hadriel_logs | you're part of a machine [OPEN/CLOSED]

Entry tags:

you're part of a machine [OPEN/CLOSED]

Who: Rey/Safronov and Nick Valentine (feat Alphys) + a couple open prompts.
What: Finding out that she has limited time left before her brain melts due to the infection that led to her death, ~~Rey~~ Safronov suffers a few blackout episodes before she is able to bring her successor back.
Where: Abandoned shop, Science lab, Robot House (1401).
When: March catch-all (feel free to specify dates in the subject line when tagging an open prompt if it's important).
Warnings: Suicidal ideations and other heavy subjects.

7th-19th; Abandoned Shop [OPEN]
(are you insane like me, been in pain like me?)

The headaches only got worse as the days went by. Sometimes, she would hear the most unbearable ringing in her ears, like a grenade had just gone off right next to her head. More frequent came the nosebleeds, and within a week it became blatantly obvious that Safronov was working on borrowed time. She knew this, and there was no pride in being right.

Her memories at the Russian command center were vague at first, but over time she began to recollect her life more. Perhaps it was due to the infection constantly reminding her in the forms of distractions that were getting increasingly more difficult to ignore, but she remembers it all now: She had failed in her objective to destroy the synthetic's hub at the Grigoryevich Underground Center. As a result, its systems had trapped her. Hooked her up to a seat and sent a needle through the port to her brain.

It's not much unlike the needle that her successor had evidently worked from scratch, which had been used to unintentionally bring Safronov back to the forefront. Such a crude design, but one that did the job it was supposed to. All Safronov needed to do was make sure it did its job even better. Her DYI handiwork was all over the shop she had set up base in, so that she could labor on in peace. Peace that was becoming more frequently disrupted through headaches and, now, blackouts.

Sometimes, she would lose track of what she was doing, only to wake up on the floor after trashing the extra tables, chairs, and shelves around her. Quite a racket, for those passing by on the outside and happen to notice a light beaming in the mostly empty establishment.

At some point, it gets even worse. Blackout. Then, another bloody headache. Literal this time. Blood is coming out of her nose as she grips her head, screaming and rolling on the floor. The agony is searing through her skull, electrifying her body and she feels it under her skin.

One bullet should do the trick. In her blinding pain, she crawls across the floor, to the table where she had been working at to find her gun there. Or, Rey's gun. Her successor's gun. It isn't like she hasn't done this before. This is her body, after all. A different owner has taken it now, but she recognizes the subtle flaws and blemishes that were special to her.

Regardless of whose gun this belongs to, it's Safronov's pill now. Just what the doctor ordered.

20th; Science Lab [CLOSED to Alphys sciencelizard + Nick Valentine synthedick]
(do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?)

Of course, her only 'remedy' had been less than ideal, though unsuccessful. In the end, she can't.

This isn't Safronov's life to take away anymore. Despite the pain that Rey had so badly wanted to erase, it was clear that she didn't want to be removed from the world entirely. Not when there were people who cared for her.

More than anyone ever cared about Safronov. There would never be anyone to mourn over her death, and she was better off that way for it. It gives her less reason to cling to this life, or lament the inevitable.

Still wracked with the hot pulsing pain tearing through her skull, Safronov somehow manages to make it across this strange and hot city, back to the place where she had began. While most seem to arrive here through that Door, she came through different means. Unlike the people here, however, she has an exit strategy.

Her nose is bleeding once again as Safronov opens the door to the science lab, the bag holding her supplies that she will need for this slung over her shoulder.

"Doctor?" Safronov calls into the lab before entering. She can't recall if the reptilian scientist had ever designated herself with such a title, but that is what she is called now. Whether the fact that such a creature could even be called a scientist has never struck her as strange, however. Perhaps a little bit of her successor remains, grounding them both, or it's just that Safronov has bigger concerns. "Are you here--?"

Oh. Oh no. Not again--

Safronov grunts, staggering forward while the door slams behind her. Eyes squeezed shut, she finds a wall to rest on, fighting to remain conscious this time.

30th; House 1401 [OPEN to close CR]
(you can't wake up, this is not a dream.)

Nearly a week and a half passes and Rey's body barely stirs in her bed, though it's hard to say if she still even is Rey. If not for the steady breathing, one could easily mistake the prone woman for a corpse.

Though she doesn't show it, every so often she is cognizant of her surroundings. Voices of those standing over her, their presence nearby. She hears, she listens, but she could never reply.

Until the ninth day since Safronov had gone rifling through their head once again. Only her eyes open, and for the first several hours all she can do is stare at the ceiling over her bed. Process her surroundings, feelings... who she is, why she's here, what happened. She remembers her name -- or a name, more like it. And a few other things. The mysteries keep her thoughts more than occupied for the long hours she can't move.

And then she blinks.

Isn't it about time you wake up, sleepyhead? says a quiet whisper in the back of her mind. Where has she heard that before? In a dream?

