I'm currently drafting up the OC interactions scenarios between the members of Outpost 51 and Polaroid, since he's relocated to a new site for temporary recovery, after being severely injured in Russia in an Astro confrontation.
Paralipsis isn't glad about the new development, nor the addition of another unit on base, but doesn't have the authority to turn down an official order issued by the chief artillery engineer of the Alliance (Styro).
Polaroid gets his private ward on the base, and Sawmus takes care of his needs. After he regains some strength, he begins exploring Outpost 51 out of curiosity and encounters Hubble out of pure luck.
Hubble has been curious about this newcomer for a while, but never gets the chance to have a formal greeting. Paralipsis only informed the occupants on base that a camera unit, which is a special ops sniper and a member of the Alliance artillery development team, is going to stay on the base for medical reasons.
Apparently, Hubble is physically superior to Polaroid in many ways, but Polaroid has a youthful and optimistic charisma. Polaroid admires Hubble's physical capacity, while Hubble respects Polaroid for his resourcefulness in tech. Sometimes, the two would play Battleship (space edition, because why not) to bond or exchange stories with one another.
Additionally, the sequestration doesn't limit the amount of shenanigans being exchanged.
Polaroid suspected Tattle & Prattle were twins due to their shared mischievous disposition. Guess he just needs more time to familiarize himself with the personnel on base.
Very excited to see what you do!!! Going to be a fun time for sure <3
Hubble is so happy to have made a friend! Probably also impressed with Polaroid's aim too (Since Hubble can't hit anything 8'3 so good aim is so impressive to the guy)
But oh the shenanigans on the window! You can bet Prattle and Tattle are going to draw so many things back and forth with Polaroid. If he isn't careful, they are going to declare him a "bro"!
also probably others drawing things on the window....
Medic would write some encouragement on the window and pay a visit. Little gal always likes to be positive energy on the base. Hubble also maybe got Biggs to make a Hazelnut Latte... if someone needs a pick me up c:
(Who knows who drew the chicken bot picture...)
Biggs and Tremolo would warn Polaroid that an "armadillo with a knife" is roaming the base. Best to watch out for that little guy....
...and the twins do draw some memes but sometimes draw some kind of spooky, cryptic things on the window...but probably means nothing, right?
(Outpost 51 sometimes feels a little isolated, a little spooky at times. But that is probably just because it is far from everything)
Another finished fic that was sitting on my desktop that I am editing quick before I go to bed <3 Enjoy!
Title: Breakneck Speed
Rating: PG-13
Featured Characters: Hubble (cameraman OC), Civic (The dad camera OC), Paralipisis (The meanie TV being Meanie), The twins (OC speakermen wandering around) ; Prattle and Tattle (they pop in briefly to be dorks)
Trigger Warning: talk of war, blood, and death; trauma; a camera chicken bot being bullied
Summary: No matter how fast you run, some things are far more persistent in catching up eventually.
Dawn was a sliver of red on the horizon, like the deep purple of the night sky had been cut deep by some great hand. That gaping wound of the approaching day looked like spilled blood to Hubble, bright red and vibrant although it carried none of the pungent smell of cut open flesh. Human blood was bright red as it exited the body, only to crust over to a tacky brown and smelt of iron. It was so different than the fluids that dripped from the wounds of units.
Hubble could remember seeing blood for the first time.
He had been taking position to cover units, rushing up a building stairwell and found a group of humans huddled together, dead, crushed under rubble that had fallen. The blood had spread like a red ocean and smelled of iron and some stench that only living things seem to produced. It was a smell Hubble could never describe or place.
It was omething strange.
Something that gave him a second of pause before he was moving on with the memory of that bright red stain circling around his head. The growing gash of dawn made him think of those times.
Now as he shifted from foot to foot, eyes on the horizon, he couldn’t help but see the coming dawn like that spreading pool of life, coming out from tangled bodies in the war zone.
The dawn this morning was a very bright red, bathing all the stones and sand of the deserted in muted oranges and purples. It made the earth look like it was bleeding too. Hubble paused a moment at that, tense and feeling that familiar tremor as the old memories wanted to creep up.
Blood.
Units bled differently. They bled in different colors, different fluids. Clear coolant or shades of blue, mixed with black of oil and the grease of lubricant. Sparks that came flickering out of broken wires, threatening to catch fire if too close to those pools of black. Gaping bleeding holes that opened up before his eyes, yawning like mouths-
Hubble gave a shake of his head as he pulled off his earphones. Those memories of the war were not what he needed to focus on now. In the moment, all he had to focus on was the goals he had set himself this morning. Hubble started to jump from foot to foot again, hopping like a runner preparing to warm up. He focused on his systems, giving a flush of his cooling fans loudly, letting them rev up until they were humming loudly. That sound could distract him, because it meant he was getting ready to move.
He was going to be running, as fast as he could, to get to the best vantage point. The loud revving was like adrenaline in his veins, an electricity lighting up every circuit in his body from head to toe. He jumped from foot to foot, giving a slow easy run in place before he stilled.
His fans went silent and he dropped low into a runner’s crouch. His internal clock ticked down the seconds, like a breath.
Three.
Two.
One.
He was off like a flash, moving forward with speed that no other unit could match. Everything about him was built for this moment. The bend of his legs gave him more power to push down, opening his stride and propelling him forward in longer strides. He was on his tip toes, barely feeling like he was touching the earth at all. It felt like he was flying at times with how fast he moved. The wind was riding with him at his back, like it was going to catch him and carry him away, out across the desert, out away from everything and leave his past lost in the desert.
His gaze was fixed ahead, always ahead, on the future, on what was coming, because he could do something there. He saw what was coming and could react. There was a rise of rocks leading to towering cliffs.
Already his head twitched, turning quickly in small bursts to take in every fissure and crack in the rocks, noting them like he noted everything.
Prattle and Tattle teased him about his head twitches. They said it made him look more like a bird or some ungainly chicken moving around. He tried to keep it controlled, didn’t want to look odd, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help it that his gaze locked on every little movement of people’s bodies. How their heads tilted, the small movements that linked to how they felt.
Hubble noticed things because it was in his programming and build to notice every little thing.
Medic was sad, but she wouldn’t say why. She was tense and quiet, not speaking to anyone about what was bothering her, bottling it up because she wanted to be there for everyone else first. That she was dating someone, but it felt like going through the motions just to settle. How he still saw her glance towards Paralipsis when the TV’s back was turned.
Prattle and Tattle weren’t laughing as much and when they did, the sound was hollow, not genuine. Hubble had heard they were told if they tried to contact the titan again for their shenanigans, they were going to be put in prison and have a long time to think about it. Something happened, Hubble could tell that. There was scuffs on both of them. He was sure they were roughed up, some fear put in them. They were quiet because they would never get to see a friend again, someone that was important in their lives.
Paralipsis treated him terribly, but Hubble knew he wasn’t the real target given how the TV never looked right at him. The gaze of the large TV was always staring past slightly, like Paralipsis was trying to get at someone else he couldn’t touch. How there was a slump to his whole form, like a soft acceptance of some fate already per-determined. There was an aching, quiet sadness to him and the TV hated being seen like that. Hubble made the mistake of saying something once. Maybe that is why Paralipsis hated him, because he had seen him and that was something that the TV would not tolerate.
