Ladybug!Peter VI

Oh, uhm.. hello there. My name is Peter Walter VI. You can call me Ladybug, I guess. Everyone else does. If you've come by to chat, do it quickly, please--the bots do terrible things to visitors who linger too long.

[ladybug-petervi]

The secret of happiness is freedom, the secret of freedom is courage. You are a wonderful person. I hope you have a great day.

"I d-don't..." 

He looked at the rotting, festering mess of his bedroom, then to the open window. Distantly, he wondered about escape. Dirty, sock-clad feet shuffled across the room to the open pane, peering down the very climbable wall at the grass below. No one was around. If he could just slip down and run, he'd be golden, at least for a day.

"I'm not.. r-r-really courageous at all."

He shut the window, locking it up and dropping the key into his desk drawer. With a defeated, weary slump, he dropped onto his mattress and listened to the creak of the springs.

"Sorry. I guess I, ah--I d-d-don't really deserve to be f-free at all."

[ladybug-petervi]

"Actually, lions are a matriarchal society," Ladybug remarked to the vacant wall beside him, as if responding to something it'd said. His head quirked faintly to one side, jagged nails scraping dried blood off of the only knife he had. A flashlight was held between his knees, the beam of light pointed upwards to illuminate the blade whilst he cleaned. It cast a dark shadow across his mask, and dimly lit the area around him enough to show just how filthy his floor was--it seemed he'd cleaned the floor around him, too, leaving a perfect halo of dingy brown floorboards to frame his hunched, crouching figure.

"A small wonder they m-made the lion in Wizard of Oz so frightened.. no lioness around to boss him."

His fingers traced the edge of the blade, dulled from too many uncaring uses and not nearly enough sharpenings. If he sharpened the blade at all, he'd assured himself, it would mean he really wanted to kill rather than trying to just be a better person like the bots appeared to be; henceforth, he'd never sharpened it at all. Ever. It barely even did its job anymore, but he still used it, stubborn as ever and trapped in the confines of his own map of "fine lines" between a no-good murderer and a decent human being.

"Perhaps we all should learn from lions."

[ladybug-petervi]

sidetracked (open rp)

Ladybug drifted down the hall, aimless and without a sound. Pale as a sheet, the bony young man shuffled along, dragging a mop behind him to clean up the filthy, gore-dappled footprints he left in his wake. It seemed he was returning to his bedroom; after having spent the majority of his night either screaming, dealing with visitors, or cleaning, he was quite content to slither on back to his hidey-hole.

But something felt… off, somehow. He wasn’t sure why or how, but he was uneasy, trembling as he gripped his mop tighter. The house was eerily silent, now—the bots were either asleep or elsewhere, murdering or robbing or whatever else they did now. He didn’t know. It’d been a long, long time since he’d spoken to them.

“Go away,” he wheezed from his sore throat, raw from screaming so much. His hands dropped the broom with a clatter, as he fell onto his knees on the floor, clutching his hair. Feeling anything beyond his usual cycle of emotions was clearly very bewildering for him.

“Whatever you are, b-b-bad feelings, go away!”

[ladybug-petervi]

"Wh-- who's out there?" He shook as the key made a metal sound against his hands. Fear overcame him as his tone lowered and he began to shiver some as well. "Maybe I shouldn't leave, if someone's gonna come and-- Man, don't fuckin' cry, c'mon. I'm not gonna fuckin' hurt you. Is it the swearin'? Cuz I can stop."

"N-n-no." 

He shook his head, trembling violently still as he hugged himself tightly. God, when was the last time he'd even had a hug? He couldn't remember. There was that long time he spent at Racy's place, and then.. nothing. He'd been returned and then there was punishment and everything went downhill from there. Ladybug hiccuped out a sob, not sure why he was crying but doing so anyways. It felt appropriate.

"I'm.. j-j-just.. sssSs-s-sorry."

[ladybug-petervi]

"Well whatever the hell you are, you gotta get the fuck out of here. Are you fucking coming or not? You want me to go and leave you here with a bunch of corpses and apparently a murderous fucking ROBOT?!" Each word grew increasingly louder. He shoved the dresser now, visibly putting an object between the two of them and putting a hand on the doorknob. He tugged on it, and let out another exasperate wail. "How the FUCK do you get out of here?"

"I'm n-n-not l-leaving. The-they're out.. out there." 

He trembled, then went silent. The robot was yelling now, and he didn't like yelling. From what he remembered, silence and cowering usually worked to keep bots at bay, so he fell to his knees again, curling up and trembling in silence. After a moment, he rasped out, "S-s-s-s-sorry." 

That was all he could muster, before he yanked the key to the door from where it hung around his neck and slid it across the room. It hit the bot's shoe with an audible thunk.

