((Continued from Framejacking))
Anthony stepped cautiously into the building.
He did everything cautiously. Ate, drank, slept, thought. Rather too much of the latter, and painfully little of the rest. Every step was a turned ankle laying beneath the cover of flat snow, every corner a firing corridor. On the whole, nothing happened. That didn't mean his caution was unjustified. Nor did it mean that it was panacea against the ills of this place. It simply was.
Just like this little place. Plain, unpretentious. Utilitarian. Here was where a handful of formerly-useful machines lived, as he might quaintly put it in his early years, or in his current years if we were trying to tease a reaction out of someone. The life they didn't live was simple, though, marvel as they were.
Dolphins couldn't form a civilization because they couldn't make fire. They also had no hands, which didn't help. But there wasn't that level of energy you needed to bend the environment to your will, to rise above the carrying capacity of X beings shoving Y amount of smaller beings into their mouths within Z unit of area. To form and refine and reify arbitrary notions of space and time into concrete (or metal, as it were) units of commerce and knowledge that couldn't be un-forged without commensurate power. You could be as smart as you wanted, but it availed you nothing if it didn't let you build anything with it. Here was the accomplishment of man in its utter mundanity, screaming mechanical things that would blast across snowscapes with bodies refined through heat and quickened by dozens of controlled explosions every second. You could do amazing things with the application of fire, like fly a bunch of kids across the fucking ocean and pen them all up and tell them to have at each other.
He sighed and unshouldered his bag. It seemed right to come here, especially laden as he was with a machine hiding a bank of capacitors nestled within his bag. This, despite the knowledge that they'd find only cold mechanical corpses here if they were lucky, and cold fleshy ones if they weren't. Maybe someone to convert into the latter, if they hit on some indeterminate middle ground. He really ought to stop thinking so much.
"Hey," he called to his companion, bound as he was to that grisly promise by virtue of 'sure why not,' "You suppose there's anything useful in here?"
Ineptus Mechanicus
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Rattlesnake
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- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
((Continued from dissociating.))
"Maybe some blunt to commit force-trauma with."
Bad pun. Terrible Pun.
It was a dissociation session for John - and they just came in.
That's why there's not much here. Just...no thoughts. Whatsoever.
"I wonder if we can make a bomb."
"Maybe some blunt to commit force-trauma with."
Bad pun. Terrible Pun.
It was a dissociation session for John - and they just came in.
That's why there's not much here. Just...no thoughts. Whatsoever.
"I wonder if we can make a bomb."
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Rattlesnake
- Posts: 346
- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
"Bomb?"
He paused a second, gave his collar a thoughtful tap. "Got one of those already," he mused, "though I suppose that's not worth much right now. Maybe on someone else, but... I dunno, I suspect the big man would be happy about that. Can't think of much else you'd use for something like that."
Deliberate and reasoned as it was, it never got any easier to square in his mind the facts of the situation with the logical path through it all. Like two vectors which, summed up, ended behind the origin of either of them. Obviously in a time like this, it was prudent to lay an emphasis on self-defense, but of course, self-defense against what? And, really, with the prospect of explosives involved, that was more accurately: offensive against whom?
He shrugged.
"Can't stop thinking about how this thing in my bag is loaded with enough batteries to restart your heart. Like, hitting someone with it can't be the only thing you can do with that, right?"
He paused a second, gave his collar a thoughtful tap. "Got one of those already," he mused, "though I suppose that's not worth much right now. Maybe on someone else, but... I dunno, I suspect the big man would be happy about that. Can't think of much else you'd use for something like that."
Deliberate and reasoned as it was, it never got any easier to square in his mind the facts of the situation with the logical path through it all. Like two vectors which, summed up, ended behind the origin of either of them. Obviously in a time like this, it was prudent to lay an emphasis on self-defense, but of course, self-defense against what? And, really, with the prospect of explosives involved, that was more accurately: offensive against whom?
He shrugged.
"Can't stop thinking about how this thing in my bag is loaded with enough batteries to restart your heart. Like, hitting someone with it can't be the only thing you can do with that, right?"