Tremolo was off on his own, quiet and murmuring to himself. He did that always around certain dates or triggers. It spiraled worse and worse each time and Hubble wondered if whatever was wrong was getting worse. He sometimes swore he heard the static rumbling in Tremolo’s head, because it was the same static in his own head. Those haunted memories that kept replaying over and over despite Hubble trying to make them go away. The static could get so loud, but in Tremolo’s mind, it was probably a screaming choir, loud like the titan that had nearly taken his life.
All his friends had something wrong. Something not right, and it hurt Hubble that he couldn’t do anything to try and help them. So he ran. He ran and ran, his head witching, noting every rock and crack in the dirt as he went, as if he could run fast enough and find some solution beyond the horizon.
His foot hit the first patch of rocky terrain and his legs coiled before he was leaping forward, his hands catching onto the edge of higher rocks as he started to climb upwards as sure-footed as a mountain goat. The flaps along his head flicked open and closed, helping to him to jump up higher and higher. His fans were whirring and with small bursts, his rockets engaged to give him just that small jump upward, doing literal double jumps like he was in a video game. His mind was on the movement and nothing else. Not on the people at the outpost growing more tired.
Not on his own past that chased him like the rays of the sun over the earth, bright red with deep black shadows, splattered over the earth and chasing him upwards as he climbed. Not on how much he wanted to break free of his past so he could try and help the others to break free from whatever was holding them back.
The future was before him and he climbed and with a final heave up onto the top of the highest point, standing in his triumph as he reached the final goal of his run. It was a slip of land on a mesa with barely any place to stand, but he found his perch, locking himself securely in, balanced perfectly like a bird on the branch of a tree. Up here though, he didn’t feel like the chicken or songbird the others teased that he was. Up here, he was a bird of prey with talons ready and eyes sharp, ready to make his shot.
This was where Hubble was supposed to be, in his element. Carefully he pulled the riffle from his back and with practiced ease, he clicked off the safety and loaded and locked in the ammo before setting it to his shoulder. He had no need to put it out along the ground as he could handle its weight and the knock-back of the rifle. His lens flexed out and from here, he could see the entire world, feeling as tall as a titan.
He could see the outpost and see people outside moving about. He saw Civic packing up the truck to go out to work, favoring one leg over the other with more of a limp as he pushed himself, always lost in his work or doing something to raise the spirits of others, often forgetting to take care of himself.
The twins were rushing about, always lost in their own world because they didn’t understand the world everyone else was living in, despite how much they tried. How Hubble knew at some point they might just wander off because there was nothing left to ground them down to everything. Mr. Biggs was out and about, always lost in the memories he no longer knew and how scary that was, although the giant speaker never spoke of that.
Everyone was quietly falling apart, like something in the outpost was picking them apart, giving no answers, and breaking them down like forgotten relics. Hubble kept tense, lens trailing over them before he was swinging his gaze out over the desert, locking in on a bouncing tumbleweed.
He let the end of his riffle trail along it as he curled a finger around the trigger.
One shot. He just had to make one shot and that would fix everything.
His finger tensed on the trigger, but seem to be rigid as he kept his riffle on the moving weed.
One shot.
The weed was a skibidi now, snarling and gnashing teeth as it bore down on a camereman. The two were struggling with each other, cursing back and forth while the cameraman in the brown coat did all he could to try and get his assailant off him.
He just had to make the shot. Just one shot.
One-
Hubble’s head twitched to the side as he pulled the trigger. The shot went wide, cracking against baked desert earth and sending dust upwards but in that moment, in the red of that dawn, it was like a burst of oil, a shot right through the chest, blood from the skibidi mixing with it.
Red and black.
Bodies all were the same when they were on the ground and there were no more factions to care about. They slaughtered each other just to lay down like brothers, blood mixing together. Black and red, cooling together. A body on the ground, a body-
Hubble was trembling as he sat there, gun in hand before he blew out his fans, reeving them to calm himself down. He missed a shot, but it was just one shot. He pumped the chamber for the next one, rifle up again, focused again on the target.
He just had to make one shot, and then his crime would be forgiven.
Just one shot.
He fired off again and the shot went wide against rocks. Another shot and it hit into earth, splattering more dirt upwards in small clouds.
Hubble didn’t get frustrated. There was no point in getting upset. He just continued to do what his programming had dictate. Line up the shot and take it. Eliminate the target. Move if need be to a better vantage or to avoid attacks.
The rifle clicked empty once, then twice. Hubble felt that fear creep up, the past at his back. It had climbed up after him, claws at the ready to pounce on him and remind him of what happened next. The horde of enemies coming in as he just stood there. For once, he couldn’t move, like every part of him that knew how to run, had shut down.
Then arms about him, dragging him away. Blood was everywhere. All over him. On his hands, staining them as he clutched onto the body that fell on top of him, hiding him. Nothing was working. Nothing in his mind could click. That void of all thoughts gone-
Hubble gave a loud reeve of his fans and his whole body jolted, remembering it could move and he could move fast. Faster than any unit. He could outrun the wind, and he would outrun the past. He would run right through the present and into the future, breaking through it all like a sea of broken glass. He shifted, securing the rifle to his back again before letting himself fall backwards from his post. His head was moving again, making note of every handhold and ledge as he unfolded his legs and began to move, pushing off one wall to another, sliding down and letting himself move again.
He was born to move. Everything in his body knew where to be and how to get where he wanted. His lens picked it up quickly and his AI processed faster to make his reaction times quicker. His fans were reeving as he hit the ground and then was taking off across the ground. The landscape was a blur of reds, now fading away to oranges, the dawn giving way to proper daylight now. The sky was turning blue now, covering up the blood and the ground fell to normal hues of brown and dust again.
It washed away everything until the world was a blank slate.
Another day, another try, and that is all Hubble knew he could do. He confronted his past every morning for as long as he could, fighting with it in hopes that today it would let him go, then he ran from it, leaving it perched on high rocks like a vulture.
He ran down and away from those perches, no longer the eagle, but the rabbit.
But there was nothing wrong with being a rabbit sometimes, not when the rabbit knew well how to keep itself safe.
Hubble slowed his pace, maybe stumbling a bit as he had never been the best at the most graceful of stops after reaching his top speed. He bent over, hands on his knees as he his systems hissed, blowing out steam and heat, sucking in air to quickly cool down his systems in preparation for the next move. His ear flaps flicked outwards and upwards as he gave a whole body shake, stretching some with a hum.
“Have a good run?”
Hubble glanced up to where Civic was loading bags of concrete. He felt his head twitch, focusing on the limp, the way there were slight twitches in the engineer’s head that showed there was more pain than he was letting on.
“Yeah, it was good,” Hubble said, straightening up, “Need some help with that?”
“Nah, I’m fine kid,”
“You sure? There isn’t a rush to get this all done is there? I mean, the new crew isn’t even in,” Hubble fidgeted some as he moved to slide his headphones back into place over his ear flaps.
It was rare they got anyone wanting to transfer out here, but they apparently had a rocket engineer and a bunch of speakers being shipped out which he was fine with. Maybe they could help take the burden off of people and they could all get some better footing.
