOW.]
II.)[New beginnings] [Flug nervously shifts from one foot to the other at the doorway of one of the town's more sizable buildings. Adjusting to this place has been a chore but if he is ever going to gain enough funds to chart a way home, he is going to need to find work-- or at the very least space to conduct his research to MAKE one himself. Thus, door to door hunting for accomodations has begun.]
"Ah, hello there, a moment of your time? Greetings, I'm Doctor Flug, inventor and head Scientist of Bl-- well, let's just stick with the inventing bit. It occurs to me, for all the businesses we have around here, that most appear to still be still geared toward our more human halves, well I'm proposing we change that. Marketing 'monstrous' products is a huge business opportunity! A shift to focusing more on 'Creature comforts', you might say?"
[Haha...ha...Ehem.]
"It's hard enough to wake up in a foreign town with no recollection of how you arrived there, but doing so while dealing with unexpected changes in limb count, bodily disposition, height and weight requires many unexpected solutions. That's where I come in! See, a great deal of clients from my forme-- from my job were of the.. less human variety, so I am very experienced with bizarre needs! For instance, I once had a client develop an extra mouth on her torso. After extensive research, I concluded the saliva from the secondary oral cavity was much more acidic, due to its proximity to the stomach, so in response I CREATED: a stronger toothpaste! B-Because... dental hygiene is.. important? Um."
[Ta dah??? Yeah no, that was terrible, excuse him while he begins digging for more in his briefcase, muttering pleas to wait. Several other sheets of scribbled ideas include what can only be described as a highly advanced ray gun, detailing housing alterations for slimes and harpys and a hasty sketch of a werewolf boasting some freshly untorn pants labeled "Under-arooos." Hopefully he is at the correct building this time.]
Dr. Flug Slys | Villainous
[Flug had long ago accepted that Life simply had it out for him. That was fine. In turn he made up for the astronomical amount of bad luck he seemed to garner by unleashing inventions of untold evil across the multiverse through the impossibly powerful eldritch entity that was his boss. Not the fairest of trades, but gratifying nonetheless.
What he was less fine with, however, was the fact this entire group of men appeared to share the Life's sentiments despite Flug never having met them before this very moment!]
"You're one of them aren't you?" [The owner of the gun whispered. The scientist stilled, the griminess of his soaked bag discomforting, but not so uncomfortable that he would remove it in front of them. His protests hardly deter their interrogation.]
"If you aren't one of them, why not lift that bag of yours?" "Yeah, show us your face!" "Why, whatcha hidin? Teeth? Red eyes? Some SCALES?!" "Show us!!"
"No! No, I-I um, just don't exactly feel comfortaaa--AAH!"
[Flug whimpers as the gun nudges at him more insistently.]
"Look. If-if I could, just, be on my way? I really really need to.. get back to work."
[And getting shot will be the least of his worries if he doesn't report to Black Hat NOW.]
II.)[New beginnings]
[Flug nervously shifts from one foot to the other at the doorway of one of the town's more sizable buildings. Adjusting to this place has been a chore but if he is ever going to gain enough funds to chart a way home, he is going to need to find work-- or at the very least space to conduct his research to MAKE one himself. Thus, door to door hunting for accomodations has begun.]
"Ah, hello there, a moment of your time? Greetings, I'm Doctor Flug, inventor and head Scientist of Bl-- well, let's just stick with the inventing bit. It occurs to me, for all the businesses we have around here, that most appear to still be still geared toward our more human halves, well I'm proposing we change that. Marketing 'monstrous' products is a huge business opportunity! A shift to focusing more on 'Creature comforts', you might say?"
[Haha...ha...Ehem.]
"It's hard enough to wake up in a foreign town with no recollection of how you arrived there, but doing so while dealing with unexpected changes in limb count, bodily disposition, height and weight requires many unexpected solutions. That's where I come in! See, a great deal of clients from my forme-- from my job were of the.. less human variety, so I am very experienced with bizarre needs! For instance, I once had a client develop an extra mouth on her torso. After extensive research, I concluded the saliva from the secondary oral cavity was much more acidic, due to its proximity to the stomach, so in response I CREATED: a stronger toothpaste! B-Because... dental hygiene is.. important? Um."
[Ta dah??? Yeah no, that was terrible, excuse him while he begins digging for more in his briefcase, muttering pleas to wait. Several other sheets of scribbled ideas include what can only be described as a highly advanced ray gun, detailing housing alterations for slimes and harpys and a hasty sketch of a werewolf boasting some freshly untorn pants labeled "Under-arooos."
Hopefully he is at the correct building this time.]