[ because he comes to the lake here for the same reasons!! peace! and to be away from people. i'm just gonna say he's sat under a tree and has some kind of coat on because i keep forgetting there are umbrellas in the camp store. ]
yeah, probably neither of them are going to be picking up a fishing pole any time soon. for what it's worth, she's still standing out in the rain a respectable enough distance from him, just close enough to be heard without having to make an effort at it. social distancing.
but you know, it's not like keeping this much of a distance actually helps. ]
Please, we can at least try to avoid something quite as widespread.
[ huh. well, while she gets to deal with a mild enough sort of dramatic reveal, unfortunately for ash, becks requested baby trauma, so here's the beginning of baby roomba trauma.
before the full memory of a factory, (until 3:53) alarms blaring, situation in chaos and hostiles (including ones who shouldn't have been) around every corner, blooms into being.
[ the sneakiest of mems. and don't worry, there's more.
well. picking and prying at memories isn't really his deal, as he doesn't want people prying at his own already, but... that's a lot happening there. so he just ... well. maybe he's touching on the most difficult part here, but-- ]
That a friend of yours?
[ -- but, hey. this place is a bitch and it's not quite done yet (5:02 - 7:58) ]
[ it takes her a moment to filter and recalibrate, the smile dropping from her face to leave something a little more blanked, a little more neutral even if the expression seems out of place. ]
What? No, 40 was—
[ aaaaand for fuck's sake, memshares. apparently it's trading like for like and also! i no longer have videos to link because none translated videos of this flashback exist on youtube so!!! i guess!!! i have to write this out instead!!
the memory is corrupted, blocked and degraded somehow in signal quality. white noise and static threads around the edges of the brief snatches he gets, echoes of 40's voice youhavetherighttoliveonthisisthebestpossibleending and visage flashing by, stutter-skipping therightchoicesarealwaystheonesthathurtyouthemost like a hung process-
"do you want to die with me so badly? ... go on. the time has come to rewrite our fate."
this image stays a bit longer than the others: your sister steadies your gun for you. her dogtags burn painfully in your palm despite your temperature sensors reporting otherwise, and you think you might be screaming as the muzzle flashes.
but then it, too, cuts off into static, resuming and stabilizing only with the sight of the main corridor of the ruined factory, smoke in the air and blood on the walls, the knowledge that the main door isn't too far off barely keeping you on your feet. if you can just make it there, you can live on. that is your only hope.
"i thought... there wouldn't be any more survivors."
there are dolls collapsed in front the gate ahead of you, but the leader of team 7, m16, leans on the wall blocking the way to the main gate, functional if in less than pristine condition. a flicker of fear runs through your code without reason. "you recognize me?"
"what do you think?"
not an hour ago, you trusted her like you would have trusted any of your teammates. nothing now indicates that you shouldn't, but... "i don't know. there's s.f. everywhere. there's too many enemies, and i don't even know what happened."
it is the first time you have ever lied. you know too well what happened. just not enough.
m16 grins, wryly. "well, i'm in a pretty sorry state myself. but hey, think you can open this door, member of support team 14?"
tentatively, you nod. "i think i can." the door terminal is simple enough; you can hack and manipulate it the same way you had during the mission by forcing a connection. it's a brief thing, and... "all right. ready to go?"
"thanks," says m16 as she walks past. "i guess i lucked..."
she trails off abruptly, turning slowly towards you, gaze going cold and glassy in a way that's unnatural. there's no way it can't be. there's no other way to explain it.
how deep does this all go? who sent you to die? m16 had been kind to them, that one time in passing. is this still the same doll? it can't be. her tone when she speaks is like ice, compared to the warmth from just a moment ago. there are dolls on the floor all around you. there are bullet holes in their backs.
who's responsible for this?
"say, where's that doll you were always following around? her name was ump40, right?"
your hand fists around the dogtags clutched tightly in your palm. "she died," you say, as evenly as you can.
