I apologize for the delay. Here is the chapter again. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
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"Angie, initiate the R2 assembly protocol. Minimum velocity. Monitor the sub-AI feedback loops on the primary actuators for any sign of jitter."
A slight delay, then a melodic voice replied, "Beginning assembly, El. Monitoring for mechanical stress now."
She watched as the arms began to cut the pipes in length to form a structure, she was proud of her work. It was a far cry from what was shown in the Iron Man or Avenger movies, but it was hers. She left the room with more sway in her steps.
Elena took a final look in the mirror. She chose a deep emerald silk wrap top—comfortable enough for hosting, but with a neckline calculated to draw the eye. She wasn't trying to get into anyone's pants; she simply enjoyed being admired, even if some part in her felt it was a bit shallow.
She checked her room again, admiring the rigging specialist's handiwork. It was a classic bedroom, though a keen eye might spot the subtle, hidden hooks integrated into the decor. One feature, however, remained proudly visible: the spreader bar. Ever since that first night with Jules, it had become a permanent fixture, now bolted at chest height between the footposts of her bed.
Beneath it sat her toy trunk. She smiled as she confirmed the lid was locked, though she left the keys in place; the ornate snake-head carvings on the old locks were too charming to hide. She bit her lip, wondering briefly how long it would be before she was locked in—or locking someone else in—but she pushed the thought aside. She had no intention of showing anyone her bedroom tonight.
The doorbell chimed precisely at 7:00 PM. Elena opened the door to find the four men clumped together, with Penny trailing behind.
Penny was clearly making a statement. She was wearing a "little" black dress—tight, sleek, and paired with heels that looked challenging. She looked stunning in a way that signaled she was very much in control of her presence.
"Welcome," Elena said, stepping aside. "Please, come in."
"I brought the wine!" Leonard chirped, thrusting a bottle of mid-tier Merlot toward her. "It's a 2002. The label said 'notes of oak,' and since I saw you had a lot of oak furniture, I thought... synergy?"
"Thank you, Leonard. How thoughtful," Elena replied, her voice smooth. She suppressed a smile, remembering how enthusiastically Leonard had tried to help the movers haul the heavy, reinforced pieces of her oak bedframe upstairs.
As the group moved toward the living area, Sheldon remained standing, his head oscillating slowly like a radar dish scanning for interference. He ignored everyone—including Elena's invitation to sit—and instead walked a tight perimeter around the furniture. He paused briefly to hold a moistened finger to the air, testing the cross-breeze from the hallway, before eyeing the primary sofa with deep suspicion.
"Is something wrong, Sheldon?" Elena asked, mid-pour of the Merlot.
Sheldon's eyes locked onto the three-seater positioned on the left side of the living area. It was situated at the precise coordinates required to satisfy his internal compass. He bypassed the empty space nearest to him and marched directly toward the cushion where Leonard had just settled.
"Raj, you're in the way of my trajectory," Sheldon announced flatly.
With a practiced, weary eye-roll, Raj shifted over to the middle seat. Sheldon hovered over the left cushion for a moment of silent calculation before slowly lowering his frame. He shifted his weight tentatively, his face twitching as the fabric gave way beneath him with a give that differed from his broken-in leather back home.
"It's... adequate," Sheldon announced, though his tone suggested it was barely a passing grade. "The suspension is significantly more 'forgiving' than I prefer, and the dark brown fabric lacks the consistency of leather. However," he paused, turning his head toward the entrance, "while the primary orientation is a few degrees off-axis compared to my spot, the seat offers an easier line of sight to the front door. I can monitor the point of entry without any torsion of my upper body. In the event of a sudden zombie apocalypse those precious seconds of early detection could be the difference between life and death." He adjusted his sleeves, finally sitting still. "This will be my spot in here."
Penny rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. She took a pointed, heavy sip of the wine Elena had just poured her. "Don't mind him," she whispered loudly. "He does this everywhere. Honestly, after a while, the ritual becomes a sort of entertainment. A very annoying form of entertainment."
Elena had everything waiting on the low oak table. Beside a chilled bottle of champagne and a neat row of flutes, she had placed a tall glass of apple juice mixed with sparkling water—specifically for Sheldon.
