The Proxy-faced Protector!

#holy shit #it IS me #why did this blog ever go to the dust

[rises from the grave]

Justice… Calls

cameratahusbands-remade-blog

here is a cute royce proxy head for all ur cute royce proxy head needs

#ME!!!!!!!!!!

transisstor

reblog if ur a two-bit camerata piece of trash

#excuse me i am not trash #how… impertinent

rabbittraps-archive

this may be late for the transistor anniversary, but at least it’s fashionably late (fullview please)

#reblogged #the gangs all here #and queer #and dapper as fuck

Scarlet Siren may be great at evading capture, but do you find success with foiling her fiendish plots?

“I… have a… fairly, good percentage of wins against the Siren’s little… games.”

“About… sixty… percent… sixty five, really… maybe… sixty four… …I’m… working on it.”

#woa wtf why did this never post #oh well #ask

blakknotgaming

#!!!#THEM

Doppelgänger!

"Well yes, we needed someone to gather information.. Someone who fits in well with society and knows everyone.. A social butterfly if you will; Sybil fits that criteria.. Now as to why we would need an espionage.. That’s a little too prying."

Royce doesn’t seem to consider how eerie this might sound to his double. Probably because he’s essentially the same person as his double and what he said didn’t sound eerie to him. It only made sense for his double to feel the same.(at least it did in his mind)

It’s just Sybil’s job, nothing more, nothing less.

"Well, now you've, just got me interested." snorts Royce. He yanks quite a length of extension cord out of the back of his proxy.

"Battery's low and... probably not in good shape. Do you have an, outlet?"

He looks around for one, a small frown on his face.

"Say. You aren't… engaging in criminal, activities, are you? Not that I really have any… jurisdiction here."

Doppelgänger!

Royce shrugs his shoulders, what was there to say about his colleagues? Surely his counterparts version of them were quite similar to his own, just with an added quirk. He still finds this whole ‘super-hero’ shtick to be a bit… Strange to say the least. What could possibly threaten Cloudbank that would need a super-hero?

Nothing he can think of rings a bell.

"Well.. What do you want to know about them? Grant’s an administrator, Asher’s a reporter and Sybil plans events, she’s also our eyes and ears out in Cloudbank… I’m assuming they’re similar to yours.. They’re just not as… Heroic to say the least.. Just.. Ask whatever you want I suppose… But don’t pry, I hate it when we pry."

Royce's eyes narrow slightly.

"Eyes and… ears, you say. Now what would you need with… eyes and ears?"

He looks up at his twin.

"If I'm not, prying, that is."

He looks back down at his contraption, then begins tinkering around inside it again. After a few moments it emits sparks, and Royce digs through the toolbox for electrical tape, screws, and batteries.

Doppelgänger!

A crime fighting super-hero, he raises a brow at this statement.

Royce considers this variant of himself to be some sort of deviant, perhaps a drug addict… Not that he himself hadn’t messed with drugs at some point in his life, he wasn’t any better than his twin.

He returns the smile, peering over the others shoulder. How they’d managed to render the Proxy practically useless was beyond him. Though everything this man did was beyond him, how was any of this rational?

"See I just sit by quietly and do my job, there’s no.. Frying-pan kicking and double pinning involved.. Just math, awful lot of math.. It’s a very dull existence, not that I mind it too much.. In fact I quite like it.. But anyways, what’s the problem here? I don’t recall any of these modifications.."

Royce whistles; it's a low sound. The kind one makes when something amazing but not altogether pleasing has happened.

"Just about everything is broken… Night vision works. So does the manual override system. Oh! The radio function works. That's good… That's good."

Royce fiddles with the helmet and music starts playing. It sounds a little tinny but thats to be expected.

"No, you wouldn't… I made these to help me… fight crime. There's a whole mess of neat stuff in here… Too bad they're completely broken. I'll need replacement parts and… ooh… That's been leaking… I'd better check for burns…"

He mumbles to himself a little, pulling off his tattered jacket and feeling the back of his neck gingerly with his fingers.

After pulling several broken-looking pieces out of the helmet, Royce looks up at his counterpart.

