She's read the task board so she's heading into the kitchen, and she's honestly a little bit surprised that someone is in here not cleaning. Once she realizes 45 seems to be baking:]
Making that for someone else...?
[Her profile might not come out and say 'robot', but there's enough strange about it that Natalie can guess, at least.]
[She's wandering around, and though the memorial hall seems like a morbid place to go... When she sees 45 instead, she stops in the doorway, tilting her head.]
Checking to see if anyone new showed up in here yet?
You got me. I wasn't sure if the body was actually Yu or a very convincing double, so I had to check.
[ Ha. ]
I do wonder why these places insist on something like this, though. [ pause. ] Well, I suppose there wasn't a direct analogue in the mansion, but I suppose the graveyard would have been similar enough.
[ if natalie isn't catching them immediately post-pileup then 45 disappears for a while, but eventually she might come across her near the laundry room, dressed in a poncho, the gatonina tie dye shirt they all woke up in, and the booty shorts, though she's at least wearing her boots instead of the sandals.
it's about as cleaned up as she's going to get, all things considered. one of the machines is rumbling worrying along, but it's fine. when someone comes in, she only spares them a brief glance, expression blankly neutral, before her usual smile makes its way across her face...
[ to that, she spreads her arms. it lifts her poncho up enough so that her legs and arms are visible, and she wiggles her fingers for emphasis. ]
Ta-da. You've seen me.
[ mostly, now that all the blood and other fluids (???) have been cleaned off of her, it just looks like mild cosmetic damage, hard to notice unless they're looking for it. whatever roomba skin is made out of in 2063, it seems decently resilient, at least?
and she's not currently wearing any of the clothing with bullet holes and jagged tears through it, so. haha? ]
[ is it arts and crafts? it feels like everyone's been in arts and crafts. it's absolutely arts and fucking crafts. everyone being here makes it supremely hard to avoid this week's effect, as it turns out.
anyway sometimes you hear someone come in and very deliberately do not look at them. ]
... Ah. I can just... go, if you wanted to make something. Or send a postcard.
As if things here are ever that convenient. But ... suit yourself.
[ by player decree i am saying that the shutter shades don't exist, else she would never be found without them just for how much more difficult actual eye contact becomes with them.
she's also knitting a scarf. there's a book next to her with the appropriate instructions. why did she pick a project that would take a while. ]
You remembered something like that? But yes, you can call it that.
[ It isn't like she has anything better to do, and I can only start so many pcs in the kitchen. In any case, nothing happens at first! Maybe social distancing is working out.
Haha, no, of course not. ]
[ the scene in front of you is painted like this: there's a girl on the ground in front of you, who'd gotten your attention by screaming and just as quickly being silenced, another with a gun around the corner, and two punks now commenting on how the girl's outer shell is just a little cracked, but she'll still sell fine. the male is holding a baseball bat in his hand as he lifts up the prone girl, so it's no mystery what happened.
these criminals you've been tracking are really quite bold, aren't they? they might be down in an alleyway, menacing two dolls who have resorted to dumpster diving for batteries and spare parts, but still... it's the middle of the day. no one's noticed you and the stray who calls herself your sister as of yet, your vantage point in the shadows remaining hidden, but you don't act just yet because you recognize the doll with the gun, who throws herself out of cover and confronts the two humans.
it's fruitless. the fact that she doesn't act immediately gives her away, and her motions are obviously meant to conserve as much power as possible, even as the humans start crowing about how another prime catch just delivered itself to them. she bluffs as much as she can, of course, talking with the pride of an elite who's been thrown away, but she's illegal now. no master, no employer, no one to give her the order that would allow her to take these two into custody.
the two of you, you and your would-be sister, reposition in the meantime. not yet. almost.
the humans realize the same thing you do, and sneer and pull their own guns- most certainly loaded, unlike the white haired doll's own. you can easily guess what it is that runs through that doll's mind. she can't do anything, but she's trying to find a solution nonetheless. without a direct order, no doll can do anything to harm a human. their own automatic control systems will forcibly terminate any offensive actions even resembling an attempt to disarm. she'd bet on them being scared off if she'd pulled a gun and threatened them, and now that they've called her bluff she's trapped.
