[Day 194] prose;; with lead inside my belly [open]

[metainstability]

Who: the Meta, anyone!
Open: Open
When: Day 194, early evening
Where: The Skyway, Open Plains area
What: Waking up lost in a new world doesn't count as being AWOL, does it?
Format: Opening post is prose, but I can switch around!
Warnings: Slight mentions of past mental trauma

 

Sleep, when possible, wasn’t something of rest and recuperation, but rather an inopportune succumbing to unavoidable bodily needs. Inefficient, a waste of valuable time, that was an indisputable fact, but even with the most advanced modifications, the harshest training, flesh was still weak, and weariness was unrelenting and inevitable.

 

When his eyes had shut, there had been sand, harsh winds, and unrelenting heat; not an environment conducive to rest, but it would have been pointless to hope for anything else.  Above anything, he was a soldier, and civilian comforts, such as proper sleeping quarters, were nothing more than a vague memory. 

 

Discomfort, however, did not explain the sudden drop in temperature, or the abundance of flora that had somehow sprang up over the short few hours that he had been out.  Nor did it account for the fact that there seemed to be a sheer drop just a few yards to his left, a fact that was currently causing more discomfort than he would have liked to admit.

 

What was going on?  The last that the Meta could remember, Washington had called for camp, citing a need to regroup and prepare for any difficulties that could present themselves when their ragtag group finally hunted down Epsil-

 

-lonepsilonepsilonepsILON-

 

The name was like lightning, arcing through his skull and burning through his attempts at recalling anything beyond the sudden, overwhelming need to get up, to run, to try to find something, anything, anything related to the one missing piece that had eluded him earlier. New landscape be damned, all the questions that should have been imperative be damned, the fact that the entire world seemed to have changed be damned, he needed to go.

 

In the midst of all of the internal chaos, he swept his gaze across his surroundings, the landscape escaping rational thought, but a glint of metal within the grass nearby caught his attention immediately. Armored fingers brushed over the dented shell of the containment unit he had been carrying, the action enough to quiet the racing thoughts for the time being. Epsilon, yes. Epsilon would be found, Epsilon would be captured.

 

First though-

 

First though, what was all of this?

 

With a grunt, he righted himself, eyes finally focusing on the details of his surroundings. Wind, grass, bright light, but not the harsh rays of the desert that he remembered mere hours ago. A trick, perhaps? Had Washington and the medic somehow abandoned him somewhere? The idea was laughable at best, but he hissed low in his throat anyways, attempting to access the radio unit in his helmet. He was met with nothing but the harsh whine of static, which was unusual. Damaged perhaps? Sabotage? There was no way to be certain without further inspection, but that would take time, and would leave him vulnerable while he removed his armor to tinker. Not an option.

 

Standing, he took stock of his situation; the weight of the brute shot was still heavy across his back, so they hadn’t disarmed him, which was peculiar in his own right, and the capture unit was still in his possession, another point away from any sort of intentional slight.  Any attempts at pinpointing his location with his tech came up woefully blank, something had to have shorted out the GPS circuitry, and it seemed that there were no residual heat trails that would alert him to any persons having passed by in recent history.

 

A short, guttural noise escaped his lips, an obvious curse despite the lack of any words, and he very nearly threw his helmet in frustration.  It wouldn’t have done any good, however, and though he was doing his best to ignore the fact that there seemed to be sheer drops around, pitching any of his equipment in a fit of anger would have probably resulted in losing said equipment forever if it happened to skip over the edge.  No sense in making the situation any worse than it already was.

 

With another derisive noise, he swiped the capture unit off the ground, hooking it to the back of his armor to keep it safe before taking a tentative step forward.  The soil seemed stable beneath his feet, but it did very little to quell his uneasiness.  Still, just sitting about in an unfamiliar, possibly hostile, environment was against everything that he had ever been trained, and the longer that he stood about, the longer it would be before he had an answer and the longer it would be before he could resume his mission.

 

Though there was still duress, he pressed on, one foot in front of the other, with no certainty as to where he was even headed.

 

Comments

[croceamors]

Considering what had happened to the Night girl so long ago, it was generally accepted for most in the Bastion to go out onto the Skyway accompanied by at least one other party. Never alone. Saix didn't particularly listen to the rule for a few reasons. The first was that if he ever needed backup, he could simply wave a hand and his Berserker and a few Dusks would be at his beck and call. The second was that he still had access to Corridors of Darkness- even with the end of the world, it seemed like Darkness was always prevalent. So long as Saix had been to a location before, then he could appear there.