Civic paused in his work, taking the time to lean against the truck and clearly favoring his good leg, “Dere isn’t a rush. I jest like to keep busy is alls. Easy to feel kind of useless aht here ,”
“I don’t think your useless if you want to sit out a day. Not like the supervisor would care,”
“He wouldn’t care. Perk of being da one who fixes his TV whenever it shorts aht ,” Civic snorted, “Rilly dere is some irony in a TV watching a TV, but I don’t got da brains to make sumpin aht of that,”
Hubble gave a quiet laugh and dip of his head, “Yeah,” his head twitched, picking up the small movement of Prattle and Tattle walking along on their security patrol for the morning. It was hard not to notice Prattle fussing, smacking at Tattle as the taller of the two kept trying to fuss with the side of his head that was noticeably off kilter.
“Stop touching it Tattle! Medic said to leave it alone until she can take a closer look at it later!” Prattle huffed.
“It just…feels funny!” Tattle protested, “After those guards-“
“Not the first time we’ve been knocked about and probably not the last,” Prattle’s voice wasn’t as boisterous, a noted flatness under that false cheer, “We got the message loud and clear. We stay put and no more trouble,”
Tattle gave a small nod, “I didn’t know we made the chief engineer that mad,”
“I don’t know if it was him that ordered that, Tattle,” Prattle said quietly, “But, ugh! Just stop talking about it! Focus on the patrol!”
“Right, right, uh sorry,” Tattle murmured, raising his hand again to tug only for Prattle to let out a loud groan and swat at his hand.
Hubble watched them go, a bit surprised really that Medic wasn’t out running to fix up Tattle. It had him fidgeting all over again, glancing over to where Civic had taken a seat, stretching out his bad leg and rubbing along the brace, “Where’s Medic?”
“Holed up in her office, “Civic grunted, “Think she got some sucko news,”
“Oh,”
Bad news in the war wasn’t new. Sometimes it felt like bad news was all they got sometimes.
“She’ll be aht soon. Think she is jest keeping herself busy wit re-organizing reports before she gits aht to deal wit everyone,” Civic gave a small chuckle, “Wir a hanful to deal wit after alls ,”
“We are,” Hubble agreed, head tilting, tracking the twins as they rushed over, “I hope we can become less of one soon,”
There was a shuffling around the truck as a pair of speakers emerged, regarding the two of them curiously before bounding out. The twins were always a ball of energy, curious to know what was going on and starting up their usual humming of the “Morning Mood” which had Hubble chuckling a bit as he raised up both hands to sign a greeting to the twins who returned the gesture by merely buzzing happily with trills of music as the two speakers always did. They had been rather excited since they got news of more speakers coming. No doubt excited to see if they would be fun to play around with or not.
Or if they would end up causing more accidents to people.
Hubble sighed, shaking his head as he watched the twins run past, clearly off to the communication station to start their shift. He knew he should probably follow them. It was better not to tempt fate with the supervisor. Just because he couldn’t see the looming TV didn’t mean he wasn’t around. Paralipsis could be rather stealthy for a large TV unit, very quiet on his feet as the TV seemed to prefer to walk rather than teleport in.
Hubble shifted to pull the strap of his rifle higher up on his shoulder and gave a nod to Civic, “I’ll see you about, and if you need any help-“
“I’ll ask fer it kid. Don’t yinz worry,” Civic said with a chuckle, “TThink I’m gowen to go in and see if Biggs has made da coffee yet. Think I need to git a mug to hold arahnd a bit,”
“You should use that new mug Prattle and Tattle got you. The one that says “Let’s Keep the Dumbfuckery to a Minimum Today’” Hubble said with a quick thumbs up, “I think they could use the little lift of a spirit,”
Civic gave a hum, “Good point. woll , good luck on da coms today. May it not be too sucko,”
“It never is!” Hubble said with a duck of his head before he scurried through the garage, making his way towards the communications room.
He had hoped to get there without incident, as silent as a creeping mouse through the base. Everyone was getting to their posts and Hubble had really just wanted to get to his without triggering the ire of the supervisor for once, but as he passed through the common room, he was suddenly yanked back and up into the air. Hubble couldn’t hold back a yelp, legs kicking out as he dangled and the strap of his sniper riffle dug in painfully about his neck. Given his feet were off the floor and the grip on the rifle tightening cruelly to intentionally strangle him, there was no doubt who had caught him.
The soft glow of a large TV screen fixated on him as Paralipsis inspected him with all the muted curiosity of having found some unwanted pest crossing their path, “Ah, what is this about hm? Taking a sniper rifle out for some shooting?”
“Uh! Trying to ngh! Practice,” Hubble managed out as he grasped at the strap about his neck and tugged on it to take the pressure off his neck struts, “So I can get better with it again,”
“That’s a waste of bullets. Especially the rounds used for a rifle,” Paralipsis’ grip tightened and for a horrified moment Hubble thought he was going to actually decapitate him.
And unlike TVs, that was a lot more fatal for a camera.
However, the grip relinquished, dropping Hubble to the ground in a heap. The cameraman was quick to scurry back, grasping at his neck as he looked up at the large TV looming over him.
“Check that weapon back into the locker and don’t fucking touch any of the weapons unless you actually can use them,” Paralipsis sneered, “Got it?”
“G-g-got it sir,” Hubble squeaked out, scrambling to his feet.
“And Hubble, the reports were shit yesterday. If I have to read something like that again, I’m going to have you used as target practice for the rocket engineer when they get here,” Paralipsis leaned in, his screen growing brighter in a clear sigh of a threat, “Is that understood?”
“Y-yes sir,”
The supervisor leaned back, giving a dismissive hiss of static before turning to stalk off. Hubble could hear his fans thrumming. Paralipsis was in a bad mood enough that he wasn’t in his office trying to rot out his motherboard on soap operas which wasn’t a good sign. That usually meant a call from command or something more personally had happened. Hubble rubbed his neck, giving a glance down the hallway towards Medic’s office and then back the way Paralipsis went, wondering if...they had another fight. The two had not been doing well after Medic had started dating some camera from Outpost 41. Some camera named Carl who was some tech specialist.
Hubble wouldn’t speculate on that or feed into the gossip Prattle and Tattle already spread around. He just let out a sigh and shuffled off to the communication room. The twins were already at their position, surfing the airwaves while the sound of some classical piece played in the background.
Already Fortissimo had out his sheets of music, working on some new piece while his twin propped feet up on the desk, leaned back and giving a soft hum. Hubble could tell they were lost in their own world and he wasn’t about to intrude. Sometimes it was best to let the twin speakers daydream.
Instead Hubble went to his own desk, setting down the sniper rifle and making a note to take the rifle back later to the gun locker to check it back in. Hopefully before Paralipsis checked to make sure it was back or else it was just going to be a worse time. Hubble sighed, plopping down in his roller chair, stretching his legs out under the desk before he leaned forward to turn on the monitors.
The communication relay rumbled to life and he started the usual calibrations to get it tuned in to the usual Alliance channels. The radio chatter was nothing remarkable, just the usual back and forth between outposts and command. Mostly it was the mines and supply lines talking to each other. Sometimes some word being passed down the pipeline from one HQ to another. It was a boring job, but necessary given that Outpost 51 functioned as a way point for communications, being larger than many of the other outposts in the area.
Although no one would guess by how understaffed they were still.