[ladybug-petervi]

"Look, you fuckass, people who kill people are fuckin' crazy. Whoever you're talking about is fucking mental too. Good fuckin' people don't just fuckin' kill and whatever the hell else you're doing." Evidently the dresser wasn't important anymore, though the bot's hands were still gripping the edges of it, his hardened face starting dead into Ladybug's mask. "And what the /fuck/ is up with that thing on your face?"

He froze. His fingers trembled, groping along the wall as he tried to steady himself, staring intently at the strange bot. His lower lip trembled. Suddenly, a quivering, hitched whimper stumbled from his throat and he shook his head, pressing both hands into his knotted hair as he screamed through the question about his mask, 

"I'M NOT CRAZY, I'M NOT CRAZY, I'M NOT CRAZY! I'M! NOT! CRAZY!"

Peter sobbed, shaking his head violently.

"I'm a g-g-g-good person!"

[ladybug-petervi]

"Holy fuckin' shit, you did this? Or is this someone's-- Fuck, how did I fuckin' get here in the first fuckin' place--- Damn!" The bot, evidently too bewildered to finish any of his sentences, heaved his weight against the dresser and it budged with a satisfying screech against the floor. "Look-- you got some problems, and-- Jesus Christ, this is my last offer-- you wanna get the fuck out of here, or not?"

He shrank against the wall, pressing to the peeling wallpaper as he trembled. Watching the robot shove the dresser was somehow intimidating. 

"I.. d-d-don't have problems."

Shaking his head, he began to rise. 

"I d-don't.. I.. I'm b-b-being a good person! The bots k-k-k-kill p-people, everyone l-loves them, so they're g-g-good people! I.. I just.. I did the same thing! I'm a good person! I'M N-N-NOT CRAZY!"

It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself, rather than the panicked robot.

[ladybug-petervi]

"Holy shit is that a fuckin' arm? What the hell?!" His arms flung upward to cover his face, crossing in front of him as he stepped back. Was the door open? What would happen if he tried to walk out? "What the hell, man, I just want to get out of here-- I thought I could fuckin'-- why do you have a fuckin' arm, damn! What the hell happened to you?"

Ladybug heard him scream and flinched as if struck. His eyes shot towards the door--there was a dresser in front of it, and it was locked, but it wasn't inaccessible to an average automaton who could shove a dresser aside. Or, well, anyone who could shove a dresser aside. All that was in it was the few clean clothes he had and everything Racy'd given him... which was mostly money, thus it didn't weigh the dresser down much at all. 

"I.. w-w-wanted.. to be a g-good person."

His eyes traveled to the decaying heap of human parts in the center of the room, once corpses.. once people.

"It's n-not working out t-t-t-too well."

He didn't comment on the robot wanting to leave. If he tried opening the door, Ladybug would likely do nothing to stop him--he couldn't hold his own against a robot, after all. But the idea of being subjected to the space beyond his room when he wasn't ready scared him, and he shuffled backwards with a squeak. 

[ladybug-petervi]

Ladybug's eyes lifted to stare through his window. Distantly, he could've sworn he heard talking--probably Mantis with visitors. The bot was always so.. busy.

"I'm scared," he mumbled to the glass, settling the wood of his masked forehead against the pane. He wished, briefly, that he could've felt the cold glass on his face. That it would help him, in a sense, perhaps calm down the damned fever that had stuck with him since the first corpse started festering. But his mask was stuck in good, and taking it off meant pain beyond the throbbing ache.. and anyways, he was still scarred to the point of fearing even letting people look at his face. So the fever would, for now, go unsoothed.

His fingers pried meekly at the glass, but wouldn't lift it. He was too weak for that, now. With a slow shake of his head, he sank back down to the top of his desk, still cluttered with plans he'd never finished. A hitched, stuttering sob broke through the silence of his room, and he bent over to hide his face in his knees, shaking as he cried. 

He wasn't sure why he was crying, though. Beyond fear, anger, hate, and jealousy, everything was just.. numb, lately. Terribly, horribly numb.

[ladybug-petervi]

"Lordy. Kid, I'm tryin' ta help you." The bot held out a hand, blue eyes expectant and slightly annoyed in a how-/dare/-this-person-not-trust-me manner. "I ain't gonna hurt you. If I was gonna, I would'a by now." He crossed his arms when Ladybug didn't take his hand. "You wanna pout? Or you wanna bust out of here, and be safe? Cause good Lord, this ain't doin no one good."

He groped blindly in the darkness for something to use as a weapon. His fingers suddenly coiled around what felt like the remains of an arm--heaving it at the strange bot, he then scrambled into the corner and curled up, pressing his face into his knees. What was left of the man's sanity had clearly withered, and his brilliance and sense was now shadowed by.. well, whatever the hell it was that makes a sweet young man murder people and let them rot in his bedroom.