It wasn't as though he went very far anyway, not for some days now. He had used to, shouldered with the fact that Roxas and the strange girl Xion did as well and likely for the same reason as himself. No, instead, he simply went to the nearest location to practice his shooting with the rifle he'd had for a while now. There were always Squirts or Peckers to shoot, easy enough prey without being overwhelming. It helped keep his mind off of things anyway.

But he couldn't stay out all day, that was simply fact. It would be an easy matter to just arrive at the Bastion, but he preffered taking the longer route- walking. He'd already spent a good few years playing "secretary" instead of "warrior", after all. It was preferable to keep in shape. Besides, you never knew what you'd find out on the Skyway.

For example, an armored man carrying an interesting burder and a more interesting weapon.

Saix stopped where he was, pieces of land still forming in front of him to connect with the Open Plains to forge a proper path. His mismatched eyes quickly took in as much as he could of the other person, not bothering to assume race or sex with that much armor covering every bit of body. He'd seen too many strange humanoids in Vatheon to start assuming now. Well armored, well equipped- was the weapon technologically based or magically? Saix didn't care to find out although the universe tended to care very well for what he wanted in return most of the time.

The rifle was shouldered again; it would be good if it came off as nonthreatening but honestly he just wanted to have his hands free for if he had to summon his sword to his hands. He'd become a decent gunman, but he was far better with Lunatic. Well aware of his probably strange appearance- bright blue hair pulled back, mismatched eyes, a shard amulet shining faintly over a black coat- he called out to the armored stranger. "You're not going to make any decent progress like that."

[metainstability]

Subsequent attempts to get his communications system back online were met with increasing static, and it was enough to put him in an even fouler mood than the sheer strangeness of the situation to begin with. Something had happened, that was obvious, and it was something severe if all of his tech was on the fritz. For a moment the Meta entertained the idea of seeing if all of his collected enhancements were still functional, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. While it was imperative that he know of any crucial malfunctions, and in that anything that would prevent him from asserting force or defending himself, he was still offput by the surroundings.

It seemed laughable, almost, that someone used to running through maelstroms of artillery would be so unnerved, but the very real fact that there was no way of knowing how high up he was, coupled with the fact that he still had zero idea why he was even there in the first place, couldn’t be argued. His equipment was important, but staying alive and intact and on the ground was far more so.

One foot in front of the other, he slowly made his way through the plains, growing more and more tense with each step. There were no answers to be found, he didn’t like being in the dark, and there would be hell to pay when he finally tracked down the other freelancer that had apparently tricked and abandoned him.

The anger was bubbling beneath his skin when a voice pierced through his increasingly dark thoughts. His veiled gaze immediately whipped towards the source of the noise. The cadence was all wrong, it wasn’t Washington, and certainly not the medic. Sim soldier? No. Alien? No, that wasn’t right either. There was a moment’s pause where the Meta merely stared, eyes narrowed in confusion under his helmet; to be honest, he wasn’t certain what he was even looking at. Civilian, maybe? No, there was weaponry, and the attire was odd.

With a thought, he called up the biocom program, huffing under his breath as it too failed to properly function. Where there should have been statistics, figures blinking into life in his peripheral vision, he was greeted with a scroll of numbers and the red of an error message. Confusing, worrisome, there was no reason why such a basic program should have been damaged, and yet despite his attempts to override commands, the blinking error persisted. A few numbers slipped into place, but they meant nothing, and frustration began to creep into the base of his skull.

If it was impossible to get any information, then there was only one course of action, one that he was far more familiar with. Shifting his weight to his back leg, he swung the brute shot down from his shoulder, momentarily comforted by its weight in his hands. There was little room to work, however, and it was that worry that stayed his hand. There was simply too much risk in attempting anything for the time being, but that didn’t mean that intimidation and bluffing weren’t suitable.

A guttural snarl ripped from his throat dying down into a slow, steady hiss; it was the best answer he could produce in response to the other’s words. Taking a step forward, he motioned vaguely with the weapon in his hands, cocking his head.

[croceamors]

There was a gun being pointed at him and they were clearly speaking different languages. Fantastic.

Except... Saix's eyes narrowed as he took in the kind of gun that was being pointed at him before flickering up to focus on the helmet masking the armored man's face from view. That wouldn't make sense. The shard amulets were supposed to be able to translate everything unless the speaker made an effort not to be understood. Strangers wouldn't know that. So, scratch that: a gun being pointed at him and the other couldn't speak, likely. It was an improvement, at least.