"You can be like that really lame boss from the Batman Arkham series. The one you just one-hit K/O to get the shock gloves. Like that, but much more effective."
Whoops. The ADHD mask slipped. Better fix that right away.
"Yeah, well...I don't really want to be that effective at hurting people anyways." They put a hand on the back of their neck. "U-unless it's self-defense, then we'll do what's needed. But, man. This shit really blows, dunnit?"
I mean it really blew. John couldn't stop being stressed. They thought at some point they might get over it but...not really. Nope. Nada.
"Blows up. Like...like a bomb."
Slightly distasteful, and the regret shows on John's face, but they laugh anyways. Slightly. More like a chuckle.
Whoops. The ADHD mask slipped. Better fix that right away.
"Yeah, well...I don't really want to be that effective at hurting people anyways." They put a hand on the back of their neck. "U-unless it's self-defense, then we'll do what's needed. But, man. This shit really blows, dunnit?"
I mean it really blew. John couldn't stop being stressed. They thought at some point they might get over it but...not really. Nope. Nada.
"Blows up. Like...like a bomb."
Slightly distasteful, and the regret shows on John's face, but they laugh anyways. Slightly. More like a chuckle.
Okay, maybe a little too distasteful. I mean, we're in a death game. In the few seconds between John's statement and Anthony's response, their mind starts to race a little. Maybe they're being too weird.
Too...friendly?
Too eager?
John just wants some friends in the death game.
Too...friendly?
Too eager?
John just wants some friends in the death game.
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Rattlesnake
- Posts: 346
- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
"My brother in Christ, we are discussing options to beat murderers at their own game."
Anthony paused a second, shook his head, laughed just a little. He meant it sincerely, in both meanings simultaneously in their oblique angles to each other. The pure semantics of the rebuke, and the deliberate hyperbolic construction hinting that, hey, is only jokes. Really, it was nice to have someone on his side in... whatever the hell he thought he was doing. People you hinted to that murder was starting to look like a reasonable reaction and who responded with a general 'sure why not' didn't exactly grow on trees.
"Anyway, I think I'm still on team 'find something with a lot of leverage because Archimedes is a cold sonavabitch' myself. Speaking of, I think a bit of a deeper look around might be in order."
Anthony paused a second, shook his head, laughed just a little. He meant it sincerely, in both meanings simultaneously in their oblique angles to each other. The pure semantics of the rebuke, and the deliberate hyperbolic construction hinting that, hey, is only jokes. Really, it was nice to have someone on his side in... whatever the hell he thought he was doing. People you hinted to that murder was starting to look like a reasonable reaction and who responded with a general 'sure why not' didn't exactly grow on trees.
"Anyway, I think I'm still on team 'find something with a lot of leverage because Archimedes is a cold sonavabitch' myself. Speaking of, I think a bit of a deeper look around might be in order."
"Archimedes is such a mouthful of a name."
John said this, while starting to search the room, not really announcing they began.
"Plus. The LARP attached to it, man. If you're going to be LARPy, why not use an anime name. Just lean into the cringey names - and I say this as someone who's watched more than one anime series. Or..maybe a Metal Gear Character."
Oooh. Now they're thinking about Metal Gear.
"I'd want to be Raiden, but something tells me I'd probably be Otacon."
John said this, while starting to search the room, not really announcing they began.
"Plus. The LARP attached to it, man. If you're going to be LARPy, why not use an anime name. Just lean into the cringey names - and I say this as someone who's watched more than one anime series. Or..maybe a Metal Gear Character."
Oooh. Now they're thinking about Metal Gear.
"I'd want to be Raiden, but something tells me I'd probably be Otacon."
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Rattlesnake
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- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
Anthony chuckled to himself at that bit of levity, though half the words meant as little to him as his little quip apparently had to his companion. Metal Gear mostly made him think of that image with the title Revolver Ocelot and captioned Revolver Ocelot with a subtitle of Revolver Ocelot, possibly with some dialogue of Revolver ocelot saying Revolver Ocelot, the subject being portrayed in the image left as an exercise to the reader. That, and the Discord Reaction Gif Guy.
