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Jillian Holtzmann

Mysterious Islands

My Content
Dec 27 2017, 04:23 PM
Erin Gilbert

Jillian Holtzmann was terrible at following directions. While her whole soul wanted to stay in bed with Erin for as long as she could, she was also torn by a strong desire to finish a project she had been working on while angry. Now it was a much happier endeavor, since she could actually give this present to Erin instead of just working on it sadly in secret while cursing the confusion of the ball.

She was hard at work in the lab by the time anyone else woke up. Just when she left the bed, dressed in a work coverall, and started building was anyone's guess. She looked pale and cold, though she had her sleeves rolled up and was wielding torches frequently enough not to notice. She took the sweating to be from how hard she was working, and not a fever from any possible illness.

She was too happy to get sick.

Putting the finishing touches on the hinge mechanism of the lid, Holtzmann took a moment to admire her work. She smiled, thinking it did end up looking a lot like the firehouse back home, which had been the goal. She build a music box for Erin, thinking she missed everything about being back home. Instead of dancing ballerinas inside a chest shaped box, the firehouse opened like a book to reveal Abby and Erin dancing together on one side, dressed in black just like they had been when reliving their high school project, with Patty and Holtzmann on the other side. She did her best with the figures, though actual art was a little outside her creative realm. She had a fanciful imagination, yes, but her skills were more toward building and experimenting.

She did her best, though, because it was meant to be a present. That was why she had not been eating or sleeping very much since the ball. Working was always her escape, and because she had been so sad, she needed to give herself a challenging project to keep her occupied.

Of course, she was well aware that both Pearl and Erin would be yelling at her soon, but things like that never bothered her. She was feeling happy and excited, which was far more important than anything else. Carrying the music box in a sheet, she wandered to go and find her new girlfriend.

Was it safe to call her that now? Either way, Holtz was going with it.
Jul 1 2017, 10:02 AM

Jillian Holtzmann had not slept in several days, and was pushing herself to her limits, which was a surprising feat because she had never actually managed to find them before. Usually, she could work tirelessly and enjoy that work without too many problems, and just let herself zonk out whenever she needed to should she stay up one too many days. It never mattered before, and she was always free to live as she wanted to.

Recently, things felt different. She did not want to sleep, because she feared the moments before drifting off, when her mind was at rest and free to wander where she did not want it to go. She dreaded the sadness, the silence, and the heavy, oppressive darkness of simply laying there alone.

She did everything she could to avoid it, and thus dove into her work with triple the tenacity. She worked until her fingers ached and bled, until her body sagged from the weight of her exhaustion. She made profound leaps of achievement, and had managed to build and refine through three models so far, a proton pack hooked up to both her proton pistols, which she kept in spring loaded cases under the pack itself, and her newest toy, the proton sword. It was still massive and difficult to wield, but smaller than her first iteration and carried a more streamlined flow of energy and power behind the charge when it was on.

She was proud of her work. But it was a very thin shield between her and her feelings.

Today, she was out for another test of her pack. She had it on her back, strapped on like a backpack but with thick, leather straps she had gotten out of the Cannery and re-purposed for this goal. It was still heavy, but less so than the first version, and that was the way she worked. Each new model, new build, was a small improvement. She must have looked crazy, walking down the street wearing a pack of metal parts soldered together, a long metal sword sheathed at her side, but it was hardly the weirdest thing she was wearing.

She had yellow goggled over her eyes, and a scarf around her neck. She had her Screw U necklace on, and an oversized set of overalls with a form fitting tank top underneath. If she lifted her arms, a lot of skin showed, but she hardly seemed to mind. She was also wearing men's boots that were clearly not the right size, but she'd fixed the problem of them falling off by using masking tape to secure them.

All she needed to do was get out of town and into the woods, where she could chop down a few more trees to test the strength of the charge for her proton saber.
Jun 30 2017, 08:37 AM
Oh Boov

Holtzmann was excited to see her little friend from before, always eager to meet and get to know more scientists. This one happened to be an alien, and also a male and not the female she had first met, but those were all technicalities. Holtzmann did her damned best not to get hung up on technicalities, so she was not going to let any of that get in the way of being friends with Oh, and seeing what he could do with technology and the science of this world and realm.

For her own part, Holtzmann had been working very hard on her projects. Her lab looked even more messy than ever, which was a surprising feet considering she'd literally blown it up before. She had projects of all types, in various stages of completion, spread through out the lab. The ones that called her attention the most, though, were the zombie fighting gear.