but her pride won't let her stand down even as the situation threatens to escalate, and so you gesture-
the two humans go down, knocked unconscious by precisely thrown rocks, and you greet the doll. this isn't how you were intending to deal with these two today, really you'd rather have allowed them to go on their way and tailed them back to their hideout to root out the rest, but, well, with things as they were obviously your hand has been forced. 9 checks on the doll on the ground, and reports that although she's still functional, her surface thoughts can't be picked up, and her body's taken severe damage... using your name. oh well.
the doll you're speaking to recognizes you too, once it's said. you're almost surprised, considering how dismissive she'd been the last and only time you'd ever met. it's not a very productive conversation the two of you have, between her demanding to know what you're doing here, hurling verbal abuse and threatening to break your necks in order to get answers as if the concept of being civil doesn't even exist in her mind. the topic moves along towards the subject of that mission, and if it wasn't clear before then you're now certain this conversation will go nowhere.
she demands to know what happened on the mission. it failed, you respond. everyone died. it's that simple.
she demands to know what happened to m16, the one who'd kicked her off the squad before the mission even began in order to protect you, and you don't laugh. you respond that m16 was most likely recovered by some research group, and that maybe it's for the best that she got kicked off, hm? after all, it means she's alive enough to have the chance to bristle pointlessly at you now.
(unlike your sister, unlike everyone else who went, because none of them were supposed to come out alive. because someone had sabotaged it from the start, and cleaned up any loose ends that would point back to them.)
but of course she's stuck on this one thing. by the way she goes on about her slighted pride, you're sure it's the only thing that's kept her going through having to scavenge and scrounge for scraps to keep herself alive. it'd almost be admirable if it weren't such a flagrant example of self-delusion. she's not like you, she insists, as if what you all are, illegal dolls with neither employers nor masters through no fault of their own, is something dirty and shameful. she's better than you. her current state is only temporary. she'll find a way to return to the company that cast her out, stripped her of her fire control core and any network permissions she had... somehow. by sheer willpower, self-righteous indignation, and nothing else apparently, by the way she's talking. the fact that she managed to keep her gun is interesting enough, but as she is right now, it's a useless lump of metal.
... really, it's irritating. she keeps talking, but...
"whether you were originally designed as a tactical doll or a toaster," you cut in, "it's plain to see that you're not being very successful as either of them. fortunately for you, i happen to have connections that can help you acquire a fire control core and ammunition... but not for free, of course. if you're willing to work with me for a bit, i'll help you get what you want in exchange, how's that sound?"
"... are you kidding me? i'd never make such a deal with you!"
not unexpected, so obviously you have to try harder. "and what about that doll on the ground? didn't you want to save her just now? i can add another condition and make her repair part of the terms of our deal."
"and if i said no? would you just leave her to die?"
"of course." of course not, but she doesn't need to know that.
"you bitch! i've always hated you, but i've never hated you more than this very moment! what gave a selfish, useless doll like you the right to stay in the team when i wasn't? what gives you the right to decide someone else's life or death right now?!"
"well, i have to say, you still don't seem to understand your situation." you keep smiling, even as your tone grows edged. "i've stayed polite all this while i've been talking to you, but that doesn't mean i'm not angry." with one hand, you gesture at the doll your sister is still tending to. "did you save her just now? all you did was wish that you could do it. if i hadn't done anything just now, the two of you would be the catch of the early morning doll black market.
"you're just looking at everything that happens in this world in a self-absorbed way, still lost in your childish thoughts about how other people have personally wronged you. you have no idea what went into saving you, and you have no idea about what actually happened back then. all you know is to whine about this and whine about that, as if that will actually accomplish something," you say, unslinging your gun and shouldering it, pointing it directly between her eyes. "perhaps someone like you really ought to disappear after all?"
9 glances up, sounding surprised. "huh? wait, 45, are you really going to shoot? didn't you say earlier that you wanted to save as many dolls as you could..."
......... "shut up, 9." even if that's true, you're trying to make a point here.
"okie..."
but the doll in front of you doesn't respond in any way other than continuing to glare silently at you, and after a long moment, you wonder if she isn't just a lost cause. you've made your offer, thrown her a rope. if she chooses not to take it that's up to her.
