#assetrisen

[fatherofmachine-a]

OOC; Juno and I luring @modifiedcode​ & @assetrisen​ back to their POI blogs like—

[griim]

@assetrisen​ Dollhouse plotted starter. 

Late nights of drinking and research had produced nothing, and a part of her wondered if her father had given up the whole Dollhouse thing. Because if he had, that made her life that much easier, not needing to worry that Matthew would someday recapture her and put her back in that hell. But what could she do if there was no evidence supporting the existence? Nearly calling it a night, something popped up on her screen, a familiar name and face. ‘Shaw? No. No fucking way…’ Sitting up, she enlarged the photo, and sure enough, it was her. Taking a closer look, she even recognized the license plant. It belonged to the house. Gemma would know that license plate anywhere. “Well, looks like either mistaken identity or they have something planned.” Following the car, to wherever it was going, she managed to find the building, one she had passed several times. ‘How could I be so fucking stupid. Of course, they would hide in semi-plane sight. They got away with that once.’ She scolded herself and began to pull up blueprints of the building. If she was going to go in, Gemma needed to make sure this would go off without a hitch.

“I’m comin’ Shaw,” even if the two did not have a friendship, the time they passed one another during the service made up for that. And, if the house got ahold of that mind, who knows what they could do with it. This was what worried her the most, she figured Shaw could handle herself, but she was not going to leave her hanging. After arriving, Gemma used the cover of night to sneak near a guard. Subduing them, she put on the uniform, and after shuttering briefly, she began to make her way through. All of this seemed like muscle memory. However, the terror still dwelled beneath the surface. Reaching a door, she used the badge on the uniform and slipped into the stairwell. Making her way down, she hoped that this would not end with a fight. But, in typical fashion, she brought weapons in case. Reaching where she believed the house was, she opened the door and slipped in. Things seemed quiet, far too uneventful for her liking. Her eyes scanned the area for the woman she was here for. The others would have to wait.

As feet walked along the carpet, memories of her time here made their way to the front of her mind. Deep inside, her mind screamed that she should not be here, that this could all have been a trap, and she was stupid enough to fall for it. However, she quickly rationalized it, knowing that if she sat back while they continued, who knows what they would do. "Shaw..." Gemma mutters, "come on... Don't tell me they dolled you up. I don't have the equipment to fix that shit." Gemma continued as she walked through the house, seemingly going unnoticed.

[fatherofmachine-a]

V; & I REMAIN WORRIED﹐  ABOUT WHAT SOMEONE ELSE MIGHT BUILD. SOMEONE WHO WASN’T WORRIED. ( .exe AU )

THE HARD DETAILS about this verse are now written in the verses page !!

❝ Oh … sometimes I wonder  if we couldn’t have done SOMETHING more … meaningful. ❞

The REASON he’d been so buried in his own work,  DESPITE the fact that it was unnecessary,  lurked beneath the surface of those words.  With the PROSPECT of The Machine,  Harold could see just how much good  they could have done.  Of course,  the RISKS were overbearing  &  likely too heavy for one pair of shoulders to bear,  but … but … all they were doing  now was making MONEY.  Nothing more  &  nothing LESS  &  it was slowly  beginning to drive Harold DEEPER into a place of pointlessness.  They had built IFT to change the world …  &  yet,  when they had the opportunity,  they had backed out  &  opted for just making MONEY,  instead.

❛ … You mean the D. O. D  project. ❜

NATHAN turned to look  at him,  brows TENSING like he was about to move into a lecture.  They’d had these CONVERSATIONS before … Harold couldn’t seem  to STOP thinking about it  &  at this  point,  he couldn’t help but feel like Nathan was tired  of circling back to it.  Harold had almost gotten KILLED,  this he knew ….  &  this was likely why his friend’s tone had a tinge  of IRRITATION weaved throughout.