"Welcome, everyone," she said, gesturing to the spread. "Please, make yourselves at home. I've already ordered dinner—it should be here in about twenty minutes. And Sheldon," she added, catching his eye specifically, "I made sure to include your order from the Szechuan Palace. I requested the diced chicken with dried chilies, but specifically asked for the steamed broccoli on the side and the brown rice instead of white as well as green soy sauce, as you asked me to. Just as I made sure no nuts are in one portion Howard."
Sheldon's posture relaxed by several degrees, a look of rare respect crossing his face. "A remarkable display of mnemonic retention and attention to protocol, Elena. You've successfully navigated a logistical minefield that Leonard still trips over after seven years."
"I just like things to be right," Elena replied with a modest smile. "In the meantime, I thought we'd start with a bit of a DIY bar." She pointed to the array of vodka, rum, cane sugar, and fresh-cut limes, flanked by various mixers and a new cocktail guide. "There's a book here if you're feeling adventurous, or feel free to improvise. I want everyone to have exactly what they like."
"A custom-mixology station," Sheldon observed, eyeing his apple juice. "By allowing us to control our own ratios of ethanol and sucrose, you've effectively bypassed the risk of social friction caused by an incorrectly prepared beverage as well as non alcoholic options. I approve."
Elena smiled, then turned back toward the kitchen. "I'll just grab a few more glasses for that Merlot."
By the time she returned with the additional stemware, the group had already staked out their territory. On the first sofa, Penny sat on the far left, Raj had been bumped into the middle to accommodate Sheldon's "trajectory," and Sheldon sat on the far right, finally satisfied with his tactical advantage against the undead.
Elena moved toward the second couch, intending to take the end seat, but Howard was faster. He slid onto the far right and immediately waving his arm toward the center with a theatrical gesture.
"Oh, please, Elena! Don't be a stranger," he chirped, patting the narrow gap he had created between himself and Leonard. "Allow me to provide the most ergonomic seating possible for our lovely hostess." It was a classic Wolowitz maneuver—disguising a boundary-cross as a polite gesture to force her into the middle.
Elena sat, but as soon as she did, she felt the space tighten. Leonard, sitting on her right, shifted closer under the guise of reaching for his wine, while Howard leaned in from the left. She was pinned between them, the "hungry, hormonal curiosity" she had sensed earlier now manifesting as a physical weight.
"Before we dive into the interrogation," Howard announced, standing up briefly to raise his glass with a flourish. "A toast! To our new neighbor. I know Sheldon has claimed his 'spot' as the most significant location in this room, but I beg to differ." He leaned down slightly, catching Elena's eye with a practiced wink. "I am fairly certain that in every version of the known multiverse, the best spot in existence is the one next to you."
"Hear, hear," Leonard muttered. He was clearly annoyed that Howard had beaten him to the punch, but the frustration was softened by the warm weight of Elena's leg near his own. He quickly raised his own flute, clinking it against Elena's a little too firmly. A tiny bead of sparkling champagne jumped from the glass, landing on her silk top.
Penny rolled her eyes, muttering "Oh, brother" directly into her champagne before taking a long, cynical gulp.
Elena sat back, and immediately the interrogation began. Howard and Leonard operated like a tag-team of social awkwardness.
"I noticed the server racks by the window," Howard started, leaning in so close his shoulder pressed against Elena's. "As a Master of Engineering, I have to ask—are you running a localized cloud, or is there a more... intimate use for all that bandwidth?"
Raj's eyes widened. He leaned forward, his mouth opening as if to ask about the hardware specifications, but Leonard cut him off before a single sound could escape.
"Ignore him," Leonard insisted, shifting his own weight closer to Elena until she was physically sandwiched. "I'm more interested in you and your origin. Where did you grow up? Do you have siblings? A sister, perhaps, with the same... predisposition for excellence and silk?"
Raj tried again, his hand half-raised like a student in a classroom, but Howard was already pivoting back to the webcams. "And the high-def optics? Are we talking security, or are you a—"
"I'm an only child," Elena managed to squeeze out, her voice slightly strained from the literal pressure of the two men on either side of her.
"Fascinating," Leonard talked over her, his eyes locked on hers. "And your parents? Is your mother a model? Given your bone structure, I value the nature-versus-nurture data points."
A bird's-eye view would have revealed a room divided against itself: one half a high-pressure arena of desperate flirting and technical jargon centered on Elena, the other a wasteland of boredom where Penny and Raj simply waited for the night to end.
