animus_network | 003 | Video | late Friday evening

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003 | Video | late Friday evening

[It's taken him a great deal of time to get his composure together, after everything is said and done. He might have his body back, but the rush of memories and actions and guilt guilt guilt is enough to make him want to vomit. The images of himself, coated in women, stained in blood, saying one thing while meaning another, leading people astray while knowing otherwise - PRETENDING....

How dare they... How DARE they...

...

As overwhelming as it is, he can't just wallow. Someone HAS to know, and as much as it might hurt to hear it so soon, they have to know immediately.

So Guy slips to a terminal, holding himself composed if not extremely worn... and as strong as he tries to stay, he can't quite keep the small tremble out of his words as he starts to speak.]

If you're hearing my voice right now, then you need to stop and listen. What I'm about to tell you is going to be hard to hear, and I'm sorry. But it's important.

This week was a mess. No one can deny that. But some of you here in the Tower might have been aware of a few of us wandering around, claiming we had "control" of our minds. To some of you, we were your superiors, ordering you to do or say things for us. The few of us that had mixed colors in our collars or could maintain a conversation like normal, despite our modifications, claiming that the Administrators had failed and that we were fighting back.

We sent out a message this week, gathering people and information to try and establish what we claimed was a counter-resistance. Many showed up. Many put confidence in us.

[He pauses, swallowing hard.]

That was a mistake.

The truth is that we were just as brainwashed as anyone else... Even more so, I guess. Despite what we might have said or made people think, we were all actors. The few of us you may have talked to were sent out specifically for sabotage and information, all for the ones that did this to us. We were spies, and before coming back to normal, many of us just gave away information that...

[Another pause, a deep grimace crossing his face.]

Well, it might prove to be a disaster for quite a few people. If you spoke to a drone in what you thought was a form of confidence, especially against the Tower or in details of the resistance...

[His expression pains, grimace thinning into a guilty frown.]

Then I'm sorry. We've done something truly horrible.

[...

There's another long pause, the man at the screen tense and quiet. Either he's searching for something else to say, or his composure is about to slip from him. It's hard to tell.]

There's nothing we can do to take it back. Think what you would like of us. But we've tricked you, and you deserve to know. And right now... I'd recommend to be prepared for the worst.

[...]

If you have questions, then feel free to ask. I'm... not sure what any of us can tell you. I'm sorry.

[And with a tired, forced smile, the feed ends.]

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...As far as I know?

[He gives a weak chuckle as he presses his back to the shelves, slowly sliding to the floor. What was he during that week? Wow, what a question. One would think he'd be the person to ask, but... he really didn't know. Was he really himself, or was that just his mind playing tricks on him? He could think the optimistic route, but the evidence against that was just too overwhelming...

...

He bites at his lip, his voice ragged and tired.]

I'm really not sure. There were times where... I don't know... I felt like I was really myself. That there was something to fight against, that I had a clear head despite everything else.

But at the same time...

[He trails off, his shoulders tensing, arms still wrapped closely to himself.]

Heh... I don't know.

I was just as fooled as anyone else, I guess.

[Another exhale, this one closer to a sigh. He doesn't know what to think about it either, Guy. The fact that the admins could wrap someone's mind around like that is deeply disturbing of he dwells on it too long. At least back on Auldrant, they could only break his body.

Except that's not really true. Breaking someone just takes longer, that's all. So does putting them back.]

If it's anything like what you would have done, then thanks are probably still in order.

[It helped at the time when he most needed help. He can't not be grateful, even if in retrospect it stings worse.]

...Huh?

[He finally turns to look Asch straight-on, confusion written all over his features. Guy certainly remembers his interactions with Asch, sure, but... it hadn't seemed much like he was helping the droned soul by just ordering it around for a couple days.

...]

What for?

Well, not attacking me, for a start.

[That chuckle is a lot more painful than he's trying to play it off as. Everyone else he'd run into that was modified, at least those he'd been able to recognize...

He's not going to have to worry about dying from fonon separation for a while longer, at any rate.]

You gave me something outside myself to hang onto. Whatever they did to me, I...

[He weaves his fingers together, so that he has something to squeeze without being too obvious about it.]

I couldn't recognize anyone by their face, or their voice. The only reason I knew it was you was because I figured that no one else would be specifically terrified of being covered in dead women.

[And he wishes he could have offered even a little of the comfort that Guy's presence had given him - but instead, his body had just hurt the man, and maybe even made it worse.]

[He doesn't just chuckle at that - he outright laughs, dry and pained and far too loud for such a quiet space. Asch is thanking him for his fear.

What a dark day this was, to find some sort of ironic humor in that.

But a small part of him understands, slowly, why Asch is thanking him. To be trapped in a world on his own with no familiar faces... maybe he just had to rely on crazy things. And Guy just happened to have a pretty noticeable crazy thing.

Heh.]

I... guess you're welcome, then. I'm sorry. That must have been pretty hard for you...

[He pauses, giving a light shrug and picking at his hair absentmindedly.]

Sorry for all the blood in the cathedral wing. I really should of worded a lot of that better.

Edited (haha grammar) 2013-04-21 01:58 (UTC)

[And it's Asch's turn to laugh, somewhat bitter, all ironic, throwing himself back against the back of his armchair and staying there a long moment to catch his breath.]

What, did you think I got my moniker for coming back to Daath covered in strawberry jam?

[A reckless kid who came back to the cathedral splattered in blood, sometimes soaked with it up to his elbows - ]

I stopped being bothered by blood a long time ago. It kind of comes with the territory.

