#extradirty
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occasionally subtle
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oozey mess
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if i look back, i am lost
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roma★
★
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@notkappa
TO: Kyle Klim
FROM: Sigma Klim
(1/3) Because people are dying and much to YOUR surprise, I’m sure, I am (2/3) I am (3/3) ,,,mmm,,,,
Give him 3 minutes.
(1/1) I AM CONCERNED ABOUT YOU. JUST BRUSH YOUR DAMNED TEETH.
It was a terrifying, awful pause.
TO: Dr. Sigma Klim FROM: Kyle Klim
I will brush my teeth. In return I expect you to brush your teeth as well. It is only fair.
TO: Kyle Klim
FROM: Sigma Klim
(1/3) Then you lose all of your employee benefits as well. (2/3) This includes access to poptarts, the internet, coin operated kiddie rides and teeth that don’t crack upon biting into strawberry shortcake. (3/3) In that case, you may consider your teeth, as they say: bye binch.
TO: Dr. Sigma Klim FROM: Kyle Klim
1/2 Why are you doing this 2/2 This isn’t fair.
TO: Kyle Klim
FROM: Sigma Klim
(1/1/) Are you brushing your teeth
TO: Dr. Sigma Klim FROM: Kyle Klim
Actually I have decided to quit dental hygiene. I am turning in my resignation on Monday.
I am not going to brush my teeth.
You watch as he makes his pondering all visible, uncannily confused by… who else is there to be confused by other than YOURSELF? You would wonder what bewilders him so (options being your appearance, how you talk, whether or not you are a threat), but you don’t like wasting time on things that will quickly pass once you get the BALL ROLLING. And by ball, you mean CONVERSATION. And by conversation, you mean INTERVIEW. By rolling, you mean RUSHING into another topic that you will actually enjoy.
[ ♉ ] TAVROS: tAVROS 1S MY NAME, 1 DON’T KNOW WHERE 1 GOT 1T, [ ♉ ] TAVROS: tHERE ARE A BUNCH OF TROLLS HERE AND 1′M TOO T1RED TO COUNT, bUT WE ARE A FORCE TO BE RECKONED W1TH, 1F RECKONED W1TH, [ ♉ ] TAVROS: aND THESE GAMES ARE ONLY GONNA BE HERE FOR A B1T, tHERE’S SOME FEST1VAL R1GHT NOW AND 1T’S GO1NG TO GO AWAY SOON,
[ ♉ ] TAVROS: sO YOU M1GHT WANNA KEEP PLAY1NG BEFORE 1T ALL RUNS OUT, aND MAYBE LET ME GET OUT MY CELLPHONE F1RST,
“You must have been given it by a parent or guardian of some sort, I would assume,” he said. After all, that’s where his had come from--although perhaps different cultures had different naming techniques, or something. Maybe one of the other trolls would know. Maybe it was silly for him to be worrying about this, when there were bigger things to deal with.
Kyle said, “Oh, I see!” and then, “But why do you need your cellphone? Is it going to run out very soon?” Cellphones had clocks in addition to their more communicative features, didn’t they?
He turned to the girl at the booth and said, “Is it alright if I play again? After this round, I will continue moving.” She tried very hard not to roll her eyes as she agreed. He took a dart in hand, and glanced back at his new acquaintance. Was he ready with his cellphone?
“Of course you didn’t. You were sorta asleep for the whole thing… Would’ve been hard to play, ya know. Heh.”
She laughed weakly, but it was getting harder and harder to believe this was all a mistake, all amnesia. Eventually she’d have to come accept that this was some sort of reality, but she found herself avoiding that all the while. At least it wasn’t her reality, she repeated to herself. She knew that, she remembered correctly. She had to. If she had died, she definitely would have known. That’s just a thing a person’s aware of, right? It wasn’t like she could have amnesia or anything. After all she remembered everything pretty clearly.
“Sorry, but that’s kinda weird too. I mean like that’s the name Akane went by.”
How did Kyle even know about that? Why would he consider himself K? He acted as if the name was something Clover would be more comfortable with and it was familiar, but. K was the name of the person she spent a good portion of the AB Game with. Kyle was not that person.
