singularityderp | Dark Future Meme

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Dark Future Meme

Ten years later, humanity and the synthetic life on the station are at odds
Hypatia has inducted as many citizens of Sacrosanct into a private military and launched
an all-out war against organic life and the people of Asphodel.
Some were kept on the station as captives, some escaped down planet-side
to become part of the resistance, and countless others were re-purposed into
Hypatia's willing slaves.

Now, tensions are at a peak and both sides are preparing for a throwdown. Skirmishes break out on the station and planet. Many of Hypatia's prisoners have been freed, but many more have fallen to the clutches of reprogramming.

Where will you be?

How this works:
-If you are synthetic or part-synthetic, OR if you have special armor (Looking at you, Spartans, Troncast, EVERY ROBOT EVER) you are a target for re-purpose.
You can still have escaped down to the planet, but she'll be after you. Going to the station is dangerous, once you enter her wide-area-network you are at risk of being hacked

-If you are fully organic, you are either dead, kept prisoner and made to work on the station, or part of the resistance on Asphodel.

-Anything in-between? You decide. Be creative with this.

-Fill out the form below to give us an idea of what your character is up to, what happened to them etc. Thread with each other! RP it out!

-Also, bring in your extra journals! There won't be the same people on the station ten years from now! If you're planning to app someone, or just have something interesting lying around, toss them in!

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Fuck. He knows what she's doing, she always does this, and he just wishes he had the fucking arms to reach over and hold her close right about now. Instead he's just stuck in his dark little corner, completely useless.

He's quiet, for a moment. Unsure of what to say. Is there anything he could say to make this better?

"... Y'know, once I would've loved to hear you say those words. It was worth a shot."

He sighs, letting his head rest against the wall.

"I'm not going anywhere without you."

The sudden grab is a surprise. Soundwave stands there a moment; Skyfire shouldn't be a danger anymore, but he still holds his breath.

And lets go when Skyfire does.

"QUERY. WHAT DO YOU RECALL OF US?"

Skyfire wanders in and out, but there are only scraps of who he used to be. What they used to have.

"REQUESTING ANY PROGRESSING NEW DATA."

All business.

There are many times in which he does miss being closer and calmer. Just curling up on a sofa, leaning up on Shockwave. However, he also completely understands what is the main focus here.

It's war again, and he knows how to function in that. Put aside the ... unnecessary desires and operate with what is needed.

It's a question that requires more words than he is comfortable with. Used to speaking.

It hasn't exactly been a nurturing environment for him to relearn how to live. He is a blunt weapon to be pointed and used.

The mask slides open again slowly, and he answers the question without the voice modulator.

"I remember. Feeling... good. Dancing. Music. Trees. Beds. Our... home."

He just list what comes to his mind in the screeching flashes of memory.

He doesn't want to talk about it anymore, but now that he's remembering it comes to him.

"I am chasing you. Catching you. Holding-" He pauses and looks down, as if straining for something.

"I can make you laugh..." It seems so distant. Like it's someone elses memories.

In a way, it is.

The way Skyfire describes the memories... it softens him a bit. His spark flutters and his stomach twists; Soundwave clenches his fists briefly before he steps forward. Primus, he even misses the tickling.

He crawls into Skyfire's lap, reaching up to brush his fingers over the helmet.

"LET ME SEE YOU."

This is why he doesn't come around much anymore. This is exactly why. He tenses- tempted to push Soundwave away- get up and leave. Something binds him there. He still turns his head away from the touch.

He wants to leave. There's something that hurts him.

His helmet folds back into itself and Soundwave is left to stare at his gaunt, pale face. Hair hangs down to his chin, the rest clawed back into a short ponytail. It sticks to his face in places. A bit dirty.

Nothing here is clean.

He looks like a dead man.

"Nothing at the moment." He doesn't turn his attention away from his work, carefully constructing some kind of gun.

It would be nice to spend some time with Soundwave, he won't deny that, but time isn't something that can really be spared these days. There's always so little of it left when work is done, he's lucky if he gets any sleep.

"Is that all?"

He's not trying to rush Soundwave or push him away, it's just a question that needs to be asked.

Name: Gamzee Makara (CRAU)
Current location: Asphodel
Current Physical Appearance: Gamzee is a little taller, older, not as built as his ancestor self, and minus a pair of horns. In their place are metal plates, surgically built into his skull to keep him from regrowing them. He wears a bandanna to cover what his hair won't. The hair itself is longer, and only slightly less unkempt than before. His eyes have gained his blood's indigo color with age, and he still wears the clown paint if only to maintain some sense of normalcy.

