Cutscene - Rocket Punch pt 1

June 21, 2017:

Cutscene: Rusalka Stojespal fabricates a first-generation electric stun-glove for Jessica Jones, and realizes she has to make sure they work.

Columbia University dorm room

A simple dorm room, quite comfortably appointed. Racing memorabilia mixes well with mechanical and electronic tools, everything laid out precisely in its place. Definitely the abode of a perfectionist.


NPCs: Downstairs Quiet Neighbor

Mentions: Jessica Jones


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Three days, she'd promised. Finding the spare time to work on things had been difficult with everything going on, but Sally Stojespal is one of those determined people. If there isn't a spare few hours, she'll just stay up a little later than she should, and get it done. It isn't as if she's a stranger to long late nights anyways; even before her world had changed she'd been a serious college student.

Undead vampire hours come with the territory.

But she'd managed to get it done on time, or at least - she will. It hadn't been too hard to locate several tasers, easily obtained even at her age with the SHIELD badge. The look on the gun store owner's face had almost been worth the cost alone, when he'd realized how young his Agent customer was. Some spare capacitors for obvious need, then some leather gloves - ones that fit her, padded for fighting.

The hardest part of it all had actually been finding proper woven copper mesh…until she realized it was everywhere when it came to filters and hose sheaths. In the end it came down to simple legwork for the parts and a little bit of wiring. The smell of burned metal from a soldering iron filled her room for a while afterward, dabs of liquid silver that cooled quickly and held a proper circuit.

Now it all lay before her - the cracked open tasers, their electrical leads replaced with the copper mesh. This was laid over the padded fingers of the glove, wired to each half of the stungun's capacitor and discharge circuit. It took a little bit of careful work to anchor it all, but paint-on liquid rubber made for a fine shock-resistant mounting. It would also make a good waterproof cover - when one is using electrical stun-gloves, liquids tend to be problematic.

Each glove was wired across the palm, a little pressure switch there to activate the electrics - or deactivate them, when Jessica didn't want to actually put someone on the ground that hard. As the last bits are put together, an insulated cover is glued down and the capacitor stacks attached to each other. More wires, more soldering, Sally hunched over the worktable.

In the end? Finished. It's rough, it's relatively crude, but it's a proof of concept. It probably won't affect the nanites that make up the God's Blood that Jessica Jones really wants, but it's not supposed to yet. Right now it's just supposed to be incapacitating, demonstrating the ability to reliably deliver an electric shock of any kind. Once she gets the chance to tune electrical frequencies to something that generates a disruptive magnetic field when the gloves discharge, well.

That's when these things will be ready.

But for now she needs to find something that works to start with, and looking down at the things, she grins. Liquid rubber is drying slowly, covering all of the outer blocky parts and giving extra insulation to the wiring. The only exposed parts are the wire mesh over the first knuckles, the delivery system for it all. Sally stretches, arms and legs out as straight as she can get them for a few seconds to wring out cramps.

The Sokovian scoops up her cellphone, skimming through the holographic display to find Jessica's number - it's late, and she's probably working an investigation. Private Eyes make college students look like bankers as far as their hours of business. She taps out a quick text message.

Gloves finished. Fits me, should you. Will drop off tomorrow am.

And then there is a pause…because she knows her work is good. She's a professional, a perfectionist, and the kind of person to measure three times, recheck twice, measure once more, then cut. How does she know they'll work? Really work, when Jessica needs them? Or for that matter, when her PI friend tries them out the first time as a test. She stares at the mesh of both gloves, capacitors ready.

No way. She can't.

She has to. The option for failure doesn't exist in her mind, and the only way to test it is to test it. Unfortunately this isn't like putting a supercharger into a car and testing it on the track, this is…going to suck. Both palm switches are tripped, the little red light from the stungun's arming circuit glowing. Her hands reach to each mesh, but freeze - momentarily defying her orders. She slips into her native Ukrainian for a minute, psyching herself up.

"<Alright. Alright. We can do this. We can. Deep breath.>" She inhales…exhales. Takes another deep breath. Her hands shake, as Sally stands - nudging the chair out of the way of the floor, making sure she isn't going to hit anything. "<Ready. Three…two…one.>" Pause. "<Three…Two…ONE.>" And she slams both hands down on the bare dischargers.

The dorm room below was studying social mores of the 18th century as part of a law exam. World music was playing, because of course it was in a college dorm in the 21st century. Something with a nice drumbeat and a gamelan, actually, though the Sokovian upstairs had never heard it. They were nice enough to keep the noise down. And so had their upstairs neighbor, never having a particular complaint. At least not until the room was met with a surprisingly loud shriek and a hard thud, audible enough through the ceiling that it had disturbed a dissertation on Ben Franklin's love life. Thumping on the ceiling had been enough to issue their displeasure, though. It isn't as if it were exam week; no need for a floor war in the dorm.

After a few minutes, Jessica Jones' phone will ping again. The message is shorter, yet apparently says a lot more than the last one did. gLves workk. ow.

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