Hubble let the communications play as he turned his attention to his personal laptop, decorated in all sorts of stickers of space and opened it and pulled it closer. He gave a hum as he opened up the new files he had dug up, eagerly combing through the information and of course, checking the little group he had set up for the “true believers” of phonemen to see if anyone else ever got sightings of them.
Sometimes he got someone posting a picture. Someone claiming some story. Usually it was kind of dead but today, Hubble saw a few more posts and cocked his head, feeling a bit of excitement well up as he leaned forward.
His fans reeved and he felt that antsy feeling again worming its way through his circuits again.
Something to focus on and run to. More of his research that he felt was leading towards something big.
As presented by Hubble with additions added from the Archives of the Phone Faction
LINK TO EVIDENCE ONE: THE FIRST PHONE
( When asked about what is the deal with Phonemen, Hubble will go through his most serious pieces of evidence with his notes! This series of posts will be each major piece of evidence, explanation from Hubble's point of view....then the point of view of the phones as they recall their own history)
EVIDENCE TWO: EVOLUTION OF THE PHONEMEN: THE GREAT WAR
(Picture of First Lieutenant Orion, Private Morris, and Private Rabbit)
Crazy photo right!? Well, those are phonemen....in World War I! This photo is one I found with a few collections of items lost in some archives. Just wait until I explain this one to you!
According to my research, they were able to figure out the process by which to use the "machine star" to create more phonemen. What the process was or how, I’m not sure, but I think it might be a more crude version of what they do today for us, but not entirely sure. The info just isn’t there and hard to come by. All I know is that they took in volunteers, people down on their luck with little to no family that would miss them and began to experiment.
From those experiments, the first phonemen would emerge and with World War I having just broken out, the American government began to train these new phonemen for war as it was believed that they would be able to make better shock troops since they were far more durable, faster, and stronger than average troops.
The 54th Special Units Platoon "The Graham Bells of the Ball", led by First Lieutenant Orion, was the secret unit of phonemen that was deployed to World War I after the US entered the war. They were kept separate from the main troops and led strikes against trenches with a high degree of success.
Seems like those in the know who knew about the "metal monsters" were pleased with the performance, but... apparently there was trouble. I found a recorded conversation, although it took a while to listen to since uh...I don't have a phonograph. Fortissimo and Pianissimo helped me to get it to a format for easy listening and it is just incredible and proves that the phonemen were real! It isn't just some soldiers, it is phones!
BEGIN RECORDING “EVIDENCE ONE OF FIRST DEGREE MURDER FOR WANTED FUGITIVE FIRST LIEUTENANT ORION”
-------
DOCTOR [REDACTED]: This is Doctor [REDACTED] and this recording is for posterity reasons, to get first hand testimony of the performance of the shock troops designated as "phonemen". This is the testimony of Major General [REDACTED] having observed phonemen performance in the battle of -
[Recording becomes garbled for several minutes]
Major General, what have you observed about our first lieutenant and his men?
MAJOR GENERAL: I don't know what these things are, damn unnatural with their heads being phones like that. Couldn't make them look human or something? Creepy, but damn good in the field. They were able to make incredible gains and were efficient, not even slowed down once.
FIRST LIEUTENANT ORION: I would like to note that my platoon suffered no causalities. We still remain at forty-five strong. Although I will admit I went against orders to ensure the survival of my men against the reckless orders put forth.
DOCTOR: Noted. Major General, if you would please continue.
MAJOR GENERAL: Right... anyways, we were able to make gains in the war and send the Germans fleeing in several heavily fortified trenches and push back. If we had more platoons, more of these...things, it would spare a lot of lives lost.
FIRST LIEUTENANT ORION: We are just happy we could face the firestorm and spare others a gruesome death.
MAJOR GENERAL: Ugh, doctor, where does the voice even come from? Sounds so creepy.
DOCTOR: The phone produces the voice, just like making a call. It is easier to communicate with us that way, otherwise they use a complicated Morse code-
MAJOR GENERAL: Whatever. They take orders well enough at least.
FIRST LIEUTENANT ORION: Permission to pose a question to the major general and good doctor?
<<A pause of silence>>
MAJOR GENERAL: Go ahead.
FIRST LIEUTENANT ORION: What happens to us now? We have served faithfully in this war right up to the date victory was declared, but no one has explained what happens next.
DOCTOR: You’ll be returned to the United States and with your experience in the war, we are hoping to have you train the next generation for future conflicts, should they occur.
FIRST LIEUTENANT ORION: ...and will we be allowed to be seen?
<< A long pause of silence before the doctor clears his throat>>
DOCTOR: Could you clarify?
FIRST LIEUTENANT ORION: Will we be able to be seen or are we to be kept hidden away? We served in this war, saved lives, helped to achieve victory, but there has been no rewards, no mention of allowing us the dignity of life as normal men-
MAJOR GENERAL: You aren’t men. You are walking hardware with a phone for a head. Like hell we are going to introduce you to the public. You want mass hysteria!?
DOCTOR: What the general means is that it is impossible for you to be in the general public as it would raise questions and-
FIRST LIEUTENANT ORION: And you would have to admit what you did to make us, isn’t that right? That you turned men into monsters for the war, and how many you had to murder to get there.
MAJOR GENERAL: First Lieutenant, if you want to keep running your mouth...phone...whatever the fuck you talk through, I’ll have you in the dumpster. You are replaceable, you know that?
<<There is a long pause of silence before a sigh from First Lieutenant Orion>>
FIRST LIEUTENANT ORION: I guess he was right when he said you really were just going to make us into slaves for whatever you needed.
DOCTOR: He? Who are you referring to.
FIRST LIEUTENANT ORION: Doesn’t matter. I’m taking my men and leaving. We aren’t about to live as your walking weapons. We are human and deserve the same dignity we had before you turned us into this.
DOCTOR: First Lieutenant-
MAJOR GENERAL: You aren’t going anywhere, phone. If you desert, I’ll have you all hunted down and I’ll see you before a firing squad. Got it? You’ll be up for treason at the highest level!
FIRST LIEUTENANT ORION: I didn’t remember asking for your permission, sir.
MAJOR GENERAL: First Lieutenant, what are you-
<<The sound of two shots going off is heard and the thud of something hitting the floor>>
FIRST LIEUTENANT ORION: I’m not going to be something to be used, nor are my men, that’s what Major General. All you had to do was let us go, but I guess even that basic decency is beyond you.
<< The sound of someone leaving is heard. The recording turns to static but catches the last words>>
And you call me the monster, sir…
---------------------
Kind of grisly and alarming really. This Orion guy though is someone important to remember though, as he shows up in other pieces of my evidence later too. At this point though, Orion and his platoon vanished off the battlefield and were declared AWOL and to kill on sight. Where they went is a mystery, but it wasn’t the end of the phonemen project.
Just look at this chilling transcript I found in buried in a book about Government experiments at base. It is super crumbled and smudged, like someone shoved it in quickly to hide it, but forgot about it. This transcript is entitled “Phonemen Generation Two Proposal.”
-------------------------------------
“PHONEMEN GENERATION TWO PROPOSAL”
To Parties Concerned:
This report outlines the failures, and triumphs, of the phonemen project in World War I. There is no doubt that using mechanical units like the phonemen bolsters the fighting ability of the military and creates beings able to move faster, sustain more damage, and take on more aggressive targets and survive, however, they do have a problem with how they are perceived.