"Never actually played the games," he mused, pushing past some idle machinery, "But I do know that one guy's source is that he made it the fuck up, and that's canon and I won't hear otherwise oh fuck."
There, sprawled before him, was everything that made a human except the most important part. The part that, strictly speaking, was probably some emergent illusion that didn't actually exist.
It was a dead person.
She—it didn't jump out. There was no scare chord, no Hell's Kitchen waterphone, no dramatic pitching and shifting of his vision. It simply... existed. And, you know, didn't. But, as much as the aging detritus of the island's former habitation sat in wait whether he anticipated it or not, so did the object that had once housed a soul. Moving a bit closer, the pooling of blood in the tissue laying nearer the ground was evident, whatever of it was still left inside at least, because boy was there a lot that wasn't. He couldn't help taking a probing sniff of the frigid air, though if he thought he detected anything it would just be his own, still warm and functioning, brain trying to fill in the gaps. The cold would make sure of that, for now at least.
A second passed in his shock and he hovered in inaction, willing himself to approach, to prove to himself that his matter-of-fact classification of this former girl as an object was correct, that there was nothing that could hurt him. Meanwhile, instincts older than humanity against coming any closer were screaming in his ear, thickening the air with a threatening buzz as if reaching forward would be tantamount to prodding a giant bug zapper, because what if the corpse was carrying the plague or some new danger brewing postmortem or if there was like a fucking tiger or something still hanging around that had done it.
"Hey, there's uh, something—well, it used to be someone—there's a, you know, over here. You should see it. Or, uh, maybe you really shouldn't."
"Never actually played the games," he mused, pushing past some idle machinery, "But I do know that one guy's source is that he made it the fuck up, and that's canon and I won't hear otherwise oh fuck."
There, sprawled before him, was everything that made a human except the most important part. The part that, strictly speaking, was probably some emergent illusion that didn't actually exist.
It was a dead person.
She—it didn't jump out. There was no scare chord, no Hell's Kitchen waterphone, no dramatic pitching and shifting of his vision. It simply... existed. And, you know, didn't. But, as much as the aging detritus of the island's former habitation sat in wait whether he anticipated it or not, so did the object that had once housed a soul. Moving a bit closer, the pooling of blood in the tissue laying nearer the ground was evident, whatever of it was still left inside at least, because boy was there a lot that wasn't. He couldn't help taking a probing sniff of the frigid air, though if he thought he detected anything it would just be his own, still warm and functioning, brain trying to fill in the gaps. The cold would make sure of that, for now at least.
A second passed in his shock and he hovered in inaction, willing himself to approach, to prove to himself that his matter-of-fact classification of this former girl as an object was correct, that there was nothing that could hurt him. Meanwhile, instincts older than humanity against coming any closer were screaming in his ear, thickening the air with a threatening buzz as if reaching forward would be tantamount to prodding a giant bug zapper, because what if the corpse was carrying the plague or some new danger brewing postmortem or if there was like a fucking tiger or something still hanging around that had done it.
"Hey, there's uh, something—well, it used to be someone—there's a, you know, over here. You should see it. Or, uh, maybe you really shouldn't."
"Oh, huh-"
And then they saw it. For a moment, John didn't consider to be a them, a who. But an it. It was an object. An entity. A prop. A thing.
This was nothing like LiveLeak. Nothing like those seedy gore websites you'd look at when you were 12, innocent, curious and ready to be traumatized. This was real. Real.
And it felt so, so much different. Why did it? Why did it feel different?
Was it because it was the first taste of the real thing? The first step towards no return? Or, well, it's already gotten to that point. People were dead. They were all in some forgotten corner of the globe, killing each other for some weirdos and murderers...what? Fetish? John had a flash of a creep jerking off to this. It sent shudders down their spine.
"U-Uuh, yeah, I shouldn't have seen that."
They tried, tried so hard, to force out some gorey, morbid humor. But it felt disrespectful. 'I wasn't going to look, since I knew what I would see, but I just had to look. And now I'm traumatized,' is what they would have said.