❛ Harold,  that’s ANCIENT history. ❜

Barely half a second  passed  &  Harold felt himself BRISTLING—–he pushed  the feeling ASIDE,  however,  in place of a light  enthusiasm.

❝ I know,  but I SOMETIMES think that maybe  if we’d have kept TRYING,  maybe  it would’ve worked.  Maybe we could’ve  STOPPED those other attacks. ❞

Thin lips were curling  UPWARD with a giddy excitement that expanded within his chest,  as it was something Harold had ALWAYS wanted  to build,  if he were HONEST—–

❛  —–or  the attacks would’ve happened REGARDLESS.  We made the choice  that was right for US.  &  you can bet  if the government wants a system like that,  they’ll GET IT someday,  if they don’t have it already. ❜

(  &  you can bet if the government wants a system like that,  they’ll get it someday,  if they don’t have it already. )

THAT statement was what brought Harold back to the beginning.  He found it DIFFICULT to believe  that if anyone were to build the government a system with that much  POWER,  with so many unprecedented capabilities … that they would give ENOUGH THOUGHT to the safety  of people,  the PROTECTION of people’s rights.  They WOULDN’T be careful enough.  That idea ALONE had settled a heavy,  STIFLING feeling of worry  &  ANXIETY within his chest.  Thus,  Harold couldn’t stop himself from giving it one … more … try.

It took several  hours  &  Harold had long since lost track of TIME.  Once the SYSTEM was again  brought online,  Harold was adjusting the camera,  to ensure it had EYES as well as ears.

❝ There we go.  Now … can you SEE me ?  ❞

The Machine took a few seconds to analyze him,  horizontal  &  then vertical lines sweeping over his face,  followed by dots mapping out his features.  Then,  the YELLOW BOX appeared.  Blue eyes flickered down to regard his image on the screen before he again spoke.

❝ EXCELLENT.  Next  question: WHO AM I ? ❞

There was barely  a HALF SECOND of delay before the word ADMIN appeared on the right side,  next to the yellow box that encompassed his features  &  again,  eyes flickered down to regard the screen.  Harold couldn’t stop  the JOYOUS smile that bloomed across thin lips—–PERHAPS he had done it  this time ?

If the government already  HAD a system,  however … what was he to do if he HAD succeeded ?

[analoginterface]

[!] starter requested recipient: @assetrisen​

   Emptiness is what it is. She’d been searching for the right word for the feeling for months now. Or was it weeks? Time was beginning to run together without — Regardless, it was emptiness. Silence. A stillness. A quiet inside her mind. But an empty hole carved from her torso. The feeling of her chest being caved in was a daily occurrence. It was a waking nightmare to have to re-calibrate herself to a functioning level before going about her daily routines. Even now, waiting for Simon Lee to emerge, the silence was crushing.

Shaw’s voice pulled her from her reflection, and she looked away - unable to think of what to say in response. Any other time, she’d offer a smile. A quirky quip to make Sameen roll her eyes. And yet.

The next few events happened in quick succession - the sound of gunfire providing an odd sense of comfort. At least it was there. Loud. Overpowering. The static missing from her implant had her teeth on edge, as if she were biting into something too hard over and over and over —

As they left the building, Root reached out towards the asset, fingers brushing too soft against her wrist. Softness was not needed. She needed to be pulled apart, torn asunder, put back together like the pieces of an old computer. Broken. Repaired. Over. And - Swallowing against the threatening spiral of dissociation, she tugged at Shaw to pull her to the side.

Talking to her about her feelings would not pass over well, so instead — “It’s planning to kill him. Finch will be contacting me soon to go over what we’ve learned, how we can help him.” Her voice twisted at the end, a slight edge of disgust and venom coating the words as if ‘help’ was the exact opposite of what she wanted to do then. Figuring out her own reasoning and motivation at the moment was beginning to become.. difficult. Moreso than usual.

“We have a moment.” Wrinkling her nose, she remembered that she’d set a precedent. Lying through her teeth, she continued, “Four minutes exactly.”