[ladybug-petervi]

She flinched at the loud yelling, but knelt slightly, "Peter... Do you need help...?"

He snarled like a wounded animal, scooting backwards through the filth on the floor. 

"I n-n-need you to get out! Now!"

[ladybug-petervi]

She yelped in surprise but didn't seem too fazed by the bodies. Slowly, she reached up and pulled his hands away, "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to land on them..."

He was too weak to protest having his hands pulled back. His knees buckled and he slid to the floor, trembling violently. 

"D-d-don't t-touch me!"

Suddenly yanking his hands back, he pressed them to his chest, rocking back and forth where he knelt and mumbling nonsensical, semi-soothing things to himself. Mostly about how he was a good person or something. When he lifted his head again, he seemed to register her as if she'd just arrived, and screamed, "Y-YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN HERE!" 

[ladybug-petervi]

"Peter...?" Song had unintentionally appeared in the middle of his bedroom, "are you alright...?"

He, quite frankly, screamed like a little girl. Not because of her random manifestation, but because she had quite literally manifested right atop the festering heap of bodies he'd dragged into his bedroom. Darting forward, he bowled her over to the other side of the room, pressing her against the wall and clasping both bloody hands over her mouth. 

"Y-y-you stood on them! You c-can't do that, you--DON'T LOOK AT THEM!" 

[ladybug-petervi]

"Oh, whoa, little buddy. Calm down. I ain't got a clue how I got here either. I'm a mechanic, yeah? I'm like a robot doctor. Well, no, more like uhh.... a car doctor, but I-- Ugh, listen. So got some fleshy doctor friends too, and I'm willin' t' bet that they could help ya." The brass bot raised his metal eyebrows and stuffed his racing-gloved hands into his hoodie pockets. "If'n you can help us outta here."

Ladybug's bony arms drew up to protect his face, as if shielding himself from some threat he perceived. Although he hadn't been actively threatened by any of the bots in a long while, the general lack of contact with them (whilst they were awake, at least) made his memories of how cruel they were quite vivid, and his fear of robots quadrupled. And not to mention, he didn't want anyone seeing him like this. Not now, not ever. 

"I d-don't need help! I'm fine, I--"

His chest heaved and he sputtered out a series of dry coughs, wheezing and doubling over. His mask, the strap tattered and hanging on either side of his head, didn't fall off. It was too firmly pressed into his skin. 

"G-g-go away! R-robots don't.. they d-d-d-don't do any good for p-people like m-m-m-m-me!"

[ladybug-petervi]

"Hoo boy--" a brass bot with a shock of black hair was glaring Ladybug in the face. "You okay, buddy? 'Cause, I gotta say, you don't look so hot."

Ladybug blinked for a moment, staring at the strange automaton that stood in front of him. Suddenly, he screamed, reeling backwards and scrabbling on all fours in a frantic, almost crabwalk-esque fashion until he reached the farthest wall. 

"St-st-stay away from m-me! You're n-n-not supposed to be i-i-i-i-in here!"

[ladybug-petervi]

(( ah yes, i greatly enjoy the whistling sound of people passing and not giving a shit ))

[ladybug-petervi]

"I can hear them."

Ladybug was curled up on top of a dresser, his fingers twisted into the ratty mess of his hair. His mask was dark with blood, the edges of it jagged and digging into his skin--like it was pressed there and didn't want to come back out. He was shaking, just staring into the darkness of his bedroom. The floor was slick with something dark, blood or oil or something of the like.. whatever it was, it was everywhere, and he clearly wanted to avoid it. 

"I c-can hear them talking! Sh-sh-shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" 

He screamed at the mess, but it bore no response. Stumbling from his perch, he stomped into the darkness, yanking something from the smeared, blotched depths. In spidery fingers, he clutched a partially decayed human skull. 

"I s-s-s-said shut up! I don't--I didn't w-want to hurt you, but you--I--this is what g-g-g-g-good people do!"

Throwing the skull, he careened towards the wall and pressed himself against the dresser again. It was set in front of the door, holding it shut for now. He hadn't come from his bedroom in over a month, now; at least not in front of the robots. Everything was still clean and ready as usual, and the bots always got their repairs done (although they didn't recall when, and one could've sworn it was just something that occured during stasis),  but no one had really seen him. They hadn't bothered to check, either, apparently. Scraping jagged fingernails against the front of the dresser, the ratty-haired boy heaved a shaking sob and sank to the floor, his bony legs sliding in the filth of the mess he'd made. 

"I'm a good person, I'm.. I'm a g-g-good person.."