The questions flutter away as she closes her eyes again, until she hears the sounds of footsteps approaching the opened door to her room.

To what should come as no one's surprise, curled up at the end of the bed is a three-legged cat, whose head lifts at the prospect of company. They will find themselves being stared at by the one, single eye belonging to the creature, before yawning as he stretches his front leg over the covers.

Threaded | Flat

[she's on her way back from the bakery when she hears it. agonized screaming coming from a building she thought no one used. she almost passes it by; it's not her problem, after all.

or is it? the voice is familiar, though. . . different than what she remembers hearing earlier. she can't possibly make the situation worse, can she?

so she goes inside the building and sees Rey crawling towards a gun, acting as though every movement is an agony. but that's temporarily sidelined because gun. she goes over to it, putting one pennyloafered foot on the barrel of the gun]

You sure this is a good idea?

Alphys spends most of her time in the lab, these days; not that her home isn't nice, but with it just being down to her and Rosie, it's feeling particularly empty these days. There's less and less friends of hers by the day, and everything with Rey has been weighing heavily on her. The problem is she has no idea what to actually do for her, but Alphys is here regardless.

She's in the back in the kitchenette, head spines perking up when she hears Rey's-- well, almost Rey's-- voice start up. She starts heading out, coffee in hand, casually waiting to see what she can do for the other woman.

"Yeah, I'm here!" She calls out, setting the cup down on her desk before she looks up- and the door slams as Sav slumps against the wall. Alphys responds in turn with a shriek, bolting towards the other woman, immediately letting her hands rest on Sav's arm. "Are you okay?? W-What's happening, did-- did you get hurt?"

"Oh, you're here as well."

Carlisle says that from the doorway to Rey's room, frozen on the spot as he eyes the one-eyed cat. His tone says he'd thought that said cat might not be there, as if it either didn't like Rey, or it had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination the first time he'd seen it; as it turns out, Tripod is very much real, and is very much staring at him, that singular, green eye boring a hole straight through him.

He clears his throat, averting his eyes. "I brought you some tea, Miss Rey," he says quietly.

What once had been Alphys' science laboratory is now drawn into a perfect darkness. For a few seconds, one might easily fear they've shut down, because there is nothing, and there continues to be nothing for some time.

Then the sound of a soft, distorted whirring echoes in the surrounding darkness. A bleep. The words are difficult to make out, but not impossible.

N̳̠͓e̱w ̺̦̖̩̩̞͠U̥͉̯̞͔̤̭s̙̜̲͈͉̞͙e̼̺͍r̦̦̼̠̼ ̞̬̪̜͕͙̥D̘́e̠̞̘̹͈̟͈t̸̖̝ḛ̻̖͓̜c͏ṯ̮̺̯ḛd͏͎ͅ.̗̲̮͟.̷̬̦͔̖͍̳͍.̦̦̣̬͚͉̩
̻̭̩̘͖D̨̮e̷͕̱͉͚̙s̻̬̞̬͇̟i̖g̻̥n͍a̸̹̗̞̣͇͖t̥͉̗͔̙̠́i͎̤̥̠̞̞o͈̟̱͖̟n̛:̦̫͠ ͟N͙̭̙.̰ ̝͢V̕a̤̮̭͔͚̺͖͡l̳̪̟̬̺͙̗ẹ̡̣ͅn͠t̮̯̫ͅi̴͚̰̞͖̙͙̪n͕̤̜e̻͖
̞̪͙͓̳͕
̠̼̝̼͜R͚̩͔ͅe̵͉̦t̴̘͓͍͇͉̟ŕ̳͓i͏͙̰ḛ͔̹̯̝v̴͈i̙̹͞n̷͇̮̖̹̬͎͇g ̭͎̬̥Ṃ̺̞e͇͇̻̺̩m̯͖̞͚͍o̠̪r͘y̬̟̭ Ba͙͕̻̻ǹ̬ḱ̗͈s̼͍͓.̴.̤͜.̥̦̻

> WARNING: Error Has Occurred.
> 23% File Corruption.
> Further Use May Result In Data Infection.

> Are You Sure You Wish To Continue? Y/N

> Y

It takes some time and patience before a blurred manifestation reveals itself in Nick Valentine's surroundings. Red veins extend along a twisted path under his feet, lighting up in the darkness of the mind. Flickers of data and memories can be seen, but it's too obscure and out of reach for the images to be made clear.

There are a few blips and glitches, but for the most part, the data field is stabilized. That's when a disembodied voice, between static sounds, can be heard: "Valentine? I see the jump process hasn't scrambled your own data. Good."

The voice sounds like Rey's... No, Safronov. It's her same tone and inflection, one that Nick would no doubt be able to distinguish between her and the Rey he knows.