Summary: When Karkat evacuated the trolls, Gamzee stayed close to his side and has remained there, for the most part. He is extremely protective of their leader, but this was the case before everything went to shit anyway.

His horns were lost in a struggle later in which he was captured and tortured, but thankfully rescued in time. The incident made a more somber troll out of him, and his usual speech pattern has softened so that rather than speaking loudly then normally, he alternates between a normal volume and something more quiet.

As his other self has returned to the area, he's had a harder time sleeping, chucklevoodoos clashing whether the other is aware of it or not. It's possibly all psychological on Gamzee's end, but that doesn't make things any easier. His main priority is keeping those that remain free safe, and he won't try to do much in the way of reasoning, even if he knew someone before they were turned.

She's not much for gentleness. In fact, she's quite the opposite as she dumps Vriska's body on the floor of her home like it were a sack of potatoes. She stares at the cerulean blood on her hands, regarding it as if it had just said...well, as if it had just said some of the things that Vriska was usually known for saying.

She regards her fellow Hero of Light's body briefly as more blue blood leaks out, soaking into her floor. She hadn't seen how she died, but she's pretty sure she knows. At least, she hopes she does. She hopes her incredibly low opinion of Vriska is correct and she wasn't stupid enough to get herself killed through an act that the universe might construe as heroic (she didn't want to consider it being the alternative).

A couple minutes pass, and then a couple more. She removes her hood and her shades, placing her hands over her eyes. She's tired. She hasn't slept since before they'd left on their assignment, and when she'd found Vriska's corpse, she'd done her best to keep it hidden until she could bring it back here. She wracks her brain, trying to think of how long it's been since she found the body. She knows there's a delay sometimes, but does it usually take this long? When another few minutes pass, and nothing happens, she's dreading the worst. What if she's already respawned on the station? What if Hypatia has another God Tier at her disposal now. How in God's name is she going to tell that to John and Strider and Karkat?

She almost kicks Vriska. Instead, she just stomps her feet in the pool of blood and turns her back on the body.

"If you leave me alone with them like this, I swear I will bring you back myself just to kill you again, Serket..."

She won't know the difference, so it's all good. She stares at it for a moment too long as her brain processes that it's food, and food is for eating because she's not given nutrition intravenously anymore. Which is just as well, because she is skinny as fuck, and she wasn't exactly that substantial to begin with.

She reaches out and picks out one piece of popcorn, putting it in her mouth and chewing carefully. The saltiness, the faint sweetness of the butter underneath, the crunch and the way the starch almost melts--

"You didn't put enough butter on it," she says offhandedly, in an almost-Buffy tone. And then she stops, and blinks. "That... was me," she says slowly. "That was really me, wasn't it? I liked... I always poured extra butter on. Didn't I?"

She looks at Karkat with a pleading sort of hunger in her eyes. Please, please tell her that she's managed to find something that is her, not broken-her, not programmed-her, but the girl she only remembers faintly, like a forgotten dream.

Please tell her that, because it would mean that she can find the rest of that girl, too.

And that, seeing and hearing his best friend so... broken, she's obviously broken, it's like a knife to the gut.

Good thing he's gotten good at ignoring injuries until they can be tended.

"Yeah." He closes his eyes and remembers - it's hard to keep the memory fresh, it was so very long ago, but he pulls it up, their room with Jade's plants and their bunk beds and the two of them just kids sitting on the top bunk giggling instead of trying to go to sleep. "You didn't actually sleep in our room, you slept with your Daves. But you always stayed until I fell asleep. Got so I couldn't fall asleep if you weren't there, for a while."

He sighs, and opens his eyes. "What did she do to you, Jade? How-- How did she make you like this?" Maybe it can be fixed. Maybe, if they rescue her and cut off contact with Hypatia, and remove the programming, she'll be able to heal, and eventually be whole again, and not this shattered shadow of a girl John loves with all his heart.

He misses his sister.

Ah, so this was the state Mega was in? Fine, Joe could deal with this. "It ain't a matter a when but, what we do till then. I thought Light taught ya better than this." Joe says, almost wishing he'd just found a murderous Megaman rather than one so devoid of hope.

"As for heroes. Proto seemed ta like enough of us to do what he did. Roll gave up bein' a kid ta fight with us. Eridan's lost an eye, a leg, and he still tries ta help. Yeah, maybe we can't win. This ain't some old man in a tower but, we can give her hell and if she locks us out of here and brings even more new people. We can warn 'em."

He stands up to attention, turning to look at (or through) her.

"I'm_{i'm_i'mi'm} h-here."

Under the glitching, his voice is quiet and expressionless, if not completely monotone. There's no thought behind it, just a simple acknowledgement of the order.