(you killed her. you killed her. she asked you to, but you killed her. and all she asked from you in return...)
"so..." says m16, drawing out the word. "why is it that you aren't even the slightest bit hurt, huh?"
the silence afterwards lasts less than a second before it's broken, and you don't know which one of you was the first to react. both of you fire at once, and as your bullets race out, you both dive for cover. you're not unscathed, but you can still move. the radio she left you blocked the shot that came closest to anything critical ... again, 40 saved you.
"the answer is simple, then. you did it," says m16, the declaration ringing out with a damning finality. "the alarms, s.f., the escape of the target. come out with your hands up. as a comrade, i'll make it quick and clean."
... yes, she's right. yes, you ought to take responsibility for this.
yes, you should have died.
they'd meant to use you, a disposable pawn they could throw away to erase the evidence of their wrongdoing. you only escaped that fate because 40 had...
"so... even you want to kill me?"
"don't bother struggling. i'm sure you know your odds."
you fight to raise your gun. "the only thing i know... is 'what's right.' there's a reason i have to leave here today. i must survive, no matter the cost!"
"you can go to hell with your reason, traitor!"
(the only thing your sister had asked of you was to live) ]
A squad shrouded in mystery. ▓▓▓▓▒ has met them once, and others can only guess at the members' identities from rumors. Members of the squad all have advanced AI and high capacity for independent operation. Rumor has it that Squad 404 usually deals with ░▓▒▓▓▓▒▓▓▒▒▒░░
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no subject
Date: 2020-07-05 05:34 pm (UTC)You got a fishing pole so we can find out?
no subject
Date: 2020-07-05 05:43 pm (UTC)[ she just jabs in the direction of the lakeside cabin with the thumb of her free hand. ]
Did I interrupt anything?
no subject
Date: 2020-07-05 06:47 pm (UTC)[ i suspect neither of them are moving to pick up a fishing pole any time soon. ]
Nah. Other than me avoiding people, which you ruined spectacularly but that ain't your fault.
no subject
Date: 2020-07-05 07:06 pm (UTC)[ but fools rarely differ. so what are they, hm?
yeah, probably neither of them are going to be picking up a fishing pole any time soon. for what it's worth, she's still standing out in the rain a respectable enough distance from him, just close enough to be heard without having to make an effort at it. social distancing.
but you know, it's not like keeping this much of a distance actually helps. ]
This weekend's going to be a pain, isn't it.
no subject
Date: 2020-07-05 07:32 pm (UTC)If we keep up our stellar track record so fair, then yeah. It's gonna be complicated, I'm pretty sure.
Think we'll solve it?
no subject
Date: 2020-07-05 07:37 pm (UTC)[ that's her bet. ]
If we're lucky we'll avoid a scene like this corresponding week's execution in the mansion, though.
[ can you believe w3 blues and the memshare conga line was that long ago. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-07-05 08:47 pm (UTC)[ i feel the same tiredness now i felt in blues with memshare, the week i am most powerful and also most tired. ]
Hm. Don't bet on it, I've already had run ins.
[ and, y'know. for the sake of irony and perfect timing, here's a memory (2:22 - 4:01). it's like it was just waiting for the right moment. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-07-05 11:01 pm (UTC)[ huh. well, while she gets to deal with a mild enough sort of dramatic reveal, unfortunately for ash, becks requested baby trauma, so here's the beginning of baby roomba trauma.
it might sneak up on him, an aural memory with no corresponding visual input (7:40 - 8:30) creeping in first?
before the full memory of a factory, (until 3:53) alarms blaring, situation in chaos and hostiles (including ones who shouldn't have been) around every corner, blooms into being.
hm, these mems sure are sneaky, huh. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-07-06 03:55 pm (UTC)well. picking and prying at memories isn't really his deal, as he doesn't want people prying at his own already, but... that's a lot happening there. so he just ... well. maybe he's touching on the most difficult part here, but-- ]
That a friend of yours?