[analoginterface]

‘ who else is gonna put up with me this way? ’ - @assetrisen​

Coming from Shaw, it was almost romantic. The words, not the inflection. But Root was an expert in deciphering the hard lines of her face, the way narrowing of her eyes, the way she was decidedly not looking at her. Instead of replying immediately, Root only lifted a hand to touch Shaw’s cheek, turning her head gently so she would look at her. 

Much more domestic and normal than the two of them really liked to get, but they were alone and it would be some time before Harold or John arrived.  “No one better. I get the sole luxury of putting up with you, and don’t you forget it.” 

She punctuated it with a kiss, too soft for the moment. Too soft for Shaw to be happy with, too. So she let go immediately and chuckled, “Who’s kneecaps are we ruining today, sweetie? I’ve been itching for some action.” 

[analoginterface]

‘ what are you trying to do, kill me? ’ - @assetrisen​

Root smirked--- A simple reaction, but it fit nonetheless. A huff of a chuckle reverberated between them. “Sweetie, if I were trying to kill you, you would know.” And she would, but thankfully the time they’d spent together, Root had only tried to maim or torture her-- Not necessarily kill. And yet, being stuck in this safe house was the the least bit of Shaw’s worries. The accusation was nothing short of amusing.  

“Now, do you want to pass the time doing something more fun or no? I don’t know about you, but having at least...” She clicked her tongue, and stared off into space for a moment-- Listening. “Seven more hours to kill sounds like the most boring thing in the world to do.. alone.” The smirk quirked, as did her eyebrows. “Don’t you want to talk?” 

[analoginterface]

' you fucking died! ' - @assetrisen​

      “I didn’t have a choice!” The words came out sharp-- shaped like knives, meant to embed into Sameen and drive her point home. Her body followed suit--- A half step forward, body leaning, finger pointing. No. Jamming into her chest. The picture of someone angry ( hurt ), and ready to defend her ill-timed decision she’d made with The Machine. Even as her body tightened and wound up against itself, Root continued. “Just like you didn’t have a choice in the damn stock market!” 

And there it was the hammer against the dam, unleashing a flow of anger and emotion that threatened to drown and batter at Shaw. “If it wasn’t me, it was Harold. It was John. It was you for fuck’s sake.” The curses littered through her words were the fuel propelling the crescendo of her tone forward, near hysterics. “If you hadn’t sacrificed yourself, it was all of us. Am I not allowed to do the same for the greater good?! To protect the ones I love?!”

Her steps continued, pushing Sameen, crowding her space. “I died, so you could live. I died so The Machine could stand a fighting chance. So Harold would break free of his god-forsaken shackles that bound him only to good and good alone.” And that was it, everything that had been buried within, now out in the open. “Am I not allowed to be the ‘good guy’?” No, that was it. That was the key that unlocked the door to a shuddering breath and the tension in her body to release, causing it to sag. Useless skin and bones, useless pain, useless-- useless--- The word stuck in her mind, repeating, repeating. She sagged further until her knees gave way and she was on the cement floor--- not the subway, a new floor. Something similar, yet different. After all, she died ( the world changed, moved on. was she nothing but a harbinger of grief? ). 

The body leaned, her forehead colliding softly with fabric and flesh.

       “I’m sorry.” 

[analoginterface]

[!] REQUESTEDSTARTER.txt recipient: @assetrisen

   “Sameen.” It’s her usual greeting with her usual lilt of tease, with no hint of anything underneath. Not with one word at least. She’s not wearing her customary dress or holding her customary new choice of lip color, as she would be here in the department store where she was sure Shaw was just picturing the deaths of each and every co-worker. Instead, her face was pale and clammy, and she favored one leg over the other. “Think you could take your lunch now?” She glanced towards the cameras, then shifted to turn her back towards it. This time the pain in her voice was obvious.