Though it was not nearly as beautiful and refined as the ones she had back home, she'd managed to build herself a proton pack out of bits and pieces to fuel her current project: a zombie slicing blade. Hanging out with Sherlock in that zombie hell hole and seeing how effectively swords put zombies down, she'd been dying to make one of her own. Unfortunately, it was still in the trial stages, and she would have to rebuild it several more times, tweeking and changing things a little each time, to bring it down in size and up in power to where she wanted it to be.

Right now it was more a proton great sword or baseball bat than a proton sword.

She also had new weapons, unlike ones she had made back home, brewing, as well as containment units and the many other projects she'd mentioned in passing to Oh and some of the other techies she'd run into so far. At least she was keeping herself busy. All this inspiration and excitement, though, meant for very little sleep. She had not gone to be, technically, in 48 hours, though she was pretty sure she blinked earlier and it last way longer than it was supposed to.

She was pretty sure nothing bad would happen while working sleepy, though. When had it ever? Besides, like, all the time.
Jun 30 2017, 08:25 AM
em 'n' em's (Didn't know the character's name so I just tagged this)

Holtzmann looked like a robot in disguise, except her ability to blend into normal human technology was remedial at best. Not the best Transformer, then, but a damn cool robot. She was wearing a heavy, massive proton pack that she strapped to her back with thick leather belts because it was too heavy for her to wear any other way. It was not the most ideal thing, but without her more refined equipment from back home, she had to start over from the beginning in developing these things.

Attached to the pack with a long wire was what looked to be a wide hilt of a sword, complete with pommel. At the top of the guard, however, there was no blade. Instead, there was just a metal rod that ended with a strange looking metallic plug.

Reaching behind her, Holtzmann powered the rather unstable and potentially explosive Proton Pack, hearing the engines whirring to life and electric, raw power sparking behind her through the makeshift Faraday Cage she used as shielding, which told her that maybe it was not as effective at it needed to be. Just more notes to be added to the pile: that was the point of live tests, wasn't it?

Grinning ear to ear, drawing down her yellow tinted safety goggles, Holtzmann hit a large button on the side of the hilt and the proton stream leaped forward. Instead of whipping out wildly like it did with their guns, it was compelled to wrap around the metal rod, tightly coiling itself and creating a dangerous looking energy club. Not quite a sword, at least not in appearance, but Holtz knew it would be able to cut through zombies and ghosts alike.

And maybe trees.

With a wild laugh, she grabbed hold of the sword with both hands and took a running swing at the nearest tree, opting to come to the middle of the forest for this test rather than anywhere too populated. The Proton blade sizzled and then began to roar as it sliced, melted, and vaporized its way through the trunk. She got about halfway before the power failed and the blade switched off, the metal rod clunking uselessly against the inside of the tree. The half felled tree wobbled back and forth for a moment, then began to fall toward Holtzmann, who yelled and leaped out of the way.
Apr 23 2017, 05:22 PM
Erin Gilbert

Jillian Holtzmann was absolutely terrible at taking care of herself. She was only noticing now because, for the first time in many, many years, she had become absolutely alone. Usually there was someone there, during the day or for fleeting hours, that she could rely on to care for her when she stopped paying attention to herself. Friends, like Abby, or the other Ghostbusters once they became a team. Before that, she had teachers, and before that, other foster children. For a short period, there was no one.

She worked hard, every day, to never have no one.

In this place, she felt isolated. Yes, there were very kind souls, like Sarah Jane and Pearl, who treated her like an inept kind of pet that needed looking after, but she felt like a burden to them. She had not earned their respect or love, and was not sure how she could do that in a world that did not yet seem to need her few skills in life. She was struggling to find a place for herself, which wore on her more than she wanted it to.

She was not good at being sad. She was not good at being lonely. And, as she was learning the hard way, not really good at being injured, either.

Stopping by the pharmacy, Holtzmann bought a bottle of over the counter pain killers with what little cash she had. She would have to pick up more tinkering work, fixing electronics for a few bucks here and there as needed.

With her purchase of only the most important things, the pain killers and a tube of pringles (because who could say no to those salty parabolas?), Holtzmann stepped outside and sighed, not looking forward to the long, painful walk back to the Cannery. She opened the pills to take a few, but her action was stopped as a portal opened up in front of her.
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