⌧ — Data is… insubstantial. It’s an existence that doesn’t actually exist. A thing created with nothing more than numbers and letters, made for the sole purpose of either ease, access, information, or to pass along a message. It couldn’t really have a form, or even be considered real. It was all just bits and pieces of something to be used as a tool before being deleted forever.
So then, why was he here?
He knew he was nothing more than a program created for a single purpose, but where he stood was not the Datascape that he had been born into. When he clenched his fists… when he drew the makeshift sword he’d been given, the feel was completely different. Not that he could explain why- it was clear to him that these Scientists had done something that was beyond his understanding, and that frustrated him.
It was all off. It felt almost wrong somehow. Deep blue eyes carefully examined the buildings and streets around him. He had a hard time believing this was ‘real’, even if it suddenly felt like the notion that he was a program was silly simply because he was no longer a part of the original System inside the Journal. Whatever he was now… was on a level higher than simple binary.
No matter how impressive this city and his current state of being was, however, he still felt the icy-hot vice of anger clutch at his belly. It seemed that no matter what the circumstance; as his ‘real’ counterpart in the Organization, his brainwashed simulation-bound self, or as nothing but a program, he was always doomed to be used as some kind of tool or source of amusement to someone with more authority or power.
Drawing his hood further down past his face, he felt his lip curl in disgust and resigned fury. In his current state, any rebellion would end up in a situation nothing less like a fly being swatted against a wall. He could be a nuisance at best, and an easily deleted bundle of numbers at worst.
For now, all he wanted to do was escape the crowd. Equipped with nothing but his mobility and a nearly useless wooden sword, this shadow of a shadow vanished from the sidewalk with nothing but a slightly glitchy looking patch of air to note his previous position.
Within a span of a second he would reappear on what at first appeared to be a deserted overpass, with the only sound being the noise of a few cars droning to and from their destinations below.
It figures, he thought as he brandished the wooden sword in front of him, staring at it as though it were a foreign object. It figures that when he was so close to getting what he wanted that he would be dragged here for who knows how long.
Teeth clenched as a muffled noise of frustration burst from his lungs, he brought the weapon down with every fiber of his being upon the safety railing of the overpass. Somehow it didn’t immediately shatter, but so consumed he was with his actions that he hadn’t noticed the stranger that had been crossing the overpass the moment he had teleported in.
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