"What are the others like, here? I'm sure you know Grant… Asher… And you knew Sybil… Everyone knows Sybil don't they. Tell me about them."

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"YOU THERE, CITIZEN!" shouts the masked hero with a deep sonorous voice, his crimson cape fluttering in the cool night air. "WHY ARE YOU DISGUISED WITH A TELEVISION FOR A HEAD? WHAT DASTARDLY DEEDS ARE YOU PLOTTING?"

"No, dastardly deeds." replies Proxy Head in a softer but equally sonorous voice. "In fact I… have a hunch we’re on the, ah, same team, generally speaking."

He deftly clears the distance between the two of them.

"Now who, who are you?”

"Ah, but the eyes are the window to the soul, my dear Proxyhead," he retorts smartly with a smirk. "And while mine are as shielded as they could possibly be…yours are expanded against the glass ten-fold."

"The Skytagger?" repeats the Storyteller with wide eyes. "Who would dare blemish the sky with graffiti!? The sky is beauty and grace defined! That which provides inspiration, light and joy… It is-” But he stops short of his rant as the other hero leaps off.

"H-hey, wait up!"

Quickly, the red renegade pulls out a dusty old broom from under his cape seemingly out of nowhere. Climbing on side-saddle, he pushes his feet off the ground, diving after the Proxy headed protector with a surprising grace as his cape flutters in the wind.

#storytellersavior #farrahtheskypainter #wanna join in buddy?

Proxy Head's incredible Proxy Helmet carries the hero through the air rather quickly for such a small craft. How gravity isn't pulling his head out of his shoulders is a complete and utter mystery.

His voice does sound a bit strained though.

"The sky is… quite easy to, change, you see. Though I agree… why anyone would want to… blemish it. It's beyond me. However… however… We're dealing with a, delinquent, Mr. Storyteller."

Doppelgänger!

Royce watches his double curiously as they work on the ‘helmet’; the scene before him comes off as strange. He squints at the Proxy, surely this other Royce didn’t wear this in public. He figures the double was probably at some sort of… Celebration, a party maybe.(Sybil’s parties have questionable themes sometimes)

"Well see.. I don’t know how to pin someone. I’m an engineer, I work with numbers not fists… So anyways, what have you got there? Surely it’s not just some television screen."

Royce pours himself another glass of wine; considers pouring the double a glass but decides against it.

"What DO you do with this… Helmet?"

"I'm a… what you may, call, a… super hero. Pinning people is a… a necessary skill." he looks up at his twin and gives him a smile– or the Royce equivalent of one. A slight upturn in the corners of the mouth and a little twinkle in the eyes. "Oh, it isn't. It's… much more. Much… muuuch more."

He tinkers around inside the helmet, making little clucking sounds and small groans. It's pretty banged up in there.

"I fight crime. The denizens of Cloudbank, my, Cloudbank, know me as Proxy Head. Royce Bracket is… still a civic engineer… But he's far, more than that… But nobody knows. Nobody knows. Except me, you, and… The Camerata."

smokingscreens-deactivated20180

"No, dastardly deeds." replies Proxy Head in a softer but equally sonorous voice. "In fact I… have a hunch we’re on the, ah, same team, generally speaking."

He deftly clears the distance between the two of them.

"Now who, who are you?”

The Storyteller looks him up and down, raising an eyebrow. “And is the ‘Proxy’ on your head meant to protect your identity, or merely provide protection?” he asks dubiously. “Because I hate to tell you this…but I can see your features perfectly under there.”

Sweeping his cape imperiously, he curls his cape around him to shield himself from the billowing winds of the skyscraper.

"But…in any case, it is always a pleasure to meet a fellow crime fighter," he continues. "And I assure you, good sir, I am not lying. You see…I-“

He looks around awkwardly as he tries to gather his senses enough to speak, but pauses, frowning deeply at a spot behind Proxyhead.

"I…is is that cloud flipping me the bird!?" he exclaims suddenly, pointing at the vivid vermilion patch of sky.

