Chapter Text
[SAW-06-513370]
[STATUS: NORMAL]
[DATE: 7-8-13 A.M.]
[BEGIN LOG]
My hands drift over the barrel of the tactical SMG as I fix it back into place. It had been working rather well despite its age, but the other day it jammed, badly. So badly in fact it broke the whole magazine assembly. It was definitely the jam that did that, and not the frustrated orange who was using it at the time bashing the thing for not working, but whatever. It didn’t matter why it broke, because, to quote one of my ‘allies,’ “if I didn’t fix it, I’d be the next thing to break.”
Just another day in the wasteland.
[WEAPON ASSEMBLY: 89% COMPLETE. TEST-FIRE READY.]
The words appear in my vision as I turn the SMG over in my hand. Little details were magnified in my vision, accompanied with material composition, weapon serial numbers, wear and tear, probability of part failure, approximate age, and a dozen other things I had to mentally filter out. My chip was amazing, yeah, but it’s also just, a lot. If scanning things was all it did then I would be fine, probably, but that’s not what it does, does it?
On top of seeing every dent and scratch this gun had to offer, information was pulled up at the edges of my vision just in case I needed it. Schematics, manufactory documents, audio samples of its firing sound, and etc. It must have been linked to some external database, right? It was either that or it had a very, very big hard drive.
But hey! It doesn’t just work on guns! I could analyze a drink to see if it’s poisoned, or I could find manuals for any piece of tech I need! Which, I honestly didn’t learn wasn’t normal until some time ago! Even to those who can see the health of their own body like I do, this isn’t normal. But still! It’s really, REALLY cool!!!
It's also completely useless in this case, because I knew what the issue was, and I can’t fix it.
[CRITICAL BREAK DETECTED - REPLACEMENT PARTS REQUIRED!]
The receiver was cracked. Which was fine, as long as the Frame wasn’t completely fucked, but we can’t always get what we want can we?
“Hey dumbass!” A hand slams on the table I’m using and makes me jump out of my skin. “Hell-ooo?? Are you even listening to me?!?”
I look up at the owner of the hand; a leapy who owned the gun I was working on. The greenery around his head and back furled, what was his name again?
[ACCESSING FACIAL RECOGNITION DATABASE...]
[IDENTIFIED: DUNCAN.]
[FRUSTRATION - APPROACH WITH CAUTION]
“Uh...” I gently scratch the spines on the back of my head. “I was focused, sorry.”
“Meh me meh meeh mi meh~” Duncan mocks, “Just tell me if my gun’s ready or not!”
Oh great! Here comes the fun part!
“Well uh, bad news...” I carefully place both hands on the table. “Your frame’s busted and needs a full replacement. Until then it’s gonna be almost unusable.”
“Some load’a help YOU are!” He grabs the gun from the table, checks it, and points it at me all threatening-like. “And why do you say almost?”
[NO MAGAZINE DETECTED: NO THREAT.]
“Try loading a mag and you’ll see what I mean.” I say with probably a bit too much snark.
The leapy scowls and spins the gun in his hand, now threatening to hit me with it. “Just tell me what’s wrong, dipshit.”
[WARNING, LIGHT THREAT DETECTED.]
Yeah obviously! I sigh, then explain. “You can eject a mag just fine, but if you try to load a new one the whole thing’ll fall apart. You’d have to rebuild the gun every time you reload.”
“You’d be rebuilding the gun, pipsqueak.” He growled, then slammed the gun back on the table, “useless piece of shit- just load it up and give it to me!”
“Alright, alright!” I squeak in reply, before looking back down to the SMG, “No need to get your vines in a twist.”
Dunan grabs my head by the fur and slams my into the table--
[WARNING: BRUISING]
[SKIN: 94%]
[BRAIN: 97%]
“--Don’t get cocky just because you’re useful, got it?!?” He says, “If it weren’t for that stupid fucking chip in your head you’d just be taking up space and resources! Remember that!”
“R-right...” My vision clears quickly, and I can hear my assailant moving away. I take a breath, then sit up and get back to work. Dumbass, why’d we antagonize him? One of these days they’re gonna kill us, intentionally or not.
I start slipping back into The Zone as I start disassembling and reassembling the gun, the outside world tuned out so I can focus on the information I need. Taking everything in all at once gave me headaches, so usually I just tune it all out. It’s funny, really, whatever chip’s in my head makes it so I can notice anything, but also means I notice nothing at all. If that’s not the dumbest shit ever then I don’t know what is.
To be fair, it’s not like we had a manual for this thing! Whoops! Hey fucknuts, it looks like our life’s been changed forever! Whoops! Headaches and nausea and hallucinations are now our baseline! Whoops! Better not take braingrow or we’ll end up some mindless walking husk! Whoops! Whoopsie!!!