On the opposite sofa, Raj sat vibrating with silent, mounting frustration. He had tried three times to enter the conversation, but his friends were a wall of noise and ego. Sheldon sat to Raj's left, looking profoundly bored. Having finished his apple juice, the theoretical physicist had decided to pass the time by clinically observing the "mating ritual" taking place across from him, his head tilting occasionally as if he were watching a particularly aggressive group of primates at the zoo.
On Raj's right, Penny sat with an expression that looked almost constipated. It was a mask of pure, concentrated disgust—or perhaps just the physical strain of trying not to scream—as she watched Howard and Leonard shamelessly crowd the new girl.
Elena felt a bead of sweat. She liked these guys—she really did—but being the sole focus of their collective hyper-fixation was like standing in front of a high-powered particle emitter.
The change was instantaneous. His shoulders dropped, his posture loosened, and he leaned across the coffee table toward Elena, a smooth, practiced smile appearing on his face.
"You know, Elena," Raj said, his voice surprisingly rich and steady, cutting through Leonard's rambling. "While my friends here are obsessing over your hardware and your bone structure, they are forgetting the most important element: the soul. As a son of India—the cradle of civilization—I feel a profound alignment with your energy."
Howard stared at him, eyes wide. "Wait, did he just go from zero to 'International Man of Mystery' in under ten seconds?"
Raj ignored him, his eyes locked on Elena. "My ancestors invented the Kamasutra, Elena. We view the dance of intimacy as a high-art form. I could show you a world of sensory experience that a simple engineer who still lives with his mother couldn't possibly comprehend." He shifted his gaze to Leonard, his lip curling. "And as for the experimental physicist? Please. A man who could never satisfy his own mother will certainly never be enough for a goddess like you."
"Okay, easy there, Rama-Lama-Ding-Dong," Howard warned, reaching over to grab Raj's arm. "Take it easy on the rum, buddy. You're starting to sound like a drunk creep."
To Raj, the comment stung. It sounded like Howard was saying he was nothing without the bottle—that his male-lines was just an illusion. To prove him wrong, Raj didn't pull away. Instead, he maintained intense eye contact with Elena, grabbed his tumbler, and drained the remaining high-proof rum in one defiant gulp. He didn't flinch. He let the liquid fire sear his throat, forcing a jagged, predatory smile to show Elena just how "manly" he could be.
He slammed the glass back onto the oak table with a heavy thud.
"Don't tell me to take it easy!" Raj snapped at Howard, dismissively waving a hand. The alcohol hit his brain like a freight train. His pupils widened, and he suddenly slid off the couch, half-stumbling until he was perched on the edge of the coffee table, directly in front of Elena's knees.
The warmth in his eyes had turned into a full-on, drunken blaze. "Anyway, as I was saying... we would make beautiful, bronzed children. You have magnificent, fertile hips, Elena." He reached out a trembling hand toward her lap. "I can see how they were built—perfectly designed to be filled. If you'll just allow me to... demonstrate the optimal pelvic alignment..."
"Whoa, easy there, Harcourt Fenton Mudd!" Howard yelled, lunging forward with Leonard to grab Raj by the shoulders before his hands could make contact.
"I have the stamina, Elena! Don't let my harmless appearance fool you!" Raj shouted as they bodily hoisted him off the table and dragged him back toward his spot on the opposite sofa.
Even as the guys dragged Raj back to his seat, Elena felt a wave of relief. The constant bombardment of questions had paused, replaced by the chaotic rustle of Howard and Leonard trying to settle a swaying, muttering Raj. She felt bad for him, but his "drunk" persona was a lot harder to handle in real life than it had appeared on a television screen.
"Since I finally have the floor," Elena said, taking a steadying breath and smoothing her silk top, "I can answer those questions. I come from Chicago. I am an orphan since I was fourteen, neither do I have any siblings. The server rack runs a localized deep-learning environment for a private project—it's high-density, though I'll likely need to upgrade it before the month is out. The gym corner is simply to keep fit; I find I need a physical outlet to balance the mental load. And as for the renovations," she gestured toward the hallway, "I'm quite fond of the new oversized soaking tub. There is nothing like a high-volume bath and my private lab space to decompress after a long day of coding."
She leaned forward slightly, her eyes bright with ambition. "I'm here to start at Caltech in September. I plan to complete my PhD in Engineering there."