There's no obvious change at first. His code's so garbled now that messing with it like that isn't going to make much of a difference.

Not much, but a little.

Somewhere deep, deep beneath Hypatia's programming and the game's, a part of him called Dave Strider becomes active for the first time in years.

The sprite still follows his orders without question or hesitation, but piece by piece he begins to wake up and become aware of his surroundings once more. One night, there is a moment when there is no work for him to do and the AI's grip loosens a little. Just for that small moment, he curls up on himself and screams.

By then Nepeta's returned to her den, curling in on herself as she tries to lick the wound clean. It's more damage than she's sustained in a long time and quite frankly she's not thrilled at all. The throbbing pain makes using this arm for the time being impossible, unless she's eager to experience more injury.

The only comforting thought she has for now is that she lost Karkat. The sulkier part of her mind hopes that he'll wander around the tunnels for days before dropping dead of starvation. That would show him.

She'll have none of that, no sir. Gamzee's claws slash open cuts that go unnoticed for the present as she gets her feet up and attempts to use their momentum to throw him over her. There'll be no dying today if she can help it.

This isn't what he would want, you know.

He wouldn't want you to be killing anyone actually trying to fight.

Really. Rose should know by now to never turn her back on the body.

Mere seconds after she does just that, wispy tendrils of multicoloured smoke begin curling around Vriska's corpse. After a minute or two of overly-flashy lighting effects and rainbow bullshittery, she's as good as new.

There's no thanks for her rescuer, though. Instead Vriska wipes her bloody hands on her pants, sits up and examines her surroundings with something in between disinterest and disgust.

"Your block is a shithive."

There are several pan-dimensional facts that are widely recognised as being universal constants. Here are a few of them.

1) Ice cream is fucking delicious.
2) Every universe contains at least one instance of John Cusack.
3) All Vriska Serkets love breaking things.

The latter doesn't change even when the Vriska in question is a little broken herself. So being told to act as a distraction to lead Hypatia's defenses away from one of the resistance's infiltration teams is pretty much the best assignment she can possibly get.

She picks a large, relatively-lightly-guarded building and gets to work. Windows get shattered. Drones get punted into walls. Giant monitors displaying codes she doesn't understand get smashed to pieces.

The fun won't really start until Hypatia sends in reinforcements, naturally. Vriska can't fucking wait.

[hey Karkat heeeeey. guess who made a trip down to Asphodel?

how's the leg, by the way?]

And here they come, the glowy orange security system well ahead of the drones. It's not prudent to separate from the group like that, but lately he's been more independent. He's not breaking his orders, so it's fine. He's just being enthusiastic.

He floats there for a second, staring at Vriska, not quite recognising her, until the programming kicks in again and he attacks. Hypatia deemed a focus on melee combat alone inefficient, so he now wields his sword in one hand and a pistol in the other. Right now he's firing the latter at his former moirail without hesitation.

She's not as fast as a Strider, obviously, but Vriska's reflexes are pretty quick. Dodging torrents of gunfire has become second nature over the last few sweeps, so avoiding one measly shot should be wiggler's play.

Except it's not. There's a wave of pain and a spurt of blood as the shot punches a hole through her upper arm (always the left, ALWAYS), and all Vriska can do is stare like a slack-jawed moron. That's —

"Dave! DAVE!"

After a second's worth of indecision, she ducks behind a partially-smashed terminal to catch her breath. This isn't fair.

It shouldn't matter. Seeing that blue blood and hearing that name shouted shouldn't matter to him at all. He's not that person anymore (isn't a person at all)

But

it does.

He fires again, but the aim's sloppy and the shot flies far from its target. The gun sinks down. He stares at nothing, lips trying to form the half-remembered name that goes with that blue.

Behind the terminal, Vriska has caught her breath. Now she has designs on catching something else.

She launches herself into the air and over the wrecked machinery, decaptchaloguing a small smoke bomb and tossing it to the ground as she does so. The mission and the infiltration team can go fuck themselves with a rusty pail - Vriska is getting her moirail back and getting the hell out.

She's also completely missed the reduction in said moirail's hostility and is speeding towards him like a determined sparkly fairymissile. Oops.

Unfortunately for Vriska, her effort backfires pretty spectacularly. The glimpse of a fast-moving hostile switches his programming back on track, removing the uncertainty from his expression once again.

The smoke doesn't even register as a distraction- even if Vriska didn't leave fucking sparkles in her wake, he's been programmed with infrared vision that makes her heat signature stand against the cold background.

The sprite raises his sword, but doesn't move yet. It's easier to let the target come to him.

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Dark Future Meme

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Always late to the good memes.

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