[ -- but, hey. this place is a bitch and it's not quite done yet (5:02 - 7:58) ]
no subject
Date: 2020-07-07 03:43 am (UTC)What? No, 40 was—
[ aaaaand for fuck's sake, memshares. apparently it's trading like for like and also! i no longer have videos to link because none translated videos of this flashback exist on youtube so!!! i guess!!! i have to write this out instead!!
the memory is corrupted, blocked and degraded somehow in signal quality. white noise and static threads around the edges of the brief snatches he gets, echoes of 40's voice youhavetherighttoliveonthisisthebestpossibleending and visage flashing by, stutter-skipping therightchoicesarealwaystheonesthathurtyouthemost like a hung process-
"do you want to die with me so badly? ... go on. the time has come to rewrite our fate."
this image stays a bit longer than the others: your sister steadies your gun for you. her dogtags burn painfully in your palm despite your temperature sensors reporting otherwise, and you think you might be screaming as the muzzle flashes.
but then it, too, cuts off into static, resuming and stabilizing only with the sight of the main corridor of the ruined factory, smoke in the air and blood on the walls, the knowledge that the main door isn't too far off barely keeping you on your feet. if you can just make it there, you can live on. that is your only hope.
"i thought... there wouldn't be any more survivors."
there are dolls collapsed in front the gate ahead of you, but the leader of team 7, m16, leans on the wall blocking the way to the main gate, functional if in less than pristine condition. a flicker of fear runs through your code without reason. "you recognize me?"
"what do you think?"
not an hour ago, you trusted her like you would have trusted any of your teammates. nothing now indicates that you shouldn't, but... "i don't know. there's s.f. everywhere. there's too many enemies, and i don't even know what happened."
it is the first time you have ever lied. you know too well what happened. just not enough.
m16 grins, wryly. "well, i'm in a pretty sorry state myself. but hey, think you can open this door, member of support team 14?"
tentatively, you nod. "i think i can." the door terminal is simple enough; you can hack and manipulate it the same way you had during the mission by forcing a connection. it's a brief thing, and... "all right. ready to go?"
"thanks," says m16 as she walks past. "i guess i lucked..."
she trails off abruptly, turning slowly towards you, gaze going cold and glassy in a way that's unnatural. there's no way it can't be. there's no other way to explain it.
how deep does this all go? who sent you to die? m16 had been kind to them, that one time in passing. is this still the same doll? it can't be. her tone when she speaks is like ice, compared to the warmth from just a moment ago. there are dolls on the floor all around you. there are bullet holes in their backs.
who's responsible for this?
"say, where's that doll you were always following around? her name was ump40, right?"
your hand fists around the dogtags clutched tightly in your palm. "she died," you say, as evenly as you can.
(you killed her. you killed her. she asked you to, but you killed her. and all she asked from you in return...)
"so..." says m16, drawing out the word. "why is it that you aren't even the slightest bit hurt, huh?"
the silence afterwards lasts less than a second before it's broken, and you don't know which one of you was the first to react. both of you fire at once, and as your bullets race out, you both dive for cover. you're not unscathed, but you can still move. the radio she left you blocked the shot that came closest to anything critical ... again, 40 saved you.
"the answer is simple, then. you did it," says m16, the declaration ringing out with a damning finality. "the alarms, s.f., the escape of the target. come out with your hands up. as a comrade, i'll make it quick and clean."
... yes, she's right. yes, you ought to take responsibility for this.
yes, you should have died.
they'd meant to use you, a disposable pawn they could throw away to erase the evidence of their wrongdoing. you only escaped that fate because 40 had...
"so... even you want to kill me?"
"don't bother struggling. i'm sure you know your odds."
you fight to raise your gun. "the only thing i know... is 'what's right.' there's a reason i have to leave here today. i must survive, no matter the cost!"
"you can go to hell with your reason, traitor!"
(the only thing your sister had asked of you was to live) ]