I don’t want to think about that anymore.
[BODY CHECKUP - TIME: 17:38]
[FOOD: 36%]
[THIRST: 72%]
[IMMUNITY: 86%]
[O2: 97%]
[PAIN: 2%]
[AVERAGE BODY TEMP: 32°C - NORMAL]
[COGNITION: 97% - COMPENSATING FOR PERMANENT BRAIN DAMAGE]
[NO INFECTIONS DETECTED.]
The gun’s back in one piece again, so I set it aside in favor of my own personal project; a pistol I’ve been refurbishing. It’s an old piece that I had literally found in the trash, and it was mine. I wasn’t allowed to have any ammo for it apart from rubber bullets in case I shoot anyone in the back. Yeah, like I’d do that. I hate it here, but I much prefer this over dying alone in the wastelands.
Without food, water, shelter, transportation, and someone to watch my back, I’d be dead in a week with or without my chip! It’s been seven years since that mission had ended, whatever it was, and this planet hadn’t become any safer for it. Really, all I can do right now is just, stay put.
[MINIMAL WEAR AND TEAR DETECTED.]
Okay, that’s enough polishing my rod (heheh, rod), what was I supposed to do next again? I rub my temples and do a biiiiiig stretch before rubbing down my snow-white coat to get some sense back to my senses. Maybe I should ask uh- Max? Was it Max? They were the one in charge of this little group, maybe we could ask-
Maybe we could ask-
Maybe we could ask-
Maybe. We. Could. Ask. Them. What. To. Do. Next? Okay, that, yes. I rub my eyes. Sure, Max wasn't the best, but they were leagues better than Duncan. Alongside those two, I was traveling with two expies and a dune, and each of them were.... Opinionated. In general they were usually indifferent, creeped out, or outright hostile to me.
Better than the last couple groups I was stuck with, I guess?
We could still do better.
“Eyes up!!” Yells someone from outside, “Visitor!”
[AUDIO MATCH: CLAW - SAW-12: “DUNE”]
We were set up inside an old checkpoint that sat right in the middle of a road, so it wasn't the least bit surprising someone would show up eventually. We weren't exactly bandits or anything, but we- they, our allies, weren't really saints either. Scavengers fit better, or maybe mercenaries or something, but that doesn't really matter, we’re all just trying to live after all.
“Ah what fucking now” Said an approaching Duncan, who soon after appeared in the doorframe. “Hey Idi-!”
“Loaded and in one piece.” I slide the SMG across the table as he approaches, “just remember you only have one mag.”
“Yeah whatever.” He dismissed, scooping up the gun and a few extra mags. “Get your peashooter and get a move on.”
I grab my pistol and follow, “Copy.”
Duncan and I move to the building entrance, where Max and an expie- [IDENTIFIED: TROY] Troy is standing by, guns drawn. Max waves us over.
“What now?” Asks Duncan.
“Claw saw some drifter, she's out there now checking ‘em out.” Max gestures at me, “How ‘bout you go help?”
“Me-?!?” I start, but bite my lip, and move to the exit, “right, okay, I can do that.”
“Don't trip,” Troy jokes as I leave.
[WEATHER: OVERCAST | LIGHT PRECIPITATION - SNOWFALL]
[LIGHT SATURATION: 48%]
[PREDICTED FORECAST: BLIZZARD: 76% | HEAVY SNOWFALL: 13% | LIGHT SNOWFALL: 9% | OTHER: 2%]
I push the overly-detailed information out of my mind as a snowflake lands on my nose. Ah... While the others were annoyed by the cold, this is where I thrived. The soft powdered snow in my pale-blue fur, the wind whistling against the spines on my body; being a roza is awesome!
“Scram! Dune wants you gone!”
Alright, moment over; I turn towards the hissing Sawian. I always thought Dunes always looked like bats more than bugs, but then again I usually didn't get too close. Claw was the first one I'd gotten up close to and honestly? Not as terrifying as everyone says they are. Well, unless they WANT to be terrifying, and oh boy Claw could be terrifying! Like right now! She was screaming at this stranger, but I couldn’t see who or what they were; Claw was blocking the view.
“Deaf?! Can't hear??!?” Claw yells again as I approach, “Leave!!!”
“Uh...” I start moving to the side as I approach, “Is everything alright?”
“Won’t leave! Stupid!!” Claw hissed back, “Might shoot, then eat. Dune huuungry~”
[ACCESSING FACIAL RECOGNITION DATABASE...]
Finally! I can see the expie clearly! “M-maybe, don’t?? I’m sure there’s--”
[ ! WARNING ! ] [ ! WARNING ! ] [ ! WARNING ! ]
FUCKING HELL--
[A-CLASS THREAT DETECTED!]
W-what’s going on?! A-alpha-?!?