"... i'll let you off today," you say, and lower your gun. "you can leave with that doll on the ground over there. it was never my business to begin with, after all."
she immediately takes the chance to sprint over to the doll on the ground, checking over the visible injuries before you turn away and start to leave, 9 following nervously behind you. just before you do leave the area entirely, however:
"ump45! why have you lived on like this?! why are you running from your past, from your former friends, and scraping out a miserable existence in this illegal gray area?! if my thoughts are childish, then do you really think that what you're doing is considered mature?!"
... you stop. really, is that what she thinks you're doing? she thinks that this was a choice? "i didn't choose to run away, and i didn't choose to live a miserable life."
"then what are you doing now?" she challenges.
what are you doing now? "i'm going to find the culprit who killed everyone and killed my sister. i've taken steps to recover weapons that i can use to fight, obtain better modules, and even find a friend i'm willing to work with. i haven't been getting by the way you have, with just a mouth that only knows how to spout nonsense! what exactly have you been doing? searching for batteries every day to keep yourself topped off like a cheap cell phone?"
the doll balks, but retorts, "that... i can do that too!"
then why hasn't she? "do you have a credit account?" you challenge. "can you find someone to maintain your body for you? can you alter your baseline access authorization to protect yourself? can you find weapons and ammo to keep fighting? have you done anything to further that lofty goal of yours? what can you do? you can't do anything!"
"there'll be a way..." she denies hotly, shaking her head. "i'll find a way out of this!"
"you're just lying to yourself," you snap. "you talk about wanting to go back and find her, but you can't even protect that illegal doll by your side! what can you accomplish just by wanting something?"
if wanting were all it took, your sister would be alive. ]
[After so many visitors who won't take no for an answer, the door to deer cabin is propped open. That means it's rapidly growing colder and colder inside, but Natalie can't really bring herself to mind it right now. Should 45 enter, she's laying on her bed, facing the wall so she doesn't have to interact immediately with anybody who enters.
[ cool, she's not going to say anything at first, either. in fact she initially hadn't been intending to stop by at all; she's neither that close to natalie, nor did she particularly know any of the victims that natalie was close to that well. by all rights, her presence should be unwelcome, and imposing herself on someone who's obviously not going to be having a great time of it already is presumptuous at best, nosy and invasive if not.
but the door is propped open, and a few different algorithms run their course before she edges in carefully, expression blanked. ]
... Hey. You weren't the one who propped open the door, were you?
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w0, tuesday.
She's read the task board so she's heading into the kitchen, and she's honestly a little bit surprised that someone is in here not cleaning. Once she realizes 45 seems to be baking:]
Making that for someone else...?
[Her profile might not come out and say 'robot', but there's enough strange about it that Natalie can guess, at least.]
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[ she's not going to deny it, it's an open enough secret around here with people like akira around. ]
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I suppose you could say I have an academic interest in the process? It's not something I often get the chance to do.
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...An academic interest in baking?
[There's a tilt of her head, slightly surprised and a bit curious.]
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w1, saturday.
Checking to see if anyone new showed up in here yet?
[Ha.]
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[ Ha. ]
I do wonder why these places insist on something like this, though. [ pause. ] Well, I suppose there wasn't a direct analogue in the mansion, but I suppose the graveyard would have been similar enough.
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[Ha... Bad.]
Pretty creepy, though, right? No matter what place it's inspired by.
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[ just a bunch of candles in a small and cramped room. no ventilation concerns here, right. ]
... Fairly tasteless this time around, though. What are they supposed to be, puppets?
[ none eyes, empty on the inside. wow it's a metaphor for how dead inside they all are. ]
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[She does not like it at all.]
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FRIDAY, w2 post-invest/announcements/etc;
it's about as cleaned up as she's going to get, all things considered. one of the machines is rumbling worrying along, but it's fine. when someone comes in, she only spares them a brief glance, expression blankly neutral, before her usual smile makes its way across her face...
though it's surprisingly wan, maybe. ]
Did you need something?
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[Ah, blunt as ever.]
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[ to that, she spreads her arms. it lifts her poncho up enough so that her legs and arms are visible, and she wiggles her fingers for emphasis. ]
Ta-da. You've seen me.