"A PhD?" Howard asked, still struggling to keep a swaying Raj in his seat, Penny already had switched couches. His interest shifted instantly from her hips to her credentials. "In what specific field? Please don't say Civil Engineering."
"Hardly," Elena countered. "My focus is on Asynchronous Axial Flux Electrodynamics. I've already developed a prototype for a high-torque, rare-earth-free permanent magnet motor that achieves a ninety-eight percent efficiency rating at peak load. I'm actually using a version of it in my lab."
Sheldon emitted a small, dismissive huff from his spot. "While the pursuit of a doctorate is a commendable alternative to a life of intellectual sloth," he glanced very obviously towards Howard, "it is a tragedy to waste it on Engineering—the 'Oompa-Loompa' of the sciences. You are essentially just a highly-educated tinkerer."
Sheldon leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the room with the cold precision of a forensic accountant. "However, my interest lies less in your sub-par choice of study and more in your accounting. You mentioned you are an only child with no mentioned inheritance, yet the variables do not add up."
He began ticking points off on his long, thin fingers. "One: You wear high-end silk and designer fabrics daily, even when simply 'lounging.' Two: You have facilitated industrial-grade soundproofing and structural renovations that cost about as much as Penny earns in a fiscal year. Three: Judging by the stickers on your server rack it represents a five-figure investment in processing power. Four: You are pursuing a PhD at Caltech—not some bargain-bin state school in the Midwest—which carries a staggering tuition. And five: You claim to have a private lab with 'real-world applications.'"
He paused, his expression turning from analytical to deeply suspicious. "This level of capital-intensive lifestyle is a statistical impossibility for a student. It suggests a massive influx of external funding from... questionable sources."
Penny looked around the room, her eyes wide as she actually processed the cost of the hardware and the walls for the first time. "Wait, he's right. This stuff is seriously expensive. Are you like... a secret heiress?"
Sheldon ignored Penny, his voice rising with a hint of genuine panic. "The question is not what you have, but who you owe. Am I to expect a visit from organized crime syndicates? Because if mobsters come to this floor to abduct you for organ harvesting or to sell you into human trafficking to recoup their investment, I need a formal notice. I would prefer to vacate the premises before I accidentally witness a felony and become a liability to the cartel. My testimony would be devastatingly accurate, and I have no desire to enter the Witness Protection Program in a town that lacks a high-speed internet connection."
Elena watched the distress in Sheldon's eyes and felt a sudden, sharp realization: these weren't just quirky neighbors; they were a high-maintenance ecosystem. She needed to de-escalate, and fast, before this escalates further.
"Sheldon, please, take a breath and don't make such wild assumptions. No one is coming for my organs," Elena said, her voice dropping to a soothing, steady frequency. "As I said I code. A while ago I created three games that took of, they are now known as 'the angel games' and the micro-transactions done within those games go straight to my savings account."
Sheldon's chest stopped heaving, but he still looked skeptical. "The angel games? Yes I heard of it, that is good. With that information I don't have to worry about witnessing a crime more than earlier."
Howard whistled, finally letting go of Raj's shoulder as his jaw dropped. "Wait... you're Angel Games? I have 'Deedle Jump' on my phone right now! I've spent forty dollars on power-ups this month alone!"
"Well, thank you for the contribution," Elena said with a small, modest smile. "It went viral a few months ago. The micro-transactions performed... significantly better than my projections. I don't really have to worry about rent anymore. Or much of anything else, honestly."
Penny's face tightened. She had been sitting in the quietly watching the chaos, her expression a mask of growing resentment. She was still struggling to pay her utility bills and had just spent twenty minutes watching her friends worship a woman who was not only a genius and beautiful, but was apparently a secret tech-millionaire because people were too lazy to finish a digital puzzle.
"Wait," Penny said, her voice sounding a little strained as she clutched her glass. "You're telling me that while I'm struggling to get people to order the 'Cheesecake of the Month,' you're getting rich off people paying a dollar for a cartoon angel to prevent them of falling of an imaginable podest?"
"It's a bit of a psychological trap, I'll admit," Elena replied, feeling a twinge of guilt. "But it's what funded the server rack."
Just then, a sharp, rhythmic knock at the door echoed through the apartment.
