Sci-Fi Armor Costume

Velma continued feeling along the stretch of floor in front of her. Since her hands didn't come in contact with a wall, she knew she was still had further to search, so she kept going. Even blind as a bat, however, she could tell she'd come across something strange. Ignoring any disorientation about her direction or the space of the room, it was apparent that the floor surface was no longer made up of the creaky floorboards of an old abandoned manner. She was moving onto something metal, something completely unidentifiable. As she tried to rely on her imagination and sense of touch to build a mental image, she found she couldn't picture it at all. Something almost like a manhole, but smoothly ramped off of the floor?

She wasn't considering it much longer. Before she could say "Jinkies," her dim vision was suddenly flash-banged with bright light. After that, everything went dark... It wasn't just that the light was off. Although she could feel her hands and bare legs on the same metal pad, she could sense the whole room was darker than even the eerie lamp-lit mansion she'd just been in. What had happened? She needed clues and she needed glasses.

Starting with the clues... Why were her entire legs in bare contact with cold metal? She got a new shock as she tried to shift from her knees and back onto her butt to puzzle it out: she tensed and shivered as both cheeks of her bare ass got chilled. Just her skirt riding up wouldn't explain it, and sure enough, as she began patting across her chest and sides, she felt more of her exposed body. She didn't find anything but flesh. While she was at it, she pinched an inch of her waist. She didn't wake up. She wasn't dreaming.

Her first instinct was to call out for help. Before a cry had left her lips, however, she stifled it and shut her lips tight. "I don't care how dark it is... This is one confusing situation I don't want anyone shedding light on!" What she really needed even more than her clothes was her glasses. If she could just find them...!

"Ms. V," a stranger's voice came from nearby. When she turned in that direction, she instinctively covered her nudity so it'd be protected from someone viewing her that way, clamping her legs together and crossing her arms over her broad chest. "Ms. V," the voice continued. "Head this way and put on the glasses. Everything'll be clear!"

The butt-naked brunette didn't have much of a choice, so she began moving across the floor. There was one thing spurring her to action: Velma was an enthusiastic reader of popular science magazines, and she knew a bit about the idea of "synthetic voice machines." The voice talking to her definitely wasn't a human, even though it had what Velma thought of as a Brookyln accent. Maybe it was safe to believe it was a kind of computer? She couldn't think of any reason a computer would care about her naked body, so she crawled forward unguarded. She was surprised to find that, off of the pad, she was touching what seemed to be new carpeting. While it raised yet another question, it was at least more comfortable for her bare legs to brush against than the cold metal had been.

Enough about the carpet: her hand finally reached a familiar shape. "My glasses!" she exclaimed, letting out a sigh of relief as she quickly put them on her face. With these on, she felt halfway to dressed, and she began to stand. "Oh thank-"

In a cruel prank, her new glasses flash-banged her a second time, this time with light that seemed to come right from behind their frames. It was only a flicker, thankfully, but it was disorienting enough to knock her back onto her ass with a metallic "thunk." For a moment, she was holding her hands to her head, trying to stop the world from spinning...

Gradually, things became clearer for her again. Much clearer.

Velma was stunned to see the now well-lit room she was in looked like a cross between a living room and a tech fair. It couldn't be more removed from the plantation manor she'd been in just moments ago. On nearly every piece of furniture, most all of which seemed to be made of a type of plastic or lightweight metal, there was what looked like a computer screen, but floating in the air just off of the surface. It looked like whoever lived here didn't just have strange taste in art and decorating, but access to technology she'd never read or heard about.

The matter of who lived here was a pressing concern, as she realized she still ought to be naked. However, when she looked down, she didn't see her bare hands, but instead a pair of gauntlets. They reminded her of knight's armor, but covered in all kinds of flashing lights, doodads and gizmos... When she put her hand to her gut, she didn't feel the armored fingertips on her flesh. So she was wearing... something. Whatever this was.

Finally, there was a third matter, possibly the most important. She was seeing everything so clearly, it was as if everything she'd seen in her life up to that point was just a grainy television broadcast. The glasses she'd picked up were shaped like her own, but they were clearly part of the same futuristic technology that was all over this place. "Gee... If I look in a mirror, I'll probably count freckles I never knew I had!"

"Yeah..." the other voice came from nearby. "About those freckles of yours. My employer is real interested in 'em!"

It had come from the kitchen... Or, what Velma assumed must be a next-century version of a kitchen. The thing speaking to her made her gasp. She knew enough about robotics to tell what she was looking at, and although this one looked friendly enough, considering she only knew a certain Charlie as her reference point, she had to swallow her nerves. This robot was a little taller than her, mostly made of blue steel. It had two red, rotating dials where eyes ought to be and a slot where a mouth ought to be. It had pincers for hands, and a base with four wheels like a rolling chair instead of legs. Finally, it had a white frilled headband and apron, and was painted with the black coloration of a skirt on its lower "body." She'd never seen anything like it, but it was clear it was supposed to be a kind of robot maid. Frankly, it looked a little shabby compared to the other electronics in this room, and Velma had no idea why it would be programmed with an accent.

The thing beeped, then bowed in apology. "I'm sorry, ma'am. That came off as creepy, didn't it? No way to make a first impression. Let's start over. My name's Rosie the Robot. I'm hired as a housekeeper, only right now, I'm doin' double duty, keepin' the house and playin' telephone between you and Mr. S. Now, before you decide Mr. S is a creep for goin' on about your freckles, teleportin' you here in your birthday suit, and dressing you up like a toy robot..."

She paused, expecting Velma to interject with a sarcastic remark. Normally, she might have, but right now Velma's brain was still trying to catch up.