As you know, the platoon deserted and despite best efforts of special agents across the world, the managed to vanish into the night. We believe they have someone helping them avoid capture, either some human group, or potentially another fugitive. We have reason to believe Morse might be involved, but haven’t confirmed or denied this. What is clear is that these phonemen still see themselves more as human and expect to be treated as equals to humans. However, we believe that there is a simple solution to this problem: the use of children in the project.
As we know, using the machine star, we can transfer minds into mechanical bodies. A young child’s mind has not fully grasped their own humanity nor expectations of how they should be treated. We use minds that can be more easily shaped, trained, and adapted to what we need in the next generation of phonemen. True, it will take longer to develop them, but in fifteen years, we will have a far more loyal, far better trained group of phonemen, more suited to what we need. They won’t have the same expectations and be docile and easy to control.
After all, there are plenty of orphans after the Great War that can be quickly taken in for this next stage. This is an opportunity we must further explore. The new generation will not be mistreated in their new forms, simply taught that they are not human, but phonemen. That they must be obedient, that they must serve the greater good of humanity, and that they must stay hidden. Growing up with his ingrained will no doubt replace the more willful nature of those made of adult minds. Please consider this avenue for the project going forward.
It is really messed up to think about children being turned into phonemen units like that. I want to hope they didn’t go through with it, but it is impossible to really know if they did or not. They did make new phonemen, but if it was a cruel situation of children being raised for war or still using adult minds, it is hard to know.
However, that isn’t where the story ends. Just wait for my next evidence! Hubble out!
From the Historical Archives of the Directorate of Telecoms
NEBULA of the Memories of First Titan Orion, part of Early Titan AI training for understanding of purpose
The following are the memories of Orion who would become the First Titan, Titan V.1, the great savior of our people, the arms and body of phonekind, the protector, and who’s words would become the central creed for all Titans to follow. His memories have been preserved for you, Titan V.168, to understand your purpose and to learn from his heroics and take them with you. These memories are yours, the collective memories of all that came before you. Embrace your role. Follow the creed. Be the enforcer of the will of the directorate conclave, the protector of the peace our supreme leader has created.
You are the shield, the sword, and the very body of our people. You protect the heart, the spirit, and the mind.
---------------------
MORRIS: You did what!?
ORION: I shot them.
RABBIT: Oh god….
MORRIS: Are you out of your mind Orion?! Why would you shoot them? What is going on in that damned hooked head phone head of yours!?
ORION: they were going to put us in a damn camp and force us to train others. I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to live to be some sort of slave.
MORRIS: No, now they are going to fucking kill you.
ORION: Better than living in a cell all our lives. Morse was right. About everything.
<<There is a long pause of silence before Morris sighs>>
MORRIS: So now what Orion?
ORION: Any who want to stay are welcomed to, but for those that want to leave, to live free, then we leave tonight and head out along the river, cross over into the Rhineland, and keep to the countryside. We make contact with Morse again and coordinate from there.
MORRIS: And then?
ORION: Then we get the truth out there and figure out what their next move and plan to do what Morse has suggested from the start.
RABBIT: You mean...the machine star?
ORION: It is what made us and Morse believes it can do a lot more, but we need to figure out a way to take it for ourselves.
MORRIS: You’re crazy, but fuck if I’m not crazy too for always following you no matter what hell scheme you got.
ORION: <Chuckles lightly> have I ever led any of you astray?
RABBIT: You’ve kept us alive when they wanted to sacrifice us. You defied orders to keep us safe. << A long pause > I’m with you Orion.
MORRIS: Me too, and pretty sure all the boys are at your back...but making forty-five of us vanish? That is going to be a tall order.
ORION: Morse vanished.
MORRIS: He’s one guy.
ORION: Then we adapt how he did it and we vanish. We meet up with Morse and from there, we find either a way in which we can co-exist with humanity…
MORRIS: Or?
ORION: Or we find a place far away from here where we can build a world that will accept us, away from wars, away from everything. Where we can live how we want.
RABBIT: Oh god...we better move now. They will find the bodies soon.
ORION: Don’t worry Rabbit, I’ll keep you safe. All of you. Just follow my lead and trust in the intel Morse can give us. We will get through this and find our home.
MORRIS: Home. Heh. That sounds nice.
RABBIT: Then awaiting your orders sir.
ORION: Gather the others, take only what we need, and we are going to be gone in the next hour. Right through no-man’s land. With the war over, no one is going to shoot and there are some vehicles on the other side we can hot wire. Let’s move out, and keep behind me.
Once upon a time Apfel, it is hard to believe, but I was a child. Born on earth even, crazy isn’t it? I think I was born in a village somewhere in Britain. I don’t remember much about all that. Those memories are foggy, even in the NEBULA. I remember it being a nice place, green, and the smell of apple pie. Think it was my grandma that baked.
I just remembered her getting the news of my father dying and her growing ill. Then the men came and said I was being adopted by some uncle I never heard of in America.
Was I human? Maybe in name at one point, but all I remembered was being raised to see myself as anything but human….
-------------------------------------------
RESEARCHER: Samson? Can you hear me?
SAMSON: Yeah.
RESEARCHER: Good, good. Any pain? Anything feel bad?
SAMSON: No, not really. I feel kind of heavy.
RESEARCHER: Good good. Can you give me your name, age, and hm, how about your favorite color?
SAMSON: I’m Samson Bowen, I’m five years old and uh, I like the color blue, like the ocean!
RESEARCHER: Good. Now can you please stand up.
SAMSON: Uh huh! Oh...hehe...I’m super tall now! Am I an adult now or something?
RESEARCHER: Not yet! Got to make sure you go to school and get all the knowledge you need first Samson.
SAMSON: Boo…is it at least interesting things? I don’t like boring stuff…
RESEARCHER: It will be interesting things and you’ll have lots of friends too. Are you ready to see yourself?
SAMSON: I guess.
<<A Mirror is introduced then and Samson jumps, a hand rising up to touch at the phone model for his head, tensing up>>
SAMSON: ...where is my head?
RESEARCHER: That is your new head.
SAMSON: I see a phone though. Phones aren’t heads!
RESEARCHER: Your head is one because you aren’t a human. You are a phoneman.
SAMSON: But-
RESEARCHER: Those memories of being human were just a dream. You’ve been in a deep sleep to learn about human things and to develop a love for humanity. You loved your mother, father, and grandmother right? Those humans?
SAMSON: Y-yeah. I do. I love them very much.
RESEARCHER: You want to keep them safe and other humans right?
SAMSON: I-I Guess? But...but ...I ...why do I look like this?
RESEARCHER: Because you are a phoneman.
SAMSON: This isn’t what I look like thought. I-
RESEARCHER: Come along. Let’s meet your new friends who are like you. They are all phonemen too. Even some older ones who can explain all this to you. It is always hard to wake up from a dream to see what you really are. I’m just glad you are being a very big brave boy right now Samson and not getting scared.
SAMSON: I am scared though….
RESEARCHER: But you are being brave about it. That deserves a nice toy! You like toys right?
SAMSON: ...yeah…
RESEARCHER: Here, I think you will like this one for comfort.
<< A stuffed dog is introduced. Samson accepts it, holding it close for comfort, trembling some>>
RESEARCHER: This is Watson and he will be your friend. You can hold onto him whenever you feel scared or unsure, okay?