It's what they said whenever they clicked on a Reddit 50/50 link and saw another video of someone blowing their head off with a shotgun. Or a video of that 60's politician blowing his scalp off from some corruption scandal. Or that-
John stopped themselves, holding in vomit.
"Holy shit - I'm good."
No they're not.
"I'm not - no - but...no sick."
And then they saw it. For a moment, John didn't consider to be a them, a who. But an it. It was an object. An entity. A prop. A thing.
This was nothing like LiveLeak. Nothing like those seedy gore websites you'd look at when you were 12, innocent, curious and ready to be traumatized. This was real. Real.
And it felt so, so much different. Why did it? Why did it feel different?
Was it because it was the first taste of the real thing? The first step towards no return? Or, well, it's already gotten to that point. People were dead. They were all in some forgotten corner of the globe, killing each other for some weirdos and murderers...what? Fetish? John had a flash of a creep jerking off to this. It sent shudders down their spine.
"U-Uuh, yeah, I shouldn't have seen that."
They tried, tried so hard, to force out some gorey, morbid humor. But it felt disrespectful. 'I wasn't going to look, since I knew what I would see, but I just had to look. And now I'm traumatized,' is what they would have said.
It's what they said whenever they clicked on a Reddit 50/50 link and saw another video of someone blowing their head off with a shotgun. Or a video of that 60's politician blowing his scalp off from some corruption scandal. Or that-
John stopped themselves, holding in vomit.
"Holy shit - I'm good."
No they're not.
"I'm not - no - but...no sick."
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Rattlesnake
- Posts: 346
- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
"I shouldn't have looked either," he replied, bending in closer. Things that took so long to grow. So many experiences, so much thought and feeling and desire and wonder, now just a thing spilled across the floor. His own trajectory, fantastically improbable looking forward and inescapable certain looking back. And, probably, not taking him much farther.
"But that's what it's about, isn't it? The kinds of people who would do something like this to someone who—well, maybe she was the bad guy. Maybe everyone was, or nobody. But, fuck, I dunno, probably not. Just, there are people who'd want this to happen, legitimately and unironically, who make it happen. Would be nice if they didn't just get away with it."
He turned away, cool and impassive. Blinked and saw the twsiting of limbs and the color of aging blood.
"Might be something else here, but we can dip if you want."
"But that's what it's about, isn't it? The kinds of people who would do something like this to someone who—well, maybe she was the bad guy. Maybe everyone was, or nobody. But, fuck, I dunno, probably not. Just, there are people who'd want this to happen, legitimately and unironically, who make it happen. Would be nice if they didn't just get away with it."
He turned away, cool and impassive. Blinked and saw the twsiting of limbs and the color of aging blood.
"Might be something else here, but we can dip if you want."
"I think we should dip - out of respect - but-"
But there might be something we need. This guy is dead and we need to live. I need to live.
The thought makes John sick to their stomach.
"Lets - can I at least step out? You can look, I just need fresh air."
But there might be something we need. This guy is dead and we need to live. I need to live.
The thought makes John sick to their stomach.
"Lets - can I at least step out? You can look, I just need fresh air."
"I-I just need-"
John would exit the room.
"Just to get out of this room."
((And John stepped out for air.))
John would exit the room.
"Just to get out of this room."
((And John stepped out for air.))
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Rattlesnake
- Posts: 346
- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
"Sure," he said, turning and then turning back. "I'll just..."
...
"You're not fuckin' ok, are you/" he sid, mostly to himself at the rapid retreat of his companion. He stood a moment longer, reluctant but aware of the way the wind was blowing. With a sigh and a shrug and one last look back, he followed suit in vacating the area.
((Continued elsewhere))
...
"You're not fuckin' ok, are you/" he sid, mostly to himself at the rapid retreat of his companion. He stood a moment longer, reluctant but aware of the way the wind was blowing. With a sigh and a shrug and one last look back, he followed suit in vacating the area.
((Continued elsewhere))