“The first time we met, or well, the first time I met you. When we opened the pod, you weren’t in the armor. And then afterwards, when you came and talked to me and Alice. You weren’t in the armor then either. Do you not remember any of that? I’m pretty sure you talked to the others too like Junpei and Quark, obviously Luna was taking care of you. And we all saw you in the pod too, but I mean I’m repeating myself. Wait, I guess it’s not all of us if you count Dio. But uh, I don’t think anyone cares about him.”
“Asleep,” he repeated, half-hearted. “Of course.”
Would that have been preferable? If he were asleep during the game, and sealed in a pod all along, it meant his father had never put him in that kind of danger--it meant he wouldn’t have died, or witnessed the deaths of the others (who, according to Clover, hadn’t died, either). But it meant he never would have even met them. When he awoke--if he awoke--he would still simply be alone. ...Maybe that was better, after all.
If nothing else, he wished he had had the chance to choose. But that right, like every other, rested solely with Sigma. Of course, he thought, asleep.
“Is it really,” he said. “Then call me Kyle. I don’t mind. That may be best, after all.”
Maybe it would have been easier to stomach if he had been asleep, and had never walked among them as K. It wouldn’t feel like such a loss of that identity if he had never worn it, would it? But he had, and he was--and for a moment he begrudged Akane even that, even as he recognized that her survival was akin to a miracle.
“No. I don’t remember that. I suppose that must have been a different... version, of myself. As I remember things, I played the game with all of you from within this armor, and called myself K, because I had no memory. Dio and Sigma were the only ones who saw my face. You are, however, correct on one point: I don’t think anyone cares about Dio, either.”
It’s not a response that surprises him, truth be told–always so rough, so aggressive in both his reactions and movements. Love is what softens you, isn’t? Be it feigned or real, love is what slows one’s movements, what provides them with a gentleness that allows them to connect with both others and the very world itself.
Love is what reduces the destruction induced by the human touch.
So this, every bit of it can only be accredited to his own negligence and errors, he’s well aware–well aware of the wrong he’s done unto his son, well aware of what it’s created.
So as Kyle pulls away, he looks at him, features unchanging and stoic and merely rolls his shoulders, prior to heaving a sigh. However, his gaze flickers back towards his son as he hears what can only be described as the onslaught of a choked sob–his gestures are sporadic, comprehensible to him and only him. Wordlessly, he draws out a handkerchief from his pocket, extending his arm as if he were to toss it in his direction–only to then hesitate and gradually pull back, clearing his throat as he gradually motions it towards him.
“You can cry, if you want.”
“I’d much rather you not poke an eye out with those fingers of yours. We match well enough as it is.”
A silence lingers and he rolls his shoulders once again–however, he looks at him. He looks at him and blinks, all upon hearing a single statement–the ‘I don’t knows.’ He looks at him, with what appears to be shock, a single eye widening and–
He laughs. He throws his head back and laughs a laugh strained with a bitterness, or perhaps a melancholy of his own–an unscrupulous sort of melancholy not fully understood by even himself.
His head bobs downwards, and his gaze levels–shaking his head, he speaks at last.
“I don’t know. Quite the surprise, isn’t it? The prospect of your deadbeat, villainous father not knowing something. The possibility that said deadbeat, villainous father is as human as you are. I don’t know, but sometimes, it’s better to relish in uncertainty. Sometimes, uncertainty is the exact factor one needs for a plan to succeed. After all–uncertainty is what provides us with risk, provides us with new possibilities. Would you believe me–…if I said you were one of the individuals who taught me this?”
He heaves a breath once more, a lone eye darting to the side.
“Do you,” he says, a pang of anxiety resonating in his stomach for the first time in centuries. Such a foreign, yet familiar feeling–a state of being he was far too accustomed to. Yet, this time it was different. This time–…
It was a matter of knowing that for once he had no control over his son’s fate, or the risks that could plague him. If something were to happen, for once…
It wouldn’t be in his hands.
Yet–
“Do you want to take off the suit?”
A handkerchief? A gesture of support? It isn’t like him (and for a moment, Kyle considers the idea--but it has to be him, it has to), it isn’t expected, it is absolutely not alright. It doesn’t help, either.
Of course he can cry. He doesn’t need permission, he thinks angrily, while he begins to cry once again. What he wouldn’t give for a concrete reason to refuse the handkerchief! Just to spite his father’s kindness, now that it’s been finally, awfully offered. But. But that would mean succumbing to the spontaneity of emotion. For a moment, Kyle considers that idea, too.
