<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Reprocess on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/reprocess/</link><description>Recent content in Reprocess on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sun, 29 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/reprocess/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>A Wasp's Sting</title><link>/stories/2018/04/29/a-wasps-sting/</link><pubDate>Sun, 29 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/04/29/a-wasps-sting/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="awaspssting.html"&gt;part one&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Misadventures of Kim&lt;/strong&gt;*&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;Part Two: Power Burns&lt;/em&gt;*&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I don’t even remember most of my time in the factory. It was a dark until someone would come and drop off another mannequin. 
I was actually very intrigued by the machine. Every time a mannequin was brought in it would be scanned and then the belt under the line of mannequin it was made to look like would move back, emptying a space for the new arrival. 
My intrigue was the only thing that kept me from panicking. I knew I had been here for at least a full day, probably more, and was starting to worry. 
I was also no longer at the front of the Wasp section either, I was now at least 10 mannequins back and approaching the back of the line where a beeping was heard every time a model was sent beyond it. 
I had seen a few people come through and inspect some of the models in front of me but other than that I had no interaction with the outside world. I was starting to think I would spend the remainder of my days as a mannequin.
I must have dozed off for a while because I was abruptly awoken by the belt in my row moving backwards and a shadow being cast over me. I gasped as a green grid pattern of light descended from the ceiling and took in the entirety of my still form.
Many mechanical ‘whirs’ and ‘clicks’ were made as it scanned me over for a few moments before flashing a sudden and surprising red. 
“Error, no designated numerical code found for unit. Faulty part installation also detected. Unit to be set aside for review by administrator.” A synthesized voice echoed from all around me.
‘Faulty?’ I thought a little hurt that I wasn’t deemed acceptable enough for the machine’s standards. 
I didn’t have much time to worry about that however as multiple metal appendages came from all around me and lifted me off of the belt. They carried me for quite a distance before I was gently placed in an even darker room.
I don’t know how long it was before my eyes adjusted, my guess was a few hours, but once they did I could see the company I held.
I was placed in this room with two other mannequins. One was a replica of Power Girl who had pink hair instead of the normal blonde and the second was a Black Widow model with only one arm.
I sighed to myself as I prepared to either be “dismantled” or thrown away with these misfits.
It must have been another handful or more of hours before movement sprang to life again. I had spent those hours either sleeping or pretending to hold conversations between myself and the two other inhabitants of my new residence. 
Once more the arms descended, this time taking the Power Girl model and going through a bright doorway to out left where I heard a single voice that was being muffled through the walls.
Around 15 minutes later Black Widow received the same treatment and the voice let out a laugh once the door was closed. Based on my deductive skills the person inspecting us was a male around my age that enjoyed what he did to at least some extent. 
I only had to wait about half the time of the previous transaction before I was lifted up by the same arms as my sisters in malfunction. The door blinded me but seeing as how my eyelids did not obey my commands I was forced to endure.
“Well hello beautiful, what seems to be the problem?” a voice joked as I was lowered to a point where I could view him.
The man was roughly my age and wore a business suit that looked like it was thrown on against his will. He was at least a foot and a half taller than me with a lanky build and curly black hair.
He walked up to me with a tablet like device in hand and was looking back and forth between it and me.
“Well now everything seems to be in order. No barcode huh?” he asked to himself as he reached behind me and pulled up my dress. I would have slapped him but soon enough he returned to my view.
“Nope and the wings are a little off. What about the rest of you?” he commented idly as he brushed my hair and tapped the headphone like device.
As soon as he did that my body began relaxing and I felt control return to me. Grinning I poked his chest.
“The rest of me is just fine buster now hands off the merchandise!”
His reaction was absolutely priceless.
Immediately he dropped his tablet, let loose a girly scream and fell onto the floor.
“You! How?! Mannequin!” he yelled pointing at me with a trembling finger while shakily trying to get up.
I grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet. “Let’s just say my friend is an idiot who messed up our plan.”
Once I got him to calm down I explained to him exactly what happened. He was very intrigued by my story and actively asked me questions about how it felt being what was the equivalent to a living mannequin. 
It was fun talking to him, and not just because my only other conversations over the last two days had been with other mannequins and completely lopsided. He was kind, offering me water and food while also explaining himself to me.
As it turns out his name is Harrison Mackey, the current owner of the company that makes the mannequins. He was a child prodigy who took over for his father when he turned 22 last year. 
As he explained it to me the company did not just make mannequins.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>