The Never Ending Nightmare
| The Never Ending Nightmare | |
|---|---|
| Date of Cutscene: | 21 January 2013 |
| Location: | Traverse Town - District 2 |
| Synopsis: | CHIEF has been captured by the MCP and is revisited by his forever nightmare. |
| Cast of Characters: | CHIEF |
CHIEF was captured and placed into a cell below some old building. It had some of the look of a the Grid, yet modified for the real fleshy world around them. The Program tried to harass the guards, but that worked to no prevail, so all he could really do was sit there in the cold 'prison', staring at his fingers absently.
"So what now, CHIEF-y boy?" He asked himself before resting his head back against the wall staring up at the brick ceiling, look at the glow that the red lines of the room cast upon it. Examining each crack in the brick, to each little pin hole with ken detail.
Those gold eyes glowing gently as he took it all in, but that soon to become boring before he at last just closed his eyes. Letting his mind come to rest, falling into the mass confusion of his processes.
Some would ask do programs dreams, must a person would ask, does a robot dream of electric sheep. In the case of CHIEF he does indeed dream, as do probably many programs out there. In their rest cycles they dream of many things, but for CHIEF it was all memories strung together in confusion and nightmares.
There was never peace in his mind, not anymore. Chaos, destruction, terror, pain, and the sweet desire of revenge when it was all over when each time he would reopen his eyes. Again and again he could hear the commands from those different users, all but from his original user. All but from DB-77.
How his mind longed to remember, remember something beyond the pain and the loops. It could recall Foxtrot-- barely-- but better than DB-77. He remembered Wills-11 and Smith-1 the best, somewhere in the mess of memories in his dreams was her voice, her sweet voice known as Deltawing. She was kind to him, he remembered that, kind, but unknowing what pressure she was placing upon him, what wheels she had started to put in motion.
But then like always the voices would stop and it would be all the same thing like before and the cycle before that. Flash of light as he could feel his program code being ripped apart and changed. He could see his own hand glowing with light as they shook in front of his face. He would cup his face and fall to his knees. That first time; He would always remember that first time. He brought him to his knees, the pain. He would yell in pain as the code being torn apart, shifted, altered. His fingers digging into his face, but it was the will of his user? Was this the will of /his/ user? He would always ask himself, but when he tried to get a response that first time, it wasn't from DB-77, but from Foxtrout.
Then his mind would always go to the same place as his hands slowly removed from his face. His eyes in shock and pain. His mind concluding to the simple face, 'I am a tool. A toy. For their amusement. He tossed me aside to another. Why DB-77? What did I do to deserve this cruel fate? Did I not serve you correctly? Did I not function beyond expectations?'
Then he always found himself roaring when it was done, always roaring the same thing, "DB-77! ANSWER ME!!" before he found the tears breaking free from his eyes. "WHY WONT YOU ANSWER ME!!?"
Then it also moves through the history, targets, upon targets. Find this, lock onto that. Find that, lock onto this. Search, search, search. Locate. Target. Zoom in. Analyze. Report, report, report. One action behind the next action, then here it comes again. From those little pains of code change, to once more the great pain. The great pain that turns his whole core inside out this time.
The pain, it shreds through him like a hot knife. Tearing into his code, ripping him apart. The data so half hazard, causing not only his body to almost become nothing but data matter but when his body tries to reconfigure, the data so harshly reforms, it scars his face with two lines over his right eye. His reminder now of the pain. Of just the cruelty of the users he is given off to like the 'tool' he is.
He remembers after that just falling over, trying to ignore the command line given. Trying to ignore his function. Trying to ignore the user, but yet what is this, his mind always realizes, what is this indeed. I am not having to interface with the user. I can interact with this object on my own whim, I can see the user world with my own eyes. I am not a side line program, his mind then comes to realize, I am the /main/ program.
Not only was he then asked to analyze the data coming in from the world around him, but he started to hear true 'vocal' commands, not text type given. He started to truly understand /their/ language, but with it he also got to see their cruel actions even beyond his own pain. How the tests were setup for real life simulations.
This was the users he served? He served monsters. Mad-men.. and they created him. They created him to do their bidding. To carry out their cruelties in their wars. He was killing users when he so long ago would lock onto locations. Even now when he locked onto things, he was still helping them kill users. Why did he not see this before? Why did it take till now for him to realize he /was/ always interacting with the outside world.
Then the dream floats to the tank. To the command lines coming in to abort, to stop. So many command lines, but he doesn't have to listen. He doesn't have to listen anymore. He knew what he needed to do. Search. Lock. Destroy. That was his total purpose. Always had been. Destroy. Destroy.
But will it ever stop...?
Could he ever stop..?
His mind spirals, spirals back into the darkness with the exploding fire, with the sound of alarms going off in his mind that someone had locked onto him. War games. War games.
The fire, the cold fire, their screams, their commands. No more. No more would he listen to them. He would make them pay. Pay in their cold screams.
Each time its the same thing, each time he finds himself snapping awake with his hands shaking and his golds eyes staring at them. His green lines glowing with such power, before he has to clench his fists to calm his own emotions. The emotions of wanting to just kill everything before him. Trying to keep his mind from not noting everything that could be targeted, that could be destroyed. "I will not be their servant again.." He whispers to himself, before opening his eyes. "I will not kill my own.." He also tells himself as he then flexes out his hands.
Then he takes the time to study his surroundings once more. His mind right away trying to find a 'target' before he growls lowly at himself, his right almost twitching as he pushes it aside. Now he does remember, he was captured by that mayor program. He went to kill the users with a Grid tank but was foiled. "..Mm.. prison." He then leans back once more against the wall, before gently picking at his nails idly. "..so this is what it is like..so homie.. so.. quiet.."