SAMSON: Okay…
RESEARCHER: You ready to meet your new friends?
SAMSON: Yeah…
<<Samson makes a garbled sound of what could be distress as he lurches after the researcher, letting her lead him by the hand, the other arm wrapped about the stuffed dog. A strange sight of a six foot phonemen with the voice and mentality of a five year old child>>
-----------------------------------
Hmm? Oh, yes, it was strange. Heh. I felt like I was trapped in the wrong body for a while, that I had grown up too fast, but it was nice to have the others to talk about it. My friends. My family. We looked out for each other and all that.
Your donator? Heh. He wasn’t in the picture yet. He doesn’t show up for a good long while Apfel. Hmm? My favorite color? Oh, I think it hasn’t changed that much. I still like blues and teals, like the ocean. I’ve always had a love of the ocean. Maybe when we are doing our mission on Earth I’ll take you down so you can see a real one eh? Yes, yes, we can bring Laika. I think she would like to see it too.
Watson? Oh, I still have him but he’s super worn and dirty. You want to see him? Heh, then let’s go dig through my old stuff and see if we can’t find him. He can go with you on adventures like he did with me. He’s a very dependable friend!
As presented by Hubble with additions added from the Archives of the Phone Faction
( When asked about what is the deal with Phonemen, Hubble will go through his most serious pieces of evidence with his notes! This series of posts will be each major piece of evidence, explanation from Hubble's point of view....then the point of view of the phones as they recall their own history)
EVIDENCE ONE: THE FIRST PHONE
By Hubble
(TW for body horror in picture attached to evidence!)
Would it surprise you if I told you that the phonemen weren't not born in space but originally came from Earth? Not only that, but they first appeared in the mid-1800s?
Origins of Phonemen
In 1856, a freak incident occurred in a small city in the North-east. Which city is unknown, mostly as the records from this time that could be recovered and substantiated are badly damaged and much of those details are lost in these early records. What is known is that a factory that specialized in producing telegrams was struck by an object that apparently came from space, setting the factory on fire. All the workers within were reported dead and their bodies mutilated beyond all recognition. First respondents reported to the media that the heat of the fire melted the machinery onto the bodies, causing them to be encased in metal in parts or limbs to go completely missing.
The fire was written off as a tragedy, however, that was only the cover story!
Covert government records found in a facility in my research, a report called “The Machine Men Incident” contradicts this story. I haven’t found other copies of this report and the one I have is pretty badly damaged, but I know for a fact it has to be true! I found the file wedged in some backroom while going through some exploded government buildings during the war. Really I couldn’t believe my lens what I was reading as I feel this is HUGE proof that the phonemen were real AND they originated on earth.
It turns out that bodies found weren’t covered in hot metal. In fact, the fire in the factory was put out rather quick and wasn’t the inferno the media made it out to be. The truth is the bodies found were fused to the metal components of the factory, often in grotesque and horrific ways. Limbs stretched out into poles, heads half replaced with metal slag, the list goes on and the descriptions were gruesome. Autopsies performed show that organs had been replaced. That though, wasn’t the only thing they found.
They found survivors.
In a back room, a group of fifteen workers had managed to escape the worse of the fire and managed to survive whatever had swept through the factory, fusing machine and man together. All fifteen survivors though were forever changed. Their heads were replaced with telegraphs and their bodies were in various stages of mutation, some with entire limbs missing or replace while others were able to maintain a few limbs. None of the survivors could see, the transformation rendering them blind, and their only method of communication was through Morse code produced by the telegraph of their head.
As you can imagine, this was a horrific discovery and the government moved in quickly to secure both the dead bodies and the survivors, securing them away in a government facility in the Midwest of the United States. The name of the facility was called Operation Innovation and would be the primary place for study of what was now dubbed “The Machinemen.”
The survivors weren’t the only thing recovered though! In the report, there is reference to the actual object that hit the factory being recovered. It wasn’t an asteroid and was described as looking like a metal star radiating a bright light and seemed to interact oddly with non-organic matter, but also produced an incredible amount of energy. They refer to this as the “Machine Star” and it was the focus of study as it seems they believed something about it helped to fuse man and machine together for a point of survival and to “save” those around it from the fire and impact. They didn’t have the tools to do much with it, thus kept it under lock and key in an underground facility. The main focus of their research was on the survivors and the dead bodies which were experimented on.
It is kind of sad to read. They don’t…talk about the survivors like they were human anymore. It was like the moment they got fused with the telegraphs, it was really easy for them to be seen as less than human. It makes me wonder if that is how some humans see us? Especially as the experiments, from what little I could salvage of the report, were not good and painful. By the end, seemed only one of them survived, Machineman #10.
The only picture that survived on this report was one of Machineman #10 and it is kind of hard to look at. Most units who were once human have metal bodies. What Machineman #10 was, well…looks like something out of a horror story. I feel bad for him. It must have been so scary.
Machine Man #10 was originally a twenty year old worker at the factory, although it seems names were removed from the report. He was kept alive as he was the most “complete” in terms of form and also seen as the most viable fusion to observe for how long he would actually live.
What became of him, I’m not sure. By now, he’s probably long dead. I just hope he had a peaceful end. The rest of the report I have is more or less missing so, uh, I can’t really confirm the fate of the machinemen, only that they changed the name to “Proto-phone” as they seemed about to pivot towards a “phonemen” project.
This supports my conclusion that the phonemen WERE native to Earth and that whatever process made them would be copied eventually with the use of this “Machine Star”, whatever it is. I think that this “Machine Star” might be a primitive energy source, similar to a titan core, although with different properties. Whatever it is, it might not only be what began the creation of the phonemen, but might also be the progenitor of all of us in a way! Which also means the phonemen are a faction that are kindred to us and maybe if we can find them, can learn more about our own origins, join forces to fight the skibidi, and learn so much from their experiences!
Creating the titan cores was second nature to every faction, almost like we already knew how to do it, so who is to say that a “machine star” is just a way of talking about the heart of the greatest members of our factions?
------------------------------------
From the Historical Archives of the Directorate of Telecoms
NEBULA of the Memories of Supreme Director Morse and the First Voice of Phonekind
This recording is a direct memory of the Supreme Director Morse of his time on Earth, shared with young phone prototypes to understand their history and origins. These words can be distressing, so please, read with a trusted guide or parental unit and ask for their help.
A written version of the transcript is provided for those young phones that are more eager readers of our history.
Read and understand the struggles of our First Voice, who guided us and still guides us in the peace we have found and the society we have built for telecom kind.
Our Leader once was known by a cruel designation of Machineman #10. He was once a human named Connor Bryn. To us he is Morse, the name he chose when he became the leader of phonekind and with the first titan, led us into the stars to seek our people.
Listen carefully young prototypes, and watch it unfold the story of our ancestors and our escape from the slavery of humanity.
______
<< The sounds of panicked Morse code can be heard in the background, loud and shrill. These are the sounds of the other “Machine Men” our ancestors, being tortured by humanity to further their own technology, regardless of harm to their own. >>
MORSE: Oh god. Oh god almighty-!
MACHINE MAN #14: Easy there lad.
MORSE: They are going to kill us. Every one of us. Oh God…!