[IDENTIFIED: NONAMELISTED - MERCENARY, ASSASSIN.]
[HISTORY OF MURDER, MANSLAUGHTER, ARSON, TORTURE, DESTRUCTION OF PROPERTY, THEFT...]
H-hold on hold on-!! I can feel my fur sticking out on end adrenaline pump through my body. My heart feels like it’s about to explode but I- I have to warn-- “CLAW--”
[RECOMMENDED COURSE OF ACTION-]
In a quick motion, the experiment with the flowing red scarf strikes Claw in the chest. Once she’s doubled over, they snap her neck.
[-RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!]
I spin on my heels and sprint away as fast as I can.
“THE HELL?!?” Yells Max as they and the other expie- [IDENTIFIED: EWA] -run towards the mercenary. “DON'T RUN, SHOOT!!”
I want to warn them, to scream for them to just run, but every ounce of my body is focused on getting back inside as fast as possible. Gunshots ring in my ears, and I feel one fly by my head.
[GRAVITY ANOMALY DETECTED!]
My head snaps up at the warning just in time to see a thin, pale-blue line stretching out from behind me towards a pile of scrap! What are they- [EXPLOSIVE MATERIAL DETECTED!] -OH C-CRAP!!!
I dive down into the snow as a barrel of something flies over my head followed soon after by an explosion- FUCK my ears HURT!! But there's no time to dwell, what the hell just happened??!?! I shake my head clear, then pull up the notes again. okay, what the FUCK was that?!?
[-RAPID REGENERATION, GRAVITY MANIPULATION, BODY SWI-] Gravity manipulation! Right! That was one of the things beamed into my head that I just didn’t have time to process!! I get up to a knee and stumble my way back into the checkpoint-
“FFFFAAAAAAHH---!!!”
The scream leaves our mouth as a bullet enters our leg just as we make it to the door. Duncan grabs us and half drags, half throws us clear of the doorway.
[BLOOD LOSS: -0.31/ML | SHRAPNEL DETECTED]
“What the fuck’re you thinking?!?” Duncan barks as he peeks past the doorway, “What’re you a coward?!”
[MUSCLE: 74% | SKIN: 81%]
“G-got-gotta run, can’t, c-can’t--!!” There’s blood on my hands, what's going on?! Am I going into shock?!
“Stay focused, D!” Troy tosses me a bandage. “What’re we dealing with, bud!?”
[WARNING: COGNITION AT 92%]
“Bad, danger- can’t ki-kill them or, o-or-” I’m stumbling over my words, trying to talk and pick the shrapnel out of my leg-
Pick the shrapnel out of my leg-
Pick the shrapnel out of my-
Pick, the shrapnel-
Please-
“Shit!” Troy curses as a few more shots ring out, “Max and Ewa’s dead!”
Pick. Shrapnel. Out. Of. Leg. Hands are shaking, I let out a whimper, hurts, please work, please please please-
“God dammit!!!” Duncan returns fire, “Hurry up dipshit or we’re all gonna end up dead!!!”
“I-I don’t know! I don’t-!!” [WARNING: TACHYCARDIA DETECTED!] “Re-re-regenerates, good at guns, and- ke-keep them away!!!”
“Wow! I never woulda thought of that!”
“Cut it out, D! Help me barricade the door!!” Troy snaps, and the two start upturning a table. “Alright, keep going, what else?”
“They can- They can- they can-” Words failing at the mouth, trying to stop bleeding. “They can- they can take- can- can-”
“Her brain’s fried like an egg I bet.” Duncan grunts [GRAVITY ANOMALY DETECTED!] “useless piece of HOLY FUCK!”
The upturned table flies across the room, slams into Duncan, and pins him to the wall. Troy’s cursing, swearing, moves to flank the doorway, readies his AR. Dragging myself away, need to, hide, no, yes, fix leg? Yes!
“Goddamit help me out, Troy!!”
“Gimmie a second!!!!”
[BLOOD LOSS: -0.19/ML, -0.18/ML...]
I can see the mercenary’s silhouette through the doorway.
“AAAAAAH!!!!!” Troy rounds the doorway and fires, and doesn't stop until the click of an empty mag is all that’s left. Bullets flew back, some grazed him, some were too close to me. Then. Quiet.
“AAH.... AH.... AH........” Troy pants, relaxes, then turns back to the room with a smile. “I... Ha, I think I got ‘em!!”
Got... Who? Wait, wait no!!!
A moment later, Duncan shoots Troy with his Tac-SMG until there’s nothing left.
Once the ringing stops, all that’s left is howling winds from outside. He’s dead. They’re all dead. Blood, as orange as the evening sun, coated the far wall, and I think I can see bone where some bullets split Troy's skull.
[WARNING! TRAUMA-SHOCK!]