"Food!" Howard cheered. As the delivery knock echoed through the room, Elena prepared to stand, but Howard was already in motion. He gave the swaying Raj one final, firm shove back into the sofa cushions and sprang to his feet, blocking Elena's path to the door with a theatrical bow.
"Allow me, my dear Mademoiselle," Howard said, his voice a oily purr of faux-gallantry. "A beauty such as yourself should be cared for by men. Sit, relax, and let the man of the house provide the logistics for this feast."
Elena paused, a bit taken aback. She watched as Howard retrieved the bags, the delivery was already paid, and returned to the table. He began handing out the containers with practiced efficiency, making sure Sheldon's "Szechuan Palace" order was placed precisely where it needed to be.
But the "gentleman" routine didn't extend to everyone. Once the food was distributed, Howard turned his attention to the seating arrangement. He looked at Penny, who was already feeling pushed aside.
"Hey, Penny, do you mind?" Howard asked, already eyeing the spot right next to Elena. "I would like to have my spot back."
Penny froze. She looked at her black dress—which she had worn to look impress—then at the massive oak table, and finally at the three men who were looking at Elena like she was a goddess. Being told to move was her breaking point.
"Great. That's just... great," Penny said, her voice dripping with a green spark of jealousy and wounded pride. She stood up, her jaw tight. "I have to go. I have an early shift, and unlike some people, I actually have to work for a living instead of being a 'coding-whatever' millionaire."
"Penny, wait—" Leonard started, his face full of panic as he scrambled to get up.
"No, Leonard! Stay! Enjoy your dinner!" Penny snapped. She didn't wait for a response. She turned on her heel and marched out, her heels clicking a furious, wounded rhythm against the floor.
Leonard looked like he was about to bolt after her, his eyes darting toward the door. Elena, however, reached out and put a firm hand on his shoulder, gently but surely pushing him back into the cushions.
"Leonard, stay," Elena said, her voice calm but commanding. "She's hurt and she's angry. If you go now, you'll just make it worse. Allow me."
She didn't wait for his protest. Leaving the boys with their food, Elena followed Penny out into the hallway, the steady, rhythmic click of her own shoes a calm counterpoint to the silence Penny had left behind in her wake.
She knocked on the door of 4B.
"Go away, Leonard! I mean it!" Penny's voice muffled through the wood.
"It's Elena."
There was a moment silence. Penny spat. "Go away, Elena."
Elena didn't leave. She waited three seconds, then turned the handle. The door wasn't locked. She stepped inside to find Penny standing in the middle of her living room, her face flushed and her hands shaking.
"I said leave me alone!" Penny yelled. Before Elena could speak, Penny lunged forward and shoved her hard. Elena didn't stumble; she just absorbed the impact.
"Penny, stop. I just want to talk. I don't want there to be any—"
THUD.
Without warning, Penny's hand connected with Elena's left cheek. Elena hadn't expected the escalation to turn physical. The world blurred for a split second, a sharp, throbbing heat bloom spreading across her cheekbone.
She wasn't surprised for long because Fox's instincts and temperament took over. As Penny pulled back for another swing, Elena didn't flinch. She moved with a surgical economy of motion. Her lead hand shot out, not to block, but to intercept. She caught Penny's thumb in a reinforced grip, her own fingers wrapping around the base of the joint with terrifying strength.
In one fluid, blurring motion, Elena pivoted her hips. She used Penny's own momentum against her, leveraging the thumb upward and back. The sudden, agonizing pressure on the joint forced Penny's body to follow the path of least resistance. Before Penny could even register the pain, Elena had stepped into her guard, sweeping the captured arm behind Penny's back in a high-torque hammerlock.
Elena maintained the pressure on the thumb, pinning Penny's hand against her own shoulder blade. The mechanics were absolute: the harder Penny tried to pull away, the more the joint threatened to snap. Penny gasped, her knees buckling slightly as she was forced to lean forward to keep her thumb from breaking.
"Enough!" Elena commanded, her voice low and dangerous. With effortless control, she steered a stunned Penny toward the couch, using her foot to kick the apartment door shut behind them.
She forced Penny to sit and then sat down beside her, releasing her arm but staying close enough to command the space. Elena touched her own cheek; it stung sharply.