Indeed, if the proxyheaded protector were to look, he would notice a particularly bright. almost dreamlike, partition of the sky where the red swirled wondrously with midnight blue. The clouds seemed to spell out ‘The sky is the limit~' in an oddly elegant scrawl before coming to a period that was, indeed, shaped like a hand with a protruding middle finger.

#storytellersavior #hurhurhur

Our hero sniffs and copies the other man's raised eyebrow.

"I could, say the same for that… little strip of cloth over your eyes."

He stares at the hero for a while before swivelling around suddenly.

"The Skytagger! And it looks fresh!"

There's a slight mechanical blipping from inside his helmet, then he beckons to the Storyteller wildly.

"Quickly!! We must get–– after her!"

And with that, the Proxy protector leaps off the edge of the skyscraper.

#art #doodle #PROXY HEAD #roycespaintbrush

Doppelgänger!

It was a rational thought process but why would he do anything but distrust him? His double appeared to be some sort of.. Eccentric hero sort of man. Royce himself was quite the contrary, his thoughts were a bit.. Morbid to say the least.

"Well.. Only minutes ago you kicked a frying pan out of my hands and restrained me.. I was completely innocent, I didn’t even wack you with the pan… Yet you figured it reasonable to resort to such violence.. I have my reasons to distrust you."

He shrugs his shoulders, watches the double leave the room and leaves it himself. He wanted another glass of wine.

Royce hears the man's reasoning but is too intent on finding his tools. He reaches the closet quickly and rummages around inside for the toolbox. There's an awful lot of dusty old things in here…

Once he's found the toolbox, he ambles to the kitchen where his alternate must be.

"Now, to, explain myself… I do, apologize, yes, I apologize for the… attack. But when I, arrived, I assumed this was my own home. I assumed you were some sort of intruder in my abode and, well… Wouldn't you have done the same? In any case, I can see now, yes… I can see now I myself am the, intruder… How unfortunate… But you've been kind enough, so far… Kind enough. For me."

He sits down on the ground and opens the toolbox, setting his helmet down between his legs and reaching for a screwdriver. He unscrews the front of the helmet and pulls it away.

"Ohh dear…"

Doppelgänger!

The Transistor?

Surely his double didn’t expect him to hand over such a valuable artifact; they seemed to be much more chaotic than himself. There was no telling what they would and wouldn’t do.. Why Royce would’ve gotten the Transistor himself and be done with this… But then what?

What if killing his double meant killing himself?

He shakes his head lightly, trying to let those morbid thoughts sink to the back of his head. “NO… I mean.. No, I apologize for my outburst, honestly but.. You stumble into my humble abode, kicked a frying pan out of my hands and then pinned me.. My trust in you is.. Very little, almost nonexistent… I’d much sooner trust Sybil with the Transistor… She’d probably turn the entire town into… Well.. Sybil… And you..? Well… I think you’d very much like to take the Transistor and give me a jab.. I know I’d do the same.”

Royce frowns at his double. I know I'd do the same? Incredible. He mentally notes to himself to contain this alternate of himself if he ever attempts to visit his own universe. He seems dangerous.

"If you… don't trust, me, then I have… no reason to trust, you, either."

He sighs, then turns on his heels. Better go find those tools.

smokingscreens-deactivated20180

"No, dastardly deeds." replies Proxy Head in a softer but equally sonorous voice. "In fact I… have a hunch we’re on the, ah, same team, generally speaking."

He deftly clears the distance between the two of them.

"Now who, who are you?”

"Cloudbank…? Cloudbank," he repeats, a little dubiously. The Storyteller takes in the beautiful Art Deco-esque metropolis in confusion.

The brilliant skyline, the breath-taking view and the dazzling lights seem to daze him for a moment as the setting slowly sets in. “This…this is like no place I’ve ever seen,” he concludes, running a gloved hand through his hair.

Slowly, he turns to face Proxyhead again, blinking. How did I end up here, exactly? One minute I was grousing about the lack of villains and the next…could I have been called here by…by..

Suspiciously, the Storyteller jumps a good meter backwards. “I simply strolled in,” he answers vaguely, his eyes narrowing at the proxy-headed hero. “But why the lack of visitors to such a beautiful self-proclaimed city of the future? What deep dark secrets does this place hold, Mr…”