Duncan sighs, not even acknowledging me, a-and starts reloading. No, that’s- T-that’s not Duncan. Not anymore, it’s-
Not anymore, it’s-
Not anymore, it’s-
I can’t move.
The mercenary and I lock eyes. Their eyes, they’re... Bored, dark, absent-minded, and their face has an expression that’s impossible to read. It’s like- it’s like Duncan never even existed; they’re... They’re hollow- a-and they’re loading another mag! Wh-what, whatdoIdo, what do I- Just say the first thing that comes to mind!!!
“C-c-careful that’ll, that’ll--” I stutter out as the Merc snaps the gun in half trying to reload. “.... B-break...”
They look at me, and even though the expression doesn’t change, I can’t help but think it’s a look as if to say “really?”. They throw the gun away, push the table off of themself, and start walking towards me. With a gesture, a gun flies into their hand- MY GUN! I must have dropped it-!
“W-waitwaitwait!” It feels like time slows as they start aiming the gun at me. What. Do. I. Do.
[BUILDING PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE...]
[HOLLOW - MINIMAL INFORMATION AVAILABLE.]
[MONETARILY MOTIVATED.]
Monetarily?! Wait!!! “Y-youwantmealive!!”
Even though I know the bullets in there are rubber, staring down a barrel is still terrifying. The Merc cocks their head as if to say “explain.”
“I- I'm useful!” Okay, bad start but let's keep going. “T-theres a gadget in my brain that lets me- that scans whatever I see a-and- details! Shows me details! Numbers! Probabilities and- and- and-!” NO NO NO NO NO NOT NOW! WORK, STUPID MOUTH! WORK! WORK!!!!!
“You knew who I was.”
[BLOOD LOSS: -0.8/ML.]
The voice hits me like a wave of rushing water. It’s, it’s not Duncan's voice. Despite the voice box being the same, the tone, how they speak, it’s miles different than before. It’s cold, monotone, factual and to the point.
Hollow.
[WARNING: PROLONGED TACHYCARDIA DETECTED!]
“Answer.” They command.
My breath catches, “Ye-y-yes! I- y-your scarf, a-an-and your face! E-even though it’s- it’s not the same you have a- have a uh, uh- D-distinctive expression!”
They didn't respond, were they waiting for me to explain more? O-or prove myself?!? I try to move, but wince, leg hurts-
BANG!
I freeze on the spot, shaking, that- ththaaahat hit to- to- to- next to my head--
[BLOOD LOSS: -0.7/ML | INFECTION DETECTED]
“Do not move.” Came the cold voice. I don’t dare reply. A second later, there’s a thud of footsteps as they walk to my side, crouch down, and pick up the remains of the bullet they just fired. “. . . Rubber bullets?”
“T-they- they wouldn’t- they wouldn't- they wouldn't-” My tongue fails for a moment, but I try again. “They wouldn’t. Give me. Any b-bullets.”
“. . .” They look at the gun for a second, toss the mag, clear the chamber, and inspect one of the bullets. Then, they drop the gun on my chest. “. . . Stay.”
[CONSCIOUSNESS: 79%]
I keep my vision glued to the mercenary even though my heart feels like it’s about to explode. They’re crouched over Troy's body, looking for, things. My fingers feel numb, my vision is- a-are they, i-ingnoring me?
“. . . . . A-are you g-gonna. . .” My voice is a whisper.
“I am not being paid to kill you.” Came the cold response. One second later, they stood, having taken whatever it is they wanted, and glanced at me. “Name?”
“My...?” Name?
[CONSCIOUSNESS: 53%]
[O2: 85%]
[BLOOD LOSS: -0.7/ML | INFECTION DETECTED]
What’s... Our name?
I blink, light-headed and... And... And vision getting blurry, but looking, top-left corner, my name, my name, our name? I-it’s.... “S-Sleet. My name’s, m-my name’s, Sleeah...”
What’sgoing...?
I can barely....?
[CONSCIOUSNESS: 46%]
[O2: 81%]
[BLOOD LOSS: -0.7/ML | INFECTION DETECTED]
Can barely..... Barely.....
Eyes..... Open.....
......
[CONSCIOUSNESS: 35%]
[O2: 78%]
[BLOOD LOSS: -0.7/ML | INFECTION DETECTED]
...........
[CONSCIOUSNESS: 29%]
[O2: 73%]
[BLOOD LOSS: -0.7/ML | INFECTION DETECTED]
..............
[CONSCIOUSNESS: 26%]
[O2: 71%]
[BLOOD LOSS: -0.6/ML, -0.5/ML, -0.3/ML... | INFECTION DETECTED]
............................
[CEFTRIAXONE DETECTED IN BLOODSTREAM]
[BLOOD LOSS: 0.00/ML]
[HEART RATE: NORMAL]
[VITAL SIGNS STABILIZED]
[END LOG]