"I know what it's like to hit a low point, Penny," Elena said, her breathing evening out. "I'm sorry if you felt ignored by the guys or thought I was enjoying that. I wasn't comfortable either. Usually, I shoot men like that down fast and hard—and if they were as annoying as those three were just now, I'd likely knock them out cold. But I actually want to have a good relationship with all of you. Even them, because I think beneath that awkward behavior, they are actually nice people."
Penny looked at her, the anger fading into a hollow sort of shame. She looked at Elena's darkening eye. "Oh my god... I just slapped a millionaire."
"You slapped a neighbor who failed to notice how uncomfortable you were at her own housewarming party," Elena corrected firmly. "And I'm sorry for that."
She paused, looking directly into Penny's tear-stained eyes to ensure the sincerity landed. "Please, accept my apology. Come back up. Eat the rest of your dinner with us and let's just... be friends having a nice time. No bragging, no flirting, no nonsense. Okay? You have to taste the cocktail I wanted to make; it's delicious! It's something I often shared with my best friend in Chicago."
Penny looked at Elena's eye, then back at her own hand, her expression softening into a tired, sheepish smile. She nodded slowly—a silent truce.
"Okay," Penny whispered. "Friends?"
"Friends," Elena agreed.
They both turned their heads toward the door at the exact same time. They could hear the faint, frantic whispering and the sound of fabric rubbing against wood from the hallway. Without a word, Penny reached out and yanked the door open with a sudden, violent pull.
Leonard and Howard, who had clearly been leaning their full weight against the door to eavesdrop, went flying. Leonard landed face-first on the carpet with a muffled "Oof!", while Howard managed a clumsy roll that ended with his face kissing Penny's shoes.
"We were just... uh... Howard pushed me!" Leonard stammered, scrambling to his feet and adjusting his glasses. His eyes went wide when he saw the form of a red hand-print forming on Elena's face. "Oh my god! Did she—"
"Really, Leonard?" Penny groaned, burying her face in her hands. "You guys have nothing better to do than spy on us?"
Elena stood up, looking down at the two "scientists" with a look of pure, clinical disappointment. "Pathetic. Both of you."
"Where's Raj?" Howard asked, looking around and realizing their trio was a duo. "He was right behind us."
"At least someone besides Sheldon not spying on women," Penny muttered.
They made their way back up to 5A. The tension had shifted from hostility to a weird, awkward camaraderie. Elena went straight to the kitchen to grab a bag of frozen peas, Penny following her to apologize again. The apartment was rather quiet with only Sheldon enjoying his food and Raj still missing.
"Raj?" Howard called out. "You in here, buddy?"
Some unidentifiable sounds echoed from the hallway, followed by a wet, slapping sound of bare feet on hardwood. A moment later, Raj emerged, and even Sheldon stopped eating.
Raj was completely naked, save for a brown fedora he'd scavenged from Elena's closet, perched rakishly on his head. He had strapped himself into Elena's black leather harness, the straps cinching against his skin. In the front, a massively oversized dildo was locked into the O-ring, despite its size and weight still standing out horizontally—positioned directly above his own, very visible, "proud" anatomy.
He held a coil of hemp rope in his right hand, loosely gripped like a bullwhip. He looked like a parodic version of a classic cinema hero.
"Where are Elena and Penny?!" Raj bellowed, —not seeing the women in the kitchen— his voice thick with rum and unearned bravado. He cracked the rope against the floor—or tried to, but it mostly just thudded limply. "I am Indian Jones! I will tie them together and pound them into oblivion at the same time!"
The silence that followed was so thick it felt physical.
Leonard's jaw didn't just drop; he actually stumbled backward until he fell onto the couch. Howard was paralyzed, his gaze locked onto the harness. As an engineer, he was stuck between being impressed by the possibilities this harness offers and the sheer horror of seeing his best friend's Ding-Dong."
"Fascinating," Sheldon murmured, ignoring the chaos. "If one considers the variables, the probability of this specific outcome is staggering. Assuming a baseline of five thousand separate decisions made by Raj since he woke up, multiplied by the 0.02% likelihood of him encountering a high-proof rum he couldn't resist, and further adjusted for the 1-in-500 chance of finding an unlocked door to a neighbor's walk-in closet containing specialized equestrian-grade leather gear..."
He paused, his head tilting 15 degrees to the left as he refined the sum.
"When you factor in the precise temporal window required for Penny and Elena as well as Howard and Leonard to be out of the room, we are looking at a combined probability of approximately 1.4×10−9."