...But he takes the handkerchief, after a pause. He wipes his eyes delicately, and mumbles something about how it would be quite the feat to poke out his own eyes with fingers this blunt, and doesn’t meet his father’s gaze. At least, he tries not to--but when he hears laughter, he finds himself looking up. What could there possibly be to laugh about? ...Should he be laughing too? But he doesn’t know what’s funny. Kyle watches with bleary, desperate eyes, and tries to understand where the sudden mirth is coming from.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he finds himself saying, and hears that echo again: I don’t know. I don’t know.
“Aren’t you supposed to know everything? Isn’t that part of your job? How can uncertainty be a factor when you’ve been planning for years and years? Have I really done anything besides interfere with your all-important project?”
He certainly can’t have taught his all-knowing, all-controlling (human, uncertain) father anything. And so what if, as an infant, he was cherished briefly for what he represented--success, and human life, and warmth, and hope? He doesn’t represent any of those things anymore. Maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe, maybe--
Maybe when his father extends the offer, it’s because he doesn’t matter anymore, because it’s not worth caring, now that they’re here.
(Maybe it’s because he’s free to care as much as he can, as much as he never could before, and he’s decided to care about what Kyle wants, for once.)
His jaw tightens and releases, and his mouth moves silently for a moment before he speaks. He says, first, “No,” and then, “I don’t know. Do I? Do you think it’s worth it? Is there anything to be gained in this city by looking like a human being?”
“Well, it was…”
She found herself lacking in her usual confidence, for some reason. Wasn’t it fall when she was taken? So why was the city in springtime? Her calendars showed the current month as April, so it wasn’t just another hemisphere. Did they keep her out for an entire winter, or was it that they have artificial weather, too?
“…2021. It was definitely 2021.”
Wasn’t it?
“Y-yes. Yes, exactly like in a mystery novel.”
Jyotsna could help but grin at that – after all, mystery novels were what got her into the whole thing in the first place.
“Well, in reality, there’s a lot more menial work than in fiction. Files to keep track of, info to gather, data to analyze. You don’t just catch a murderer every day, of course. But that’s not to say it’s without any glory.”
Wasn’t she in the middle of looking into… some… thing before she was taken? No, that didn’t make sense. What would she have been working on? Her mentor didn’t have any cases for her, and she couldn’t work alone, so what was it? Was it anything?
“Now that you have met one, you can confirm that we are excellent.”
2021?
“I don’t know what this city considers its year,” he said, “but when I was abducted, it was January of the year 2074, I believe. Although... I did lose some of my memory, so I may be wrong. My father and his partner were taken from 2029 or so. I don’t know what month that was. You don’t have to believe me, but at least consider that it seems strange.”
She probably wasn’t going to believe him. At least he had the armor to back up his point--although that was hardly proof, either.
For all the time he had had to read, he didn’t know mystery novels very well at all. He nodded as if he knew what she was talking about.
“I see,” he said, and “I understand.” He didn’t. He said, “You are indeed excellent. I’m sure your work is very important to maintaining the peace of mind of the citizens of the place that you are from. Have you caught a lot of murderers? Or maybe other kinds of criminals?”
“…Boy. You said it yourself–you don’t understand my motives. How could you possibly agree with something you know nothing of?
Always so quick to assume the worst of me. I haven’t the time for relaxation–nor will I ever. There’s still work to be done here, still duties for myself to fulfill. But you…
You’ve fulfilled your role in my little scheme as well as witnessed the fruition of–or rather a part of–my efforts. You’ve played my game. To some extent, you know… know what I worked towards all these years. You don’t know anything about me at all, you said. Then I’ll start with this:”
He leans forward, snaking a singled gloved hand around Kyle’s neck to meet the back of his head–his index finger presses against the button with ease, as if he’d memorized every detail, every nook and cranny of that suit he wore.
Unlocked. So he’d been abducted during that timeline.
It’s then that he brings yet another to Kyle’s helmet, now grasping his head by the sides–wordlessly, he slips said helmet off, his gaze now meeting that of a boy who wore the same face as him.
“I was 46 when you were born. I was in what one could call a depressive slump–the worst I’ve yet to experience in my lifetime. Everything… felt so hopeless. I wondered why, why I was forced to carry this burden for the sake of a world that would scorn me. I wondered what use there was in trying, I dreaded the life I lived and the little substance it had, everyday was… nothing more than a blur. I resorted to smoking as a recreational activity, knowing well that it would be a detriment to my health despite my inability to die as any other.