MACHINE MAN #14: They won’t. Killing all of us won’t give them the research they need. They had the dead bodies of the others to pick through and see what is going on inside. The living ones of us, well, we are better alive so they can keep picking at us.
MORSE: You mean torture us. Fuck man, why are they doing this!? We are human too! We didn’t ask for...for all this to happen!
MACHINE MAN #14: We aren’t human to them. Not anymore.
MORSE: But we are! My name is Connor Bryn and I have a family! A mother, a father, siblings. Fuck...fuck….!
MACHINE MAN #14: Calm down lad, ain’t no reason to get all outta sorts-
MORSE: They said they would help us and make...make all this go away. I can’t see anymore. All I do is hear. Hear the screams of the others, hear their fucking questions, as if I know how the fuck this happened!
<<A shift, the feel of touch, the attempt at a companion-like hug, although Machine Man #14 has only arms down to the elbow, the rest only twisted metal>>
MACHINE MAN ##14: Easy now, lad. Easy.
MORSE: I just want to go back to my family. I just want to be normal again.
MACHINE MAN #14: So do I. Not a day go by where I’m not thinking about my Sally and the kids. Worrying about who is going to provide for them now. Praying to God the family helps and this damn government gave them some compensation….but even if I wasn’t here, I doubt she would want me back.
<A quiet laugh from Machine Man #14>
We look like monsters now. Goddamn monsters. Telegraphs for heads, all fused up like a freak show with metal.
MORSE: Why did this happen to us? We did nothing wrong. We were just working, trying to make a living. Put food on the table. Take care of those we loved. We were all good God-fearing people…
MACHINE MAN #14: Fate sometimes doesn’t care a thing for prayers kid.
<<The frantic beeping is growing louder in the background and Morse makes a distressed sound, a choked sound>>
MORSE: Oh God…
MACHINE MAN #14: They won’t kill all of us.
MORSE: But they only need one of us to survive.
MACHINE MAN #14: Then whoever survives lad is the one that needs to get out of this place and let the world know what happened here. Monsters or not, we are human too. Still got our thoughts, our feelings, our memories. No...everyone needs to know. So others like us won’t happen.
MORSE: How will we get out?
MACHINE MAN #14: I don’t know but...I’ve been listening more.
MORSE: Listening?
MACHINE MAN #14: Yeah. Not to the scientists or guards or those folks. Just..listening. You listen close enough you’ll hear it. Like a hum.
MORSE:… I’ve heard that.
MACHINE MAN #14: Feels like something is there we can touch that they don’t know about. If we could get to that, maybe we can find someone out there that will save us.
MORSE: Maybe… I hope so. I don’t want to die, not on the slab of some fucking table, screaming.
MACHINE MAN #14: Whoever lives, lives for the rest of us and doesn’t let a single death be in vain. Take the rest of us with them on their way out.
MORSE: … someone said they are bringing in people. Poor folk or something to...try and make more of us. Use some other object though.
MACHINE MAN #14: Of course they would. They found we are damn well more sturdy than normal. The government smells a profit or a tool to use.
MORSE: More people are going to suffer like us.
MACHINE MAN #14: All the more reason to find a way out. To stop this.
MORSE: … I’ll get out if it is the last thing I do. I’ll fight for freedom kicking and screaming, cursing God himself it I have to.
MACHINE MAN #14: Heh, that’s the spirit lad.
MORSE: Someone is coming.
MACHINE MAN #14: Then time to hold our silence, play dumb, but keep our ears open and keep listening, keep reaching. Don’t let them know a word.
MORSE: Right….. Mack?
MACHINE MAN #14: Yeah lad?
MORSE: Thank you.
MACHINE MAN #14: We take care of our own now lad. Whatever we are now, we are in this together and the only family we have left. Don’t forget that.
FINALIZED CONCEPT FOR HUBBLE! MY DARLING CHICKEN SON! <3
NAME: Cameraman 621; Hubble
NICKNAMES: Chicken Bot, Ostrich, Phone Enthusiast, 360 No Scope, Fumble Shot, Dorknugget, Spaced for Chips, Hubbs, Flappy Bot (...he doesn't get a lot of flattering nicknames...)
ALLIANCE CLASS: Cameraman; Special Sniper Class (Discontinued)
WORK CLASS: Combat Sniper Class; Experimental Build into Non-human anatomy for units
GENDER: He/him
CLASSIFICATION: AI Created Mind; Specialized Build for Combat
RANK: Communication Officer; The Phoneman Expert
Cameraman 621, known by the name Hubble, was part of an experimental unit build in the early part of the war and he and his siblings were created to be the ultimate snipers. Light framed, flexible, designed to reach incredible speeds to move in and out of combat, Hubble only knew how to fight and take shots with unnerving accuracy.
However, he befriended another Cameraman named Razor and started to see more to life than just the end of his rifle...and then a horrific tragedy happened and Hubble's mind broke. He latched onto an obsession with the phonemen to avoid talking about what happened and his own inability to follow his only calling in life. Sent to Outpost 51, he tries his best to just keep out of everyone's way, friendly to everyone and eager to please...and always excited to explain his phonemen obsession.
But...are his theories as crazy as everyone thinks?
MORE LORE UNDER THE CUT <3
Hubble is the fastest at Outpost 51, clocking in at a flat sustained speed of 80 KHM and can go faster when engaging the rockets on his legs. The build of his legs allows him a wider stride and more spring to them, helping him to move.
He doesn't cover the leg rockets which can activate forward or backwards, depending on which direction he wants to go in. He doesn't want to set his pants on fire ....
Hubble is born to move and cannot sit still. It is ironic he got a desk job when he got a hardwired program to be on the move. To this extent, he goes running in the mornings and evenings, and tends to pace about the office a lot while working or using stim toys.
He has incredible vision, able to hit targets from great distances. This is why his sniper rifle has no scope. He is the scope. However, he sometimes forgets to zoom out and has trouble seeing things up close...
Hubble prefers to perch as it is more comfortable than sitting, but gets made fun of being "a chicken" when he does
Hubble is EXTREMELY SELF CONSCIOUS about his ear flaps. So much so he started to try and rubber band them down as they are very expressive and like to pop up and wiggle. The Twins made him some weighted headphones that keeps them pinned.
The flaps DO have a purpose other than projecting his emotions. They help to stabilize and steer when he is going at higher speeds so when he IS in need of them, he will take off the headphones.
Hubble was an AI-mind made for his purpose...and not having that purpose has put him in a strange limbo where he isn't sure what he is or what to do. Thus he people pleases and does what anyone else tells him to do with little questioning...
Hubble got his space and dinosaur obsessions from the stories Razor would tell him during down time. He latched on tight to those stories and took them to obsession...mostly to cope.
Hubble is very friendly and outgoing, will answer questions, and usually he just spirals into rants to avoid continuing a conversation he doesn't like.
Hubble likes to parkour and always jumping about things. He has a bunk bed just so he can jump up into it for recharge.
He prefers to use the window rather than the door because it is more fun.
When Hubble is scared he will run and look for high ground to set up in. Prattle and Tattle jokingly say he's "sniper nesting".
When standing, he usually moves to balance on one leg or stretch out a lot as he can't stand still well.
His head doesn't move when he runs. There are mechanisms that lock the neck into place to help keep him steady to take shots and keep his eyes focused on his next jumps. His head also can do a 360 turn, allowing for greater range of vision.