Sheldon finally looked Raj in the eye—or rather, looked through him. "Rajesh, you realize that mathematically speaking, you are currently a statistical impossibility. One would have better odds of being struck by a meteorite while simultaneously being attacked by a shark in a freshwater lake."
Raj, ignoring him, tried to crack the rope again, nearly succeeding this time. "Bring the girls to me!"
"Raj! Stop that!" Leonard yelled, finally finding his voice, though he still refused to look up from the floor.
Penny looked at "Indian Raj", then at Sheldon and then back at Raj again and finally at Elena.
Elena stood in the kitchen doorway, the bag of frozen peas still pressed to her face. She looked at Raj—wearing her gear, her hat, one of the dildos she bought to just imagine impossible things—and wondered if she made a huge error moving into this building.
"Well," Elena said, her voice remarkably calm for a woman looking at a naked, harnessed astronomer. "Now that you've been fully initiated into this madness, Penny, do you feel any better?"
Before Penny could answer, Raj stopped looking for them and began testing the elasticity of the harness. "I am the God of Eros!" he shouted, giving a sharp, circular pelvic thrust.
The massive attachment whipped upward toward his chin, then—obeying the cruel laws of gravity and momentum—it swung back down like a wrecking ball. It caught Raj's own member squarely on the tip. Raj's eyes went wide, his breath hitching in a high-pitched squeak as he flinched.
Penny stared at the display for a long beat before whispering, "No. No, being ignored was definitely better."
Shortly after, the apartment had reached a state of exhausted equilibrium. Raj was sprawled across one of Elena's couches, snoring in a deep, rum-induced slumber, wrapped tightly in a spare duvet. Howard had managed to wrestle him back into his clothes, though Raj was still wearing the fedora, even in his sleep.
"I feel like I've stared into the abyss," Leonard muttered, nursing a fresh glass of water. "And the abyss was wearing a leather harness."
"You want to get rid of that mental image? Just imagine Penny or me wearing it while the other is waiting on the bed," Elena said in a perfect deadpan.
"Elena!" Penny shouted, scandalized. She swatted Elena's shoulder, but she was smiling. The sheer ridiculousness of the night had finally dissolved the last of the earlier tension.
"Relax, it's only to erase the mental picture. And look at their faces—it works," Elena pointed at Leonard and Howard, who both looked like their processors had suddenly overheated.
She let the silence hang for a beat before leaning forward, her expression turning serious. "But just to make it clear and avoid any future confusion: I am a lesbian, and I have a very specific interest in D/S dynamics."
The attention of the two men snapped back instantly, their eyes widening.
"Wow. I would have never thought I'd be telling you guys all this tonight," Elena added with a wry half-smile, glancing toward the hallway. "But then again, I think Raj already gave most of that away."
Suddenly, a melodic, sophisticated female voice emanated from hidden speakers in the ceiling.
"Construction complete, El. The R2 unit is mobile."
The group jumped. Leonard nearly dropped his glass, and Howard's head whipped toward the ceiling. "Uh, Elena? Is your apartment talking to us? And did it just say 'R2 unit'?"
"That's Angie," Elena said, a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "My AI. She's been overseeing the lab while we were... occupied."
"An autonomous assembly AI?" Howard asked, his engineering brain instantly overriding his trauma. "In a residential apartment? Do you have any idea how hard it is to calibrate a multi-arm assembly rig?"
Elena smiled gently. "Angie, bring him in. Let's see the results."
"Acknowledged," Angie replied. "Though I must apologize, El. The current configuration lacked the capacity for a powder-coat finish. The unit is currently in its raw, industrial state."
From the hallway leading to the lab, a low, electric whine filled the air—the distinctive, high-frequency "singing" of the turning magnets that drove the unit's core. It was accompanied by the soft, rhythmic hush-hush of heavy-duty treads making contact with the hardwood floor.
A waist-high, gleaming chrome-and-steel cylinder rolled into view. It wasn't a toy; this topped what could be seen on comic-con, its raw metal surface catching the light of the apartment.
"Is that..." Leonard squinted, leaning forward. "A life-sized R2-D2?"
"With a ninety-eight percent efficiency rating," Howard whispered, his eyes wide. He wasn't just looking at a robot; he was looking at the physical manifestation of Elena's doctoral research. He had completely forgotten about the naked man snoring on the couch.