I had to create you… for something great. Something greater than the both of us. I did it because I had to. I’d failed quite a few times prior to your birth–but your nativity… it was different. You cried–so powerfully, so loudly it shook the base. It was the most dreadful yet… liveliest sound I had heard in decades.
After the general precautions and medical procedures were done and dealt with, I heaved you into my arms. All of you… was me. Every bit of you. I stared. I stared, and you stared back as I held you… it had been so long since I last felt warmth in my arms. You looked at me and reached out, and for the first time in decades– …rather, a millennium, I felt… affection… care…”
“I felt… love for another human being. I felt the desire to keep moving onwards, the desire to live.
Perhaps the truth of the matter is that I am the villain. To you, to the participants of the Ambidex Game, to the very world itself. I still have a duty to fulfill and there is always work to be done–I cannot tell you what will become of your fate, nor can I tell you everything regarding my own plans.
However, for once: …I can provide you with an answer to your questions.”
It’s a struggle not to flinch away when his father reaches back, around, to touch the base of his skull--that most vulnerable section of the armor. It’s a struggle not to recoil or turn away. He’s simply not used to the contact. But this isn’t the time to draw back, and it’s not the time to turn things around, to make them all about him, and his struggles, and his problems; even as Kyle thinks this, he realizes how subservient he’s been forced to become. Even as he listens, in silence. Even as he meets his father’s eyes.
Of course he didn’t have time to relax. Of course he didn’t so much as have time to humor Kyle’s needs--but he's still talking, and...
The words slip and tumble over him. It’s impossible; it’s overwhelming; it’s easy to become lost in the immediate need to understand. To justify what’s happening. To rationalize it away as inevitable, part of the scheme, part of the plan. But the reality is that it isn’t, and it can’t be: his father is here, and is talking to him, openly, for once, and here Kyle can barely so much as pay attention--
And here Kyle, paying attention, finds himself terrified. It’s not possible. It can’t be possible. He can’t let himself believe in this, because his eyes are bitterly hot and wet and something in his throat, some terrible lump, has started to choke him. Twenty-two years, and now? You build a living hell, you engineer death and hurt and misery, and now?
He waits, he waits. He watches, waiting. And when his father has finished speaking, he pulls rather roughly away, wiping his eyes angrily with metal fingers.
“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” he says with some bitterness. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this now,” and, unexpectedly, his voice breaks. He brings up a hand to cover his mouth. His eyes stare at the ground, unseeing. His shoulders shake. His face, now bare--unfamiliarly revealed--must contort terribly. From within, it’s difficult to tell.
When he’s confident he can speak without faltering, he says softly, “I haven’t prepared any questions. I wasn’t expecting you to... offer. Like this. Please give me some time.”
signyan replied to your post: I’m going to punch my father in the face.
I DID NOTHING
This is not true.
“Out of order…?”
Come to think of it, hadn’t someone told her that they were in some ridiculous year? 2016? 15? She didn’t have the year set to show on her phone or computer, so she hadn’t had a moment to really think about it. But, speaking of which, both of them seemed to be somewhat older models than what she was used to.
“…No, that’s silly. It’s not literally possible to go back in time. It’s most likely the city’s just using older designs and the like for… whatever reason.”
Oh, she just had to run her mouth, didn’t she. Now she was going to have to really make her accomplishments sound impressive – they weren’t exactly special compared to some of the things she’d heard in the city.
“Ehem. Well. Least impressive is that I was the captain of my kendo team in high school. Moreso is that I’ve never lost a match so long as I’ve held the position. Aside from that, I’ve assisted in solving several cases which resulted in incarceration – but that was just a warmup. I’m a full-fledged detective now.”
And all at 17. Hopefully, he’d treat her like an adult.
Denial, then. A valid enough tactic until confronted with the reality of the situation. He supposed it wasn’t his job to show it to her; if she was as observant as she claimed, wouldn’t she have to figure things out sooner or later? Still, as a reaction to her simple dismissal, he had to say something.
“What year was it when you were abducted?” he said simply. 2074, he thought, and he thought about his father, and Akane.