[Special Operations isn't a gentle place for a kid to grow up, but given where he is now, maybe it was for the best. It's sickening that he has to consider being unmoved by blood as an advantage in this place, but that's exactly what it is. He won't freeze up at the sight of it, even when it's coming from his friends or himself.]

Heh... alright, alright, sorry. But that's not really it.

[He doesn't need to hear a backstory that he knows will likely end in bittersweet tragedy when he's already got the end product sitting right here. He knows Asch has seen his fair share of blood. He's a member of the army, after all. Who knows how many people he's killed since he was abducted.

...]

Just knowing you, the mess all of that made - well, anything that happened, really - wasn't really up to par for you, even if it wasn't your fault. I wasn't ever sure if you were really in there or not. But if you had been... haha, I'm sorry if it was frustrating.

So I dunno. I guess I wish I could have been more clear for you. Might have been a little easier to deal with things that way, you know?

[His voice is wavering, a tightness to it that's keeping it from being truly genuine. Almost as if he's having a hard time accepting the words coming out of his own mouth.

But damn, he's too tired to try and correct himself now.]

It's fine. It wasn't any more or less frustrating than the situation as a whole.

[There's nothing he hates more than being helpless, nothing he fears more. So even if it was a pitiful attempt, even if it wasn't worth anything in the end - ]

It was better than having to watch everything go past without any ability to impact it.

[Something solid to hold onto, even if it didn't last.]

So knowing that it was me gave you some little bit of purpose, then?

Huh.

[It's like a little latch is unlocking in Guy's mind when it comes to figuring this crazy kid out. Was he really so desperate that he'd thank Guy for ordering him around? Was he really that needy for some attention, or just... scared? Forced into a corner with no control, no one to rely on, no one to take refuge in, nothing recognizable and forced to rely on yourself...

Except he couldn't even rely on himself, could he? If he's been stuck inside his own body...

It's not the first time, but maybe the strongest time, that Guy feels a flair of sympathy for the God General.]

Well. You're welcome, then.

Something like that.

[Purpose isn't quite the word; it's nothing quite as strong as that. An idea, maybe, that there was something worth holding on for.]

...So what now?

[Hell if I know.

His legs stretch out in front of him, back arching with a long stretch. He looks like he could fall asleep right there on the floor.]

Mmm.

Probably more questions from you, I guess. You're the one who was so insistent on answers and everything.

[A pause, where Asch squeezes his knitted-together fingers again.]

...That girl, she...

[He doesn't have any features to identify her, but he's sure Guy knows what he means.]

She wasn't the only one, was she?

[The stark silence Asch will get in return is answer enough for that question, Guy turning his head away with that noticeable tension returning in his posture.]

...No... she wasn't...

I didn't think so. Not with the way you...

[.... collected them. He can't bring himself to say that aloud, but it doesn't stop him from remembering that eerie smile, Guy's face superimposed over the blank one that he actually saw.]

...How many?

[And should he be worried about any of them coming for revenge.]

...I don't... want to....

[It's a quiet croak of a response, Guy leaning himself over and clearing his throat before trying to speak again.]

...Fifteen.

[There's a definite waver in his voice, his tone low and almost angry.]

And... they were... they weren't all... there. I don't remember all of them.

[Fifteen. He's not so desensitized to death that he doesn't wince. Fifteen in five days is less than a lot of the soldiers he's commanded could do.]

And what about you? Did you...

[Because surely some of those women wouldn't have gone down without a fight, surely not all of them were drones who wouldn't, couldn't fight for their lives.]

[There's another long pause, Guy once again keeping his eye on the bookshelf, barely pretending to read the spines of the books as a distraction.]

...Did I what?

[He can let that dodge slide - with that pause, there's no way Guy misunderstood, but Asch can be blunt.]

Did you die.

...Yeah.

[Equally blunt, while still dodging as much as he can. Whoever DIDN'T die that week should have earned a prize. There was always so many bodies in the processing room... some far too familiar.

Guy could have sworn he had seen Asch at least once. But he won't voice that right now.]

How many times?

[He'll cough up his own if Guy asks, or after he finds out from the blond. But until then?

He still doesn't even know, who the second one was. That's the most unsettling thing.]

[There's a bitter smile slipping onto his face, his hands gripping tightly against his knees.]

...More than once.

[It's like he has to spit the words out of his mouth, and the anger is slowly starting to leak out, the man far too tired to hold it back. His tension increases, movements tight, words now low and crisp.]

I imagine you didn't fare much better.

[Not exactly a precise answer, but... whatever, Guy. It's not worth fighting right now. He's too tired.]

Twice. One was Sheba. The other... I still don't know.

[Face recognition problems suck, not that there was much of a face to be seen, anyway.]

[That is indeed a topic shift and Guy is totally grabbing for it with all he's got.]

...Do you remember what happened to you? The second time?

Edited 2013-04-22 06:03 (UTC)

[Take a hold of it in both hands, Guy, otherwise it might get away.]

...Noise. It was someone else who had been modified, and their body was replaced with musical instruments. The sound -

[His hands make an aborted motion towards his ears.]

[The blonde stiffens.

He knows exactly who that is. He was there to help him learn to walk on clumsy, brass limbs, voice static and broken through speakers instead of his mouth. Outside of that, he'd only seen bits and pieces of Luke, a walking musical machine, making noise with every intake of breath.

He'd never seen him kill someone with that sound.]

I see.

Would it be better to know who that person was? I mean, did it help at all, knowing that with Sheba?

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