A silver and chrome droid rolled into the living room. It was the exact silhouette of R2-D2, but stripped of its iconic blue and white paint. Instead, it was a masterpiece of raw engineering—brushed aluminum, exposed copper wiring tucked neatly into transparent conduits, and glowing blue LED sensors that pulsed like a heartbeat.
It moved with a terrifyingly smooth grace, its omnidirectional wheels whisper-quiet on the hardwood. It stopped in the center of the room, rotated its dome toward the group, and emitted a series of crisp, digital chirps.
"Oh... my... god," Leonard whispered, standing up slowly.
"It's beautiful," Howard breathed, leaning in to inspect the welding on the leg struts. "How much of this was build by your AI and what was pre-made?"
"Pretty much everything," Elena said, crossing her arms. "Well, the transistors and chips I had to buy, but everything else. Made by machine in my lab."
Sheldon stood up, walking a full circle around the droid. He poked at a sensor on the dome and pushed to robot a bit, only for it to extend its arm and waving in warning and beeping in annoyance.
"It is a fully realized, autonomous astromech droid. Elena... I take back what I said earlier about engineering. This may be a worthwhile investment of someones time."
Penny stood up, walking closer to the silver droid. She poked its dome curiously. "Wow. It's... really shiny. So, you're a fan of that space movie too? I thought that was just a 'guy' thing."
"A 'space movie'?" Sheldon repeated, his voice rising in an octave of pure physical pain. "Penny, calling Star Wars a 'space movie' is like calling the Principia Mathematica a 'book of numbers.' It is the foundational mythology of the modern age! It is the cultural mortar that holds the bricks of civilization together!"
"And it's not a 'guy thing'!" Leonard added, his voice cracking with earnestness as he scrambled to his feet. "It's a 'sentient being' thing! It's a timeless Hero's Journey that transcends gender, species, and... and even your blatant lack of interest in high-quality cinema!"
"Seriously, Penny," Howard chimed in, pointing to the R2 unit. "You're looking at an astromech droid—the unsung hero of the Rebellion! R2-D2 saved the galaxy at least five times. To call this a 'movie' is an insult to every child who ever dreamed of a binary sunset!"
Sheldon pointed a long, accusatory finger at her. "Furthermore, the R2-series astromech utilizes a versatile toolset that makes it the Swiss Army Knife of the cosmos. Elena's choice to use this specific form factor for her dissertation shows a level of reverence that I, frankly, didn't think you were capable of appreciating."
"Penny, fantasy is just a way to explore the things we can't experience in reality," Elena said gently, reaching for the bottle of rum to start the cocktails. "Think about it. Have you ever dreamed of being a famous actress or living on a private tropical island? Those are fantasies, too. People love Star Wars because, at its core, it mirrors the human condition. It's about the struggle between light and shadow, the fight against oppression. People identify with the hope."
Penny crossed her arms, looking thoughtful but still unconvinced. "I guess... but it's still just robots and glowing swords."
"True," Elena agreed, speaking quickly before the guys could launch another protest. "Just like Titanic is just a movie about a boat hitting an iceberg. Everyone has their thing. And for the record, I'm not actually a Star Wars fan. I just like to build cool things that happen to appear in movies."
She paused, letting the boys process that minor heresy.
"Actually, I've always been more of an Iron Man fan," she continued. "I love the tragedy of it—a brilliant engineer who unknowingly spends his life producing weapons that fuel wars instead of protecting people. He's nearly killed when his allies decide they've milked his genius for all it's worth, and it forces him to grow a conscience and show them that his genius can do so much more. He has to almost literally build himself a new heart to survive. It's a beautiful story."
The room went quiet. Leonard and Howard exchanged a confused, blank glance. Sheldon tilted his head, his brow furrowing in genuine bewilderment as he searched his encyclopedic memory banks.
"I'm sorry," Leonard said, scratching the back of his neck and looking genuinely lost. "While that sounds like a very compelling narrative... who is Iron Man?"
Elena froze. Her brain, usually ten steps ahead, suddenly hit a wall. She looked at their faces—blank, honest, and completely devoid of recognition. "You don't know Iron Man? Tony Stark?"
"Oh!" Howard snapped his fingers. "That guy that lives in Malibu and has another girl each day?"