"Don't have much time. Infection is spreading. I have registered abstract simulations. Make your work easier. I can't walk you through because we may lose contact. Understand?"

Obviously, she waits for an answer. A response. Anything.

Edited 2018-03-21 06:27 (UTC)

It's been hard, honestly, to see Rey in such a state. While Rose knows that she's alive, it might be hard to convince someone else otherwise. The cadence of her breathing is so light and her body's still as the countless number of the deceased she witnessed in Haven's days. The only thing missing is the blankness in her eyes, which- Rose is grateful that hers are closed.

She's been coming and going. When she asked Nick about updates, there wasn't much to relay. So she kept herself occupied with the orchard. Being sick had put a bit of a strain on everything but thankfully people here were kind enough to pick her sorry self up and get her right as rain. She seems to have shaken off whatever it was going around. That's more than can be said for some but she understands perhaps better than anyone that Fear needs his juice. Without him, they can't move again should the need to arise.

"Hey," she says, noticing when she comes in today that Rey's a little more... awake today. Maybe? There's a deeper rhythm to her breathing, something about the way Tripod stirs that indicates maybe the woman had been awake. "You finally back with us or what?"

Nick prefers a routine: he patrols in the morning, works at the headquarters in the afternoon, makes another round through the city streets in the evening. Past that is when he'd normally go home -- he'd sit on the couch, work out shifts and maps, transcribe posts on the network, all while in the company of Rey and Tripod. He could work in his office, but he liked taking it into the den where the two of them could talk. Sometimes they would, sometimes they wouldn't; sometimes, they'd just enjoy the silence and each other's company.

That routine has been disrupted for a month now, slowly shifting into a new one. After his evening rounds, he goes back to the office, stays until late in the night. Some nights, he walks the streets until morning, his mind elsewhere, same as his Rey -- as Safronov, as she's been for a while. If not for Tripod and Wellingham, he might not have gone home at all. It's not much of a home without his family, now is it?

He has her back now, but things haven't changed much: he still patrols late, coming home once a day -- usually late at night -- just to see if anything has changed. It's all the same so far: Wellingham in his bowl next to the succulent, Tripod in Rey's room, Rey on her bed, unmoving. Safronov indicated she could fix things, but as the days pass and Rey doesn't stir, Nick wonders if that was just something she said to placate him. It's easier to just keep patrolling, focusing on what he can do -- there's nothing he can do for her now.

And that's what he tells himself the night he comes home and things have changed. Rey might hear him out in the den, the telltale signs it's Nick wandering around all there: there's the sound of his coat sliding off his mechanical body, dropped onto the back of his easy chair; he crosses the room with his slightly uneven gait, one leg hitting the ground just a little heavier than the other, as it has since she repaired it; he stops where the fish sits near the window, murmuring a few words to him before letting out a heavy sigh from a breath that his artificial body didn't even need to take. The footsteps draw closer to her door and stop just outside it.

But he doesn't enter just yet, as though the fear of disappointment keeps him at the threshold. He's not used to that feeling. Then again, he wasn't used to having a family before this place, either, and just as he was getting used to it, he lost it. Maybe briefly, maybe permanently -- either way, it hurts like hell. Swallowing down his uncertainty, he pushes the door open.

Edited 2018-04-04 07:09 (UTC)

Shortly after returning from his journey, Oscar gathers what items he can from Miss Safronov's list. The effects of the orb containing the unique energy for Mr. Hope have begun to fade, leaving in their place a somewhat colder sense of dread in him concerning the danger of Miss Rey's current situation. If she has not taken enough steps to resolve it by now, she will be closer to succumbing to the infection now than when he left.

He checks her residence first; it appears that no one is there. He continues on his way to the coordinates he visited before his departure two weeks earlier, medical supplies on hand and ready for delivery. He notes the light shining from within and then raises his hand to gently knock on the door and announce himself.

Only to be promptly halted by a piercing scream on the other side.

Oscar recoils, visibly alarmed by the sound; the sheer volume and pitch of it indicates that it is clearly and unmistakably a cry of distress. Spurred into action, his body's next movements are mostly dictated by impulse. His hand surges forward and the door is flung open. The terrible sight that greets him is enough to confirm his fears.

"Miss Rey!" he finds he calls to her as he manages to shift from his momentarily petrified state in the doorway. He moves across the room and stops near her; he would kneel at her side were it not for her violent thrashing. He quickly becomes more fearful once he is stationed there, unsure of how to proceed. There is blood spilling forth from her nose, trails of it already staining the stone floor. She is clutching her head.

He draws back a little, trying to calm himself. He should consider how a case like this would be treated at the Clinic and recall his training with Mr. Solace.

"Miss Safronov! Please: tell me what it is you need!"

The rules of human medicine don't strictly apply here.

Threaded | Flat

10th

one (1) alphys reporting for duty

30th

20th; Memoryspace. [CLOSED to Nick Valentine]

30th;