[ mostly, now that all the blood and other fluids (???) have been cleaned off of her, it just looks like mild cosmetic damage, hard to notice unless they're looking for it. whatever roomba skin is made out of in 2063, it seems decently resilient, at least?
and she's not currently wearing any of the clothing with bullet holes and jagged tears through it, so. haha? ]
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Okay, to talk to you about it. Better?
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[ ... ]
There really isn't much to say about it, though. But sure. Where do you want me to start?
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WEDNESDAY, w3 hell if i know where;
anyway sometimes you hear someone come in and very deliberately do not look at them. ]
... Ah. I can just... go, if you wanted to make something. Or send a postcard.
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[Probably.]
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[ by player decree i am saying that the shutter shades don't exist, else she would never be found without them just for how much more difficult actual eye contact becomes with them.
she's also knitting a scarf. there's a book next to her with the appropriate instructions. why did she pick a project that would take a while. ]
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Another experiment, huh?
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[ It isn't like she has anything better to do, and I can only start so many pcs in the kitchen. In any case, nothing happens at first! Maybe social distancing is working out.
Haha, no, of course not. ]
these criminals you've been tracking are really quite bold, aren't they? they might be down in an alleyway, menacing two dolls who have resorted to dumpster diving for batteries and spare parts, but still... it's the middle of the day. no one's noticed you and the stray who calls herself your sister as of yet, your vantage point in the shadows remaining hidden, but you don't act just yet because you recognize the doll with the gun, who throws herself out of cover and confronts the two humans.
it's fruitless. the fact that she doesn't act immediately gives her away, and her motions are obviously meant to conserve as much power as possible, even as the humans start crowing about how another prime catch just delivered itself to them. she bluffs as much as she can, of course, talking with the pride of an elite who's been thrown away, but she's illegal now. no master, no employer, no one to give her the order that would allow her to take these two into custody.
the two of you, you and your would-be sister, reposition in the meantime. not yet. almost.
the humans realize the same thing you do, and sneer and pull their own guns- most certainly loaded, unlike the white haired doll's own. you can easily guess what it is that runs through that doll's mind. she can't do anything, but she's trying to find a solution nonetheless. without a direct order, no doll can do anything to harm a human. their own automatic control systems will forcibly terminate any offensive actions even resembling an attempt to disarm. she'd bet on them being scared off if she'd pulled a gun and threatened them, and now that they've called her bluff she's trapped.
but her pride won't let her stand down even as the situation threatens to escalate, and so you gesture-
the two humans go down, knocked unconscious by precisely thrown rocks, and you greet the doll. this isn't how you were intending to deal with these two today, really you'd rather have allowed them to go on their way and tailed them back to their hideout to root out the rest, but, well, with things as they were obviously your hand has been forced. 9 checks on the doll on the ground, and reports that although she's still functional, her surface thoughts can't be picked up, and her body's taken severe damage... using your name. oh well.
the doll you're speaking to recognizes you too, once it's said. you're almost surprised, considering how dismissive she'd been the last and only time you'd ever met. it's not a very productive conversation the two of you have, between her demanding to know what you're doing here, hurling verbal abuse and threatening to break your necks in order to get answers as if the concept of being civil doesn't even exist in her mind. the topic moves along towards the subject of that mission, and if it wasn't clear before then you're now certain this conversation will go nowhere.
she demands to know what happened on the mission. it failed, you respond. everyone died. it's that simple.
she demands to know what happened to m16, the one who'd kicked her off the squad before the mission even began in order to protect you, and you don't laugh. you respond that m16 was most likely recovered by some research group, and that maybe it's for the best that she got kicked off, hm? after all, it means she's alive enough to have the chance to bristle pointlessly at you now.
(unlike your sister, unlike everyone else who went, because none of them were supposed to come out alive. because someone had sabotaged it from the start, and cleaned up any loose ends that would point back to them.)
but of course she's stuck on this one thing. by the way she goes on about her slighted pride, you're sure it's the only thing that's kept her going through having to scavenge and scrounge for scraps to keep herself alive. it'd almost be admirable if it weren't such a flagrant example of self-delusion. she's not like you, she insists, as if what you all are, illegal dolls with neither employers nor masters through no fault of their own, is something dirty and shameful. she's better than you. her current state is only temporary. she'll find a way to return to the company that cast her out, stripped her of her fire control core and any network permissions she had... somehow. by sheer willpower, self-righteous indignation, and nothing else apparently, by the way she's talking. the fact that she managed to keep her gun is interesting enough, but as she is right now, it's a useless lump of metal.
