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blackguardnouveau replied to your post: [Private] We need to talk.
[Private] Now is most convenient, and the convenience level goes down after that point. This is a work matter and not a personal matter.
[Private] Immediately, then.
What is this work matter?
[Private] We need to talk.
Hmm. Of course. Let me know the a convenient time for you.
On a large enough time line, the survival rate for everyone will drop to zero.
Smoking on the job. What job?
Slipping the cigarette out from between his lips, Dante crushed the ashes into pixels against the ground as he moved forward and slid his helmet back into place. He might have felt stupid if he was capable of feeling anything at all--No, that was a disproven theory. He allowed himself to feel betrayed and anger stemmed from that betrayal that cut vast and deep from within. He’d let himself down. He had let everyone down.
By allowing CLU to slip between the cracks, he was just as flawed as his leader had become. Any sort of redemption would have to forced and taken. He was done with words, and he was done with their beacon. Pushing himself off the wall, he went to meet NOV at entrance of the throne room.
sentry-nov replied to your post: *awkward staring*
… I suppose… I’m the same size as usual, though. … *kneels* Is this like when you turned into a rodent?
can i fit in your shir--suit armor?
*awkward staring*
whoa yah hey you're big
there is no end to fire
If cruelty had a face, it would belong to that pitiless stare, veiled behind the mask of gleaming obsidian helm; void of spirit, compassion, the vital of humanity swept clean from each punch of code that made up his entity. The refined edge of his conscious action, edged in a raw need and savage want; each step purposeful, each step impending with a heavy weight. A presence which took the viewer by storm in a gust of draconian countenance, but just as easily disregarded with further inspection. The chilled wind which pesters the spirit, but merely licks the flesh in a faint warning. It was with such character that he stalked from his den at the appointed time. There was a time and a place. It was so, to stir Dante from his secluded existence, with the promise of his comrades.
Some made more progress than others; this was an inevitable truth. But it was not something for him to decide when brought to such manners. As it were, what was true was that CLU lacked in all things promising. Disappointment. Betrayal. An inability to take intiative. Only when pinned down could he be maneuvered into an acceptable position. This was also true for other programs. But it weighed heavily on the man’s mind, it poisoned thoughts he once thought earnest—he did not think, he acted. Action was the path to destiny. But the dog found himself scalded by what he found to be actual truth. And with a turned nose he began to think. To himself.
Everything would go as they planned.
For those who mere existence brought a bitter taste to tongue, there was to be unexpected enlightenment in others. Loyalty. Obedience. Cooperation. Those who did not break, but found their feet to bow. More often than not it was not so much admired to be intelligent with a clear speaking mind, but rather resourceful enough to shut up and fall in line. NOV had risen to the occasion—surprisingly. And with no given explanation, Dante had replaced a previous volunteer with the sentry’s required presence.
He was to meet NOV at the entry of CLU’s apartment. Footsteps ceased to cool silence. Now.
[Now playing: SOS! SOS!]
The store was more for show than anything else. Take a moment to imagine that a video store fucked an Apple store, and you’d get the weird hybrid that was the iTunes Store brought to digital life. It was a sort of warehouse-like room, blinding white and clean looking, with holographic advertisements switching each way between the latest sales, movie releases, and album charts. A hub of media that was more for show than browsing, where parked at the end of the room sat iTunes behind the console, working away with little enthusiasm behind his helmet; tapping away at screen to send this one to support, and the other one the files they were requesting. At least there was always good music blasting to get through the work shift.
Funny enough, it consumed so much of his attention that when something did happen in the store, he was late to realize it. The exception was when one thin long leg came swinging over the desk, joined by another, and his gaze slowly climbed the length of those killer legs to stare at the face that grinned down at him.
“What the… fuck? Clementine?”
She waved down at him with a small giggle, “Hey Tunes!”
The worse thing about crazy people: half of them don’t know how crazy they are. You know that one girl you hook up with and you think it’s mutual but she flips the switch, and the next morning she’s shopping for a wedding dress? It was one of those situations. So there had been some… issues between them. Some stuff he’d thought he’d taken care of the last time she’d shown up at his apartment, threatening to derezz herself if he didn’t let her in.
“How… how the fuck… did you get in here?”
Creeped out didn’t cover it.
The program gave a small shrug of her shoulders, “I have my ways.”
“So the last time I got your ass dragged out of here wasn’t good enough?”
“I saw the way you were looking at me. Before, at the club.”
“What club? You mean… the mili before?”
She nodded.
“I didn’t even see you.”
“I just know sometimes you get shy around girls and I—“
He wasn’t going through this again.
“No no! Fuck you and your crazy ass! Get the fuck out of my store!”
“I’M NOT CRAZY!”
“YES YOU ARE, BITCH! LEAVE!”
He jolted out of his chair, more than prepared to have a screaming match with her. But before he could even stand fully, she lunged, wrapping her smaller figure around his frame as they both when crashing to the floor. He took the brunt of the blow, feeling something shift painfully out of place and stunning him momentarily; that was all she needed. She didn’t even bother to take off his helmet, fervently planting kisses all over the pixels that made out a perfect “D':” emoticon. The only thing he could as try to weakly wiggle out of her grasp, managing to flip over onto his stomach and attempting to crawl away as he sent out a distress signal.
sentry-nov replied to your post: [Program iTunes is online.]
Hello, Tunes. You seem happy. *smiles*
Slllloooooowly being driven crazy by fucking work. Slowfuckingly.