His fingers clenched and relaxed a few times, tempted to summon his weapon. He dismissed the idea. If it came to blows, then he'd want that to be a bit of a surprise. For now, he'd just make one thing clear.

"If you shoot at me, I'll be sure to come over there and break both of your arms in retaliation." No one could ever say diplomacy was his strong suit. "Now then- you can understand me, can't you? A nod will suffice."

[metainstability]

His bluff had been called, and responded to in turn, it seemed. If he had been in less foul of a mood, the Meta would have perhaps found it funny, would have perhaps conceded a point to the gutsy stranger; as it was, however, the words only served to ignite his frustrations further. Sparing a quick glance down to the weapon in his hands, he mentally cursed. Of course he would be low on ammo in a live fight.

There was a scant second he weighed the pros and cons of wasting a grenade or two, but ultimately he decided against it for the time being. If things came to blows, there were plenty of ways to solve his problems without having to use any of his precious resources, and while it was always amusing to witness the overkill that a well-timed shot brought, perhaps he was long overdue for a more hands on approach.

With a dry choking noise, the most sarcastic laughter that he could produce, he holstered the brute shot again, though his posture remained tense and at the ready. As he cracked his knuckles, he nodded once, almost in after thought.

[croceamors]

So was he listening or biding his time? That was the problem with the face hidden. It made it harder to tell what was going through someone's head. He knew that from doing it often himself. He'd deal with it for now since the gun was back in its holster. That was the important thing.

With that settled, Saix began to move forward again. Unlike the armored soldier's, his steps weren't uncertain at all even when it seemed like there was nothing awaiting him a few steps ahead. The amulet did its work, however, floating small chunks of land rising up from the void beneath them to fill in the rest of the path almost like tiles being laid down. On the Skyway, it was less a "click" save for where rocks scraped and bumped against each other as things were rearranged and more a quiet steady 'thump'. He wasn't going to get too close. Saix liked to think he had a bit more intelligence than that. Still, he wanted to close the distance to some degree.

Once both parts of the Skyway were connected, he spoke up again. "You're on what's known as the Skyway. If you don't have certain items, then making any progress is aggravatingly difficult. Even then, if you don't know where you're going, you'll liable to simply run into enough of the native and non-native wildlife that you'll be worn down before you do make it anywhere." He tilted his head to the side. "Fortunately for you, you're not the only one to survive the end of so many worlds."

[metainstability]

Well, at least it seemed things were progressing, though perhaps not in the way that the Meta had been expecting. It was rare enough nowadays that people were brave enough to approach him, much less engage him in conversation, and though he still itched to shoot off a few rounds and just take care of the seeming problem before him, he was growing somewhat testy with his decision.

He immediately banished the thought, however, as the ground began to shift and move, and if he had been of lesser caliber, he would have taken a few steps back. What type of power was this, to bend the soil itself? There were no unusual fluctuations on his biocom, no telltale signs of any sort of geo-tech, certainly no sign of any AI-based modifications being used…so what did that leave? It was unsettling, to say the least.

Another warning snarl, and the Meta’s hand raised again, though this time it was not to reach for his weapon. Instead, he clenched his fingers into a fist, but made no motion to indicate it was another threat. After a moment, he lowered his arm, his gloved hand swept in front of his chest, palm extended towards the other. It was a long shot, he certainly didn’t expect anyone else to understand military hand signals, but it seemed as good of an idea as anything else. Without Washington (traitor or not) to translate, it was growing more and more frustrating trying to get his point across.

Freeze, stay there. I do not understand.

The stranger wasn’t speaking any sense, or at the very least his words were completely without needed context. Skyway? Alright, the strange terrain was this ‘skyway’, he supposed that was fair enough, given what he had merely observed in the short amount of time that he had spent trouncing about. Certain items though…that was enough to spark curiosity, and subsequently, a spark of his previous need to collect. Items, items such as tech? It had to be technology, but things unrelated to what he was searching for, more than likely. Still interesting, still worth taking a look at and taking for himself if need be.

There was a derisive snort, and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the thought of being overpowered by any sort of beasts out in the open, but the next few words gave him pause. Survival was, at its heart, something he excelled at, but this was just crazy talk. Worlds ending was something of terrible novels and conspiracies, and it was nigh impossible to believe something coming from someone he had no previous contact with that was just spouting off things so casually.

Another, more careful, growl, and a motion to the side of his helmet before he nodded deliberately.

I am listening.