... really, it's irritating. she keeps talking, but...
"whether you were originally designed as a tactical doll or a toaster," you cut in, "it's plain to see that you're not being very successful as either of them. fortunately for you, i happen to have connections that can help you acquire a fire control core and ammunition... but not for free, of course. if you're willing to work with me for a bit, i'll help you get what you want in exchange, how's that sound?"
"... are you kidding me? i'd never make such a deal with you!"
not unexpected, so obviously you have to try harder. "and what about that doll on the ground? didn't you want to save her just now? i can add another condition and make her repair part of the terms of our deal."
"and if i said no? would you just leave her to die?"
"of course." of course not, but she doesn't need to know that.
"you bitch! i've always hated you, but i've never hated you more than this very moment! what gave a selfish, useless doll like you the right to stay in the team when i wasn't? what gives you the right to decide someone else's life or death right now?!"
"well, i have to say, you still don't seem to understand your situation." you keep smiling, even as your tone grows edged. "i've stayed polite all this while i've been talking to you, but that doesn't mean i'm not angry." with one hand, you gesture at the doll your sister is still tending to. "did you save her just now? all you did was wish that you could do it. if i hadn't done anything just now, the two of you would be the catch of the early morning doll black market.
"you're just looking at everything that happens in this world in a self-absorbed way, still lost in your childish thoughts about how other people have personally wronged you. you have no idea what went into saving you, and you have no idea about what actually happened back then. all you know is to whine about this and whine about that, as if that will actually accomplish something," you say, unslinging your gun and shouldering it, pointing it directly between her eyes. "perhaps someone like you really ought to disappear after all?"
9 glances up, sounding surprised. "huh? wait, 45, are you really going to shoot? didn't you say earlier that you wanted to save as many dolls as you could..."
......... "shut up, 9." even if that's true, you're trying to make a point here.
"okie..."
but the doll in front of you doesn't respond in any way other than continuing to glare silently at you, and after a long moment, you wonder if she isn't just a lost cause. you've made your offer, thrown her a rope. if she chooses not to take it that's up to her.
"... i'll let you off today," you say, and lower your gun. "you can leave with that doll on the ground over there. it was never my business to begin with, after all."
she immediately takes the chance to sprint over to the doll on the ground, checking over the visible injuries before you turn away and start to leave, 9 following nervously behind you. just before you do leave the area entirely, however:
"ump45! why have you lived on like this?! why are you running from your past, from your former friends, and scraping out a miserable existence in this illegal gray area?! if my thoughts are childish, then do you really think that what you're doing is considered mature?!"
... you stop. really, is that what she thinks you're doing? she thinks that this was a choice? "i didn't choose to run away, and i didn't choose to live a miserable life."
"then what are you doing now?" she challenges.
what are you doing now? "i'm going to find the culprit who killed everyone and killed my sister. i've taken steps to recover weapons that i can use to fight, obtain better modules, and even find a friend i'm willing to work with. i haven't been getting by the way you have, with just a mouth that only knows how to spout nonsense! what exactly have you been doing? searching for batteries every day to keep yourself topped off like a cheap cell phone?"
the doll balks, but retorts, "that... i can do that too!"
then why hasn't she? "do you have a credit account?" you challenge. "can you find someone to maintain your body for you? can you alter your baseline access authorization to protect yourself? can you find weapons and ammo to keep fighting? have you done anything to further that lofty goal of yours? what can you do? you can't do anything!"
"there'll be a way..." she denies hotly, shaking her head. "i'll find a way out of this!"
"you're just lying to yourself," you snap. "you talk about wanting to go back and find her, but you can't even protect that illegal doll by your side! what can you accomplish just by wanting something?"
if wanting were all it took, your sister would be alive. ]
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w3, friday.
She doesn't say anything yet.]
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but the door is propped open, and a few different algorithms run their course before she edges in carefully, expression blanked. ]
... Hey. You weren't the one who propped open the door, were you?
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[So, yes, it was.]
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What are they going to do, break down the door?
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[And she didn't want to be alone, not really. That part goes unsaid, though.]
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