He listened to her list in benign silence. High school? The mere fact of her having attended was more interesting to him than any kendo club. (He didn’t say that, though. It would have sounded strange.) Something about cases...? Oh! A detective! His eyes widened in polite surprise. His LED eyes changed also, to express this.
“Really, a detective? Like in a mystery novel? Have you solved any very interesting murders? What is it like? I’ve never met a detective before.”
He hadn’t really met anyone before, but especially not someone so talented and, in his own mind, glamorous... famous... important. It was very easy to imagine possibilities, in the lack of information.
I’m going to punch my father in the face.
✿ܓ
“You seem respectable and fairly competent, although if pressed I would be forced to admit I know next to nothing about you. I’m sure you will succeed in your chosen field. Your glasses are also rather striking.”
He seemed a bit lighthearted and prone to jokes – was that good, or annoying? She couldn’t really tell. Considering how he was agreeing with her, it seemed okay.
“I know what you mean. Metaphorically speaking, time does seem out of whack here. Probably because we’ve been so mercilessly ripped from our lives, everything we experience feels wrong or strange.”
Still going with the metaphor thing, aren’t you.
“Well. I’m not normal, no. I’m exceptional. If you’d like to know my accomplishments, I’m willing to share them. However, don’t expect those to be my standard. They’re nothing compared to what I’m capable of now.”
That was one side of herself she was willing to share, but when she did so, people didn’t always seem to take it well for some reason. Sometimes, they got annoyed with her. She wasn’t sure why.
Metaphorically speaking. Well. Okay.
“I suppose that’s also true,” he said. “Although before I was taken here, things were already rather strange. And now I find that they become stranger and stranger. Time may be metaphorically ‘out of whack’, but it is also literally out of order.”
It was only going to confuse her, probably, but didn’t she deserve to know as much as he did? They were both stuck here, after all.
At her next words, however, Kyle was impressed.
“Exceptional? Where exactly do your special talents lie? I won’t judge you by your prior accomplishments, if you choose to share them. I know well that people can grow and change over time.”
✿ܓ Looks to the sky
“I admire your work in the field of human cloning.”
“Honestly, I can’t imagine what you must have been through. In many respects, I don’t know anything about you at all. I was very lonely for a long time. I was very angry with you. That being said… you must have also been very lonely, and very angry. I don’t understand your motives. I don’t necessarily agree with them. But you’ve worked very hard. To some extent, I have to admire that.
…You don’t have to make yourself the villain. Here, at least, you should finally be able to relax… You don’t have to be ‘Zero’.”
Send me "✿ܓ" for a compliment from my muse to yours.
herokind:
You weigh the two options. K? KYLE? While both have ONE (1) SYLLABLE, Kyle has FOUR (4) LETTERS while K only has ONE (1) LETTER. One is the best number there is, because it is a number for the best, so, with the option, you engage your preference. Unfortunately for you, you have interrupted K’s quest of ultimate failure. But hey, if he’s talking to you, maybe you two can go and watch him fail at something else. It’s a mean intention, but you know that you’re really just being a great person by hanging out with him.
[ ♉ ] TAVROS: n1CE FOR YOU TO MEET ME, k, [ ♉ ] TAVROS: 1′M tAVROS n1TRAM AND 1 AM THE BEST TROLL, [ ♉ ] TAVROS: (oR PERSON, oR SENT1ENT BE1NG,) [ ♉ ] TAVROS: tHAT YOU W1LL EVER MEET, [ ♉ ] TAVROS: cONGRATULAT1ONS, [ ♉ ] TAVROS: wHAT BR1NGS YOU HERE TO, uHH,
You gesture to the game booth.
[ ♉ ] TAVROS: ,,, aTTEMPT,
Kyle had resolved himself earlier not to stare, but there was a moment now where he did just that. It wasn’t the horns, or the gray skin, or anything. It was trying to understand what Tavros was saying, and how Kyle was expected to react.
“Yes, it’s nice to meet you, too,” he said, although that was not quite what Tavros had told him to begin with. “I’ve never heard a name like Tavros before,” he said, although he had not heard very many names at all, except in books. “And I don’t think I’ve met any trolls before, either,” he said, although he did not comment on what Tavros had said about being the superlative best.
He looked back at the game booth, where the girl immediately sat up straight with her most patient smile. “I don’t really know,” he said. “I’ve only just arrived in this city, so I was exploring. Is this always here?”