Hubble used to have an accuracy rating of 99% when it came to his shots. After the tragedy, he can't hit any moving target or living target. Stationary non-living targets like a can though are still able to be hit.
Hubble is very confident he will one day get his sniping skills back. Just a setback and he'll get there! He practices everyday to try and get back up to snuff.... just has to stop thinking about...things.
A very optimistic soul and always believes the best is going to happen and looks for the good and positive in everything. He is known to motivate and improve the moods of his fellows...except for the Meanie TV.
Paralipsis has an absolute HUGE disdain for Hubble and goes out of his way to torment the chicken bot in particular. If Paralipsis is in a bad mood, Hubble is the prime target....and Hubble just tries to appease him and doesn't get why he gets targeted. Out of everyone at Outpost 51, it is very clear Paralipsis is out to grind Hubble down...and Hubble just takes it and tries to laugh it off and be positive about it, which makes things worse (Paralipsis can't stand how optimistic he is and how stupid happy he is....)
Looks up to the Titan Cameraman as his idol and role-model and has posters and figures in his room. Everyday he tells himself he has to be brave and strong like the Titan and then he'll get his shot back! Prattle and Tattle got him a poster signed by the Titan.
He has heely shoes and is very skilled at using them and at skating in general. Just helps him to zoomie more around the Outpost.
Hubble can hyperfixate on things. The phonemen are his hyperfixation to the point he has probably gotten into things he shouldn't to collect all the data he can and build his conspiracy theory. Despite this, he isn't paranoid about the government or anything. Phonemen are just nifty and one day he will make contact and get them to come to Earth to help the Alliance!
The twins and Hubble are very close friends and he is the only person that knows anything really about the twins.
He can't say no to people and so gets wrapped up in their mischief. Medic has to usually step in and shoo people away and stand up to him against Paralipsis.
For all his happy outward appearance, Hubble lives with an incredible amount of guilt... due to the fact he killed Razor. It was in the middle of a battle and he had to take a shot to take a toilet with Razor danger close, had to be accurate....and he missed. And fatally shot the one person who had always looked out for him. The incident broke Hubble and he froze up, unable to leave, in complete shock, completely unresponsive. A fatally wounded Razor used the last of his life to get Hubble to safety.
Hubble sat there with the body of his friend and mentor, that he had killed until medic units found him. He was still unresponsive and it would take weeks before he would talk. In that time, he refused to take off Razor's coat, wearing it for some macabre comfort.
Hubble still wears that same coat as it is the only thing left of Razor now. When he is very stressed or thinking about that horrific moment, he plays with the hole in the jacket that was where the fateful bullet entered.
In his own mind, Hubble sees himself as a murderer, even if he was forgiven. Even if the court found it a case of friendly fire that was unfortunate. Even if the Alliance and everyone else tells him it wasn't his fault. People miss shots. Now all Hubble does is miss shots.
He talks about Razor and his advice a lot, but seems unable to really take that same advice to heart. Knows he is a disappointment, but can't seem to get started to not be one... Hubble just slaps his usual optimism of if he just works harder, it will fix itself!
Talking about the phonemen is a means of coping with all those feelings to the point he is convinced that the phonemen will "fix" everything that's wrong.
Cammie's a therapist and is absolutely calm and sweet. But when out of her therapy sessions, she's lively.
They don't know much on how to ramble since all they do is take care of patients and clients. So they decided to try this out.
She probably has no idea that it's supposed to be a date and thought it would be "make a friend outside of work" meetup.
They would gladly listen to your problems and willing to give out advice rather than the other way around hahaha-
Don't fool her kindness as a weakness, she's emotionally perceptive.
You can pick any character of yours :]
- from @lens-guy-art (sorry if I rambled too much or if it does not make any sense ^^;)
Cammie has such a fun and classy design! And I always love therapist characters, ones who are helping others with their issues ; w ; And hopefully she can make lots of friends outside of work as she seems like she deserves it with all the clients she handles!
If Cammie likes to listen, then guess she can listen to the resident true believer alien phoneman enthusiast talk about his research c:
Hubble just likes to take people out stargazing so he can talk about space, phonemen, and more space.... but Cammie probably can tell he does it to cover up not talking about the real issues at hand...
Felt inspired to write a little transcript style one shot or two <3 The first one up is Hubble as want to give more love to the little space guy!
TITLE: Seventy-Five Percent Hit Ratio
FEATURING: Hubble
<< Unit Review for Service: Designation Hubble: Elite Snipper Unit>>
Evaluator listed as E.
Evaluatee listed as H (Designation of Unit: Hubble: Cameraman 621)
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E: The scores are in Hubble, but I'm sure you are already aware of the results.
<Hubble remains silent in the room, camera fixed on the desk in front of him>
E: Elite Snipers need a hit ratio of 75% at the least on targets, and even then, that is tenuous at best that you even get in. You can't afford to miss shots.
H: ....what was my score?
<<A long pause as the Evaluator lets out a heavy sigh, dropping the report on the desk in font of Hubble>>
E: .001%. You couldn't hit any of the targets. You missed every single shot.
<< Hubble is silent, visibly tensing but says nothing as he stares at the report>>
E: We can't use a sniper who can't make his shots anymore Hubble. I'm sorry, but we are going to have to transfer you to other duties. At the suggestion of medical, probably something away from combat.
<< Hubble is silent for a few more moments before sitting up a bit, shaking just a bit as he speaks with some difficulty to be calm>>
H: Just like that? But... I was built to be a sniper unit. Everything about my design... that is what I am suppose to be. I just...I just need time to get back in the game is all, just-
E: Hubble-
H: I'm still able to be in combat and do my part for the Alliance. I can do this still, I know I can just...it...it is hard. But, I can do it. I'm still a sniper unit and-
E: The transfer is already a done thing. We have evaluated you are unfit for return to combat duty. I'm sorry Hubble, but it isn't about just the shots.
<<Hubble tenses, hands clenched tight over his knees and he continues to shake, but doing his best o maintain composure>>
H: Oh.
E: You are being sent to a nice quiet outpost, far from combat. They are just doing rocket testing and study of space. I think you'll like it given your new...hobby and all. All you got to do is monitor the comm and report in.
H: Okay.
E: ...maybe we can try again another time Hubble. You were good. No one is doubting that. You had one of the highest hit ratios in the damn unit.
H: ....I know.
<<There is a long pause of silence as the evaluator sighs and rises to his feet>>
E: I'm sorry Hubble.
<<Hubble is silent before he rises to his feet, picking up the report, camera fixed on the ground and refusing to look up>>
H: ...Am I dismissed?
E: Yeah. Your relocation is schedueled for tomorrow with the materials heading to the outpost. You'll be reporting to your Supervisor upon arrival for basic training for your post.
H: Okay.
<<Hubble moves to the door, still avoiding looking up and doing everything he can to remain calm and maintain his composure as he reaches for the door handle>>
E: Hubble...no one blames you for what happened. Everyone can miss a shot, even the best. What happened...was a terrible accident.
<<Hubble tenses, hand hovering over the door handle before he appears to shake his head, grasping onto it and opening the door>>
H: Yeah. Just the shot I missed killed the one person I cared for most.
<<Hubble leaves the room, silent, clutching the report to his chest>>
END EVALUATION FOOTAGE