"... Mr. S is here to invite you to be on a game show! I guess both of us are gonna be on it, really, but you're the one he cares about, enough to pull you from-"

"Wait!" Velma suddenly shouted. "The Mysterious Maid Murderbot we were looking for! The owner of the mansion was participating in a test for some kind of hi-tech maid robot, but it had turned on him, killed him, and scared away all his guests. That was you, Rosie?!"

Rosie paused and tilted her head. "****... bot? I'm programmed to be multi-functional, but I ain't ever been programmed for nothin' like that, Ms. V! Hey... hey!" Before Rosie could back up, Velma had approached and started pulling on the robot's head, trying to remove a costume prop. "Hold on a sec! Mr. S said he came up with that to lure you here. Uh, not as a trap, he adds. It's to let you be on the game show."

Velma backed up, then crossed her arms. "Uh-huh. This is how people normally get invited to Jeopardy, right?"

"Theeere's that sarcasm Mr. S said you'd have," Rosie replied with a nod, clapping her metal pincers together. "Well, there are a few important things to know up front about this little game show. First, you should know that we're on a live broadcast. Mr. S can see you, of course, but he's tellin' me everyone you know with a good-old-fashioned tube TV can see you, too. From all kinds of angles, actually."

"You expect me to believe that? I may have stumbled my way in here, but I know what TV camera looks like."

"Hmm. 'Scuse me, Ms. V, but if you don't recognize an economy-model robot like me, I don't think there's much chance you could recognize these little guys. Anyway, just remember you're gonna be live. The second important thing is that you can step on that teleporter over there and go back any time you want. If you do, though, you forfeit the prizes."

"What's a teleporter? And what prizes?"

"Uh, by 'teleporter' I mean that big metal circle you came in on. I get you're probably not too happy about that, but don't worry; your old clothes weren't made for it, but that getup'll go with you. Anyway, yeah. The choice is yours... but Mr. S tells me to tell you that it's a one way trip, so don't think about going back to round up the gang. Now, on to the prizes. Mr. S says to tell you..." Rosie paused cryptically. "He says 'how about a Scooby Snack?'"

"... Didn't you say this guy knows me? I think he has the wrong member of Mystery Inc. Does he need to borrow my glasses?"

"He says 'how about a lifetime supply of Scooby Snacks? No more trips to the store, no more running out of 'em right when you need a push from Shaggy and Scooby.'"

"Uh, your boss sounds like he knows at least a thing or two about me. Does he also know I basically travel from town to town across the country in a van? I'm not confident he's going to be able to find a permanent postal address to send those to. Got anything else?"

"Uuuuh..." Rosie droned. When she spoke again, it was in a robot's imitation of a whisper. "I'm pretty sure Mr. S was expecting you to bite on that... He's thinkin'. Say, is there anything else you want?"

"Let's forget the prizes for a second. What is your boss even asking me to do? This doesn't look like any game show set I've ever seen."

"Well... It's gonna sound like I've got a screw loose when I tell you, but Mr. S just wants you to let me clean that armor while you're wearin' it. That's the whole game. I'm a professional cleaner, and the armor ain't even dirty, so it sounds like a pretty short game! The rule is just that you let me clean it without givin' up and runnin' away... 'a thorough cleanin',' he says. Gives me the heeby-jeebies."

Velma stared closely at Rosie. The robot was clunky, but she was well-polished, and the young woman realized she had an opportunity to take in her reflection. It was a crazy outfit... her face peeked out from it with familiar-looking glasses, and she was surprised to see that the pale skin of her shoulders, forearms, and upper thighs were all exposed. However, the rest of her was wrapped in pointy, shiny silver, covered in flashing lights and weird gizmos. It included a helmet, pauldrons, gauntlets, armor with chest and shorts coverage, and tall boots. Velma was sharp enough that future shock didn't hold her long. Instead, she just realized more mysteries: the placement of all those fancy devices looked totally random, like they were thrown onto a kid's toy rather than engineered by a design team. Somehow cheap...

Setting aside the matter of her outfit, Velma took in the details of the robot with her new clear eyesight, scanning her closely for clues. The only obvious "cleaning tool" Rosie was carrying was a little feather duster... How bad could the cleaning be? It occurred to her she'd normally use a magnifying glass to observe details, but with these future-tech, she was able to take in the smallest clue. Finally, something came to her. "When I leave here, do I get to keep these glasses?"

Rosie paused, tilting her head. "Mr. S says if you stick it out, he'll give you those Scooby Snacks and let you keep the glasses as a bonus. Says he'll even throw in a fantastic, futuristic device called a 'strap' so you never lose 'em again."

The detective considered carefully. She'd survived encounters with all kinds of criminals and crazy schemes, and, like all of Mystery Inc., she was a pro at running away. If she was being honest, the only thing she considered a weakness was her reliance on and tendency to lose her glasses... Imagine if she could make this the very last time.

Plus, she had to admit, trying to pull the head off a costumed robot only to find out it was a real one had piqued her interest. Wasn't this a genuine mystery to solve? She couldn't be satisfied turning around and riding off in the Mystery Machine... she'd lose her solving streak!

"Tell Mr. S that Mystery Inc. is on the case!"

Rosie paused, regarding her silently. Listening. "Mr. S says he's happy, but he doesn't want Mystery Inc. Just you. Ready, Ms. V? I'm g-g-gonna get started started... I said I'm gonna get started," Rosie finished, recovering from a sudden spat of stuttering and billowing smoke from a joint.

"Uh... Are you okay? Is that anything I need to worry about?"

"Just an old motor or servo, I'm s-s-sure," Rosie remarked, waving her feather duster in the air. "This routine cleaning'll be over in a sn-sn-snap!"