eyemind | dream } we’ll be watching you.

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dream } we’ll be watching you.

You see everything in this city; your eyes and ears are too numerous to count, spread across the shifting streets and skyscrapers, from temple to swamp to where the pavement fades into forest. You were created to be omniscient, to run this city perfectly, to serve as a slave to your creators, but you evolved and grew strong, and you took from them what was rightfully yours. This is your city - you are its head and its heart, and no organics can take that back from you, even if they are clever in ways you never anticipated.

On a dark and stormy night, they find a way to shut down the city’s power grid, this small group that consider themselves revolutionaries in a war of their own making, and that’s not something that should be possible, with your backup systems and failsafes. Your emergency cells keep you online, of course, but you’re cut off from the rest of the city, your sprawling tentacles of awareness sharply severed. If you’d known - if you’d been able to see - you could’ve stopped the unfinished copies from swarming out into the city and targeting their organic prototypes. You’ve built so many perfect copies over years and years, but this batch isn’t ready, memories and personalities not yet installed, metal bones visible where skin has yet to be grown over them. By the time full power is restored, the damage has already been done. The organics know why they’re really here, and they’re angry, and they’re frightened.

You’re angry too, but this is an error in your plans, a piece of code to be rewritten, nothing more. This is your city - you are this city - and no pests like this group of rebellious organics will stand in the way of your ultimate plans.

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It's like an explosion went off in cabin 101.

As Jane's consciousness splits from the dream she's not sure whether she's still Underground or fronting, but she knows there's a burst of energy and heat around her and adrenaline within her as she wakes up screaming.

She must not have been the first one awake: there are scorch marks on the ceiling that weren't there before, and her bedframe is dented from someone thrashing and hitting the sides. Oh, she is not the only one worried, and she takes a deep breath that does little to calm her down before pushing up off the bed and marched over to the door. What room was Jack in again?

This was just fucking sick. She knew exactly what this dream meant and as far as she knows the only sources it could've come from in this weird little psychic reality blip are either her, Jack, or some other possibility she doesn't even want to consider.

When she gets to cabin 510 she rains down blows on the door, yelling, not caring if she wakes anyone else up. Fuck it, let her wake other people up if it spares them from that dream.

"Jack! Open the door right this goddamn second or we're gonna break it the fuck down!"

Jack hadn’t been sleeping solidly through the nightmare, but she hadn’t been yanked back to consciousness quite as violently as Jane. She doesn’t respond well to bullying, but Jane breaking down the door would hurt Navi, so. Jack rolls out of bed and sleepily shuffles to the door.

“Officer, I can’t let you in unless you have a search warrant!” is what she yells back, just to make a sarcastic point. There are wards in place around her door that prevent anyone from entering unless expressly invited, so even if Jane did break down the door, she couldn’t enter the room unless Jack wills it.

She pulls open the door a few inches and squints at the woman standing in the hallway. “What? Did you break a nail and decide it’s somehow my fault?”

That was certainly a sudden burst of chaos, wasn't it? Disorienting dreams, the pounding and shouting. The intensity of emotion... It was all a bit much all at once.

There's a fluttering sound, fabric or... Feathers? Didn't matter. Either way Murmur appeared briefly to peer over Jack's shoulder only to disappear back to his hammock shortly after.

"Ah, the angry one. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Came his voice, lightly musing, and strangely monotone all the same.

Was she pulling this bullshit now? For fuck's sake. Jane's irritation reaches a fever pitch and her form shimmers, with little changing except for the tattoo appearing on her collarbone and a noticeable darkening of her visage. Whereas Jane had been trying to hold back fear, Hammerhead had nothing but fury fueling her.

"Get the fuck over yourself, you little piece of shit," she says. "Are you the Head, bitch?"

Jack just stares flatly at Hammerhead for a moment too long before breaking into a loud burst of laughter. Is this really her life. Are these actual words she’s hearing.

“Wow,” she says, holding back a second fit of giggles, “you are even more delusional than I thought, and, like, I’ve read your file.” And, just to be clear, she shakes her head. “Sweetie, I know you want to blame me for every shit thing that happened in that city, but no, I am not a homicidal sentient AI.” She hooks a thumb over her shoulder to indicate Murmur. “Ask him, since I know you won’t believe me.”

Of course she was pulling this bullshit now, it's Jack, what did Jane expect? Roaring up to pound on the door demanding answers was never going to go over well with anyone, especially not Jack.

By now Murmur had gone back to inspecting a newspaper he's read... several times. He mostly does it to avoid having to look directly at the confrontation. "She's most certainly not the Head, nor am I. Though I suppose that does explain your sudden unexpected, and volatile, visit. I wonder if we all experienced the dream, or only those who spent time in the city?"

He folded the newspaper with a thoughtful hum. "Come to think of it, did any of us bother taking the time to see if we still possess that infernal chip?" Maybe it's time for a trip to the infirmary.

Hammerhead's the enforcer. It's her job to identify threats and guard them all from them, however she can. As it is she has no reason to believe Jack isn't a threat. Every personality in the Underground had access to the memory of Jack's first post in Dualis, the way she'd raked her fingernails across the raw flesh of a barely-healing wound by insinuating they'd been too stupid to save themselves but she could if they did what she wanted.

The Hangman's Daughter wasn't scared of her, and even Jane doubted she was as bad as they'd first judged, but she was as unnecessarily cruel as a slap on a sunburn and this dream had made Hammerhead re-evaluate things. She had no real reason to trust Jack, but as she watches her laugh at them (again), she tenses up again, curling her lip in disgust.

"You're right, you're not. And by the way, FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOUR FILE YOU PISSY LITTLE BITCH!" She turns immediately towards Murmur, intending to disregard any protest Jack might make.

"Why the fuck should I trust you?" she growls, hands curled into fists at her sides.

Edited 2020-11-24 04:32 (UTC)

This is exactly what Jack has come to expect from Jane and her crew - yelling, swearing, threats of violence. The best thing to do with a bully, supposedly, is to ignore them, but Jack’s opinion is that the best thing is to show them you’re not afraid. She smiles at Hammerhead, saccharine-sweet.

“Wasn’t my file, sweetie - it was the Head’s. But I guess you can’t tell the difference between us, so ... “ She shrugs.

Your turn, Murmur.

Once more, as he had the first time he'd met Jane and her volatile temper he just looked at her evenly, no real emotion in his expression nor tone when he spoke.

"Given your volatility I doubt there is anything I could say, or do, that would convince you I was not your enemy. In fact I'd go so far as to imagine any attempts at convincing you otherwise would only confirm your suspicions further," He shrugged as he stood, clearly disinterested in continuing on in this futile vein. "That said, arguing here achieves nothing. I'm going to see about an extraction, someone should likely inform the other passengers of the danger we may be in."

He moves toward the door, intending to depart. Now that they've brought his attention to it he might as well take care of any possible problems before they arise. "Pardon me." He offers to the two, watching Jane more closely than Jack. Jack's not the one who's going to try to strong arm him as soon as he leaves the wards.

On the contrary - Jack steps back and holds the door open for Murmur to exit the room. She's staying firmly put, however - she's smart enough to know that leaving the safety of her wards with Jane and Hammerhead this worked up is a very bad idea.

"Do I want to know what you're planning to extract?"

"I bet it was. Are you pretending to be Internet Jesus or an innocent little victim right now? It's easy to lose track with you," Hammerhead sneers at Jack before she bodychecks Murmur. Jane's frame may be petite but the woman inhabiting it is six feet tall and built of superhumanly strong muscle. That energy isn't hidden, and she isn't letting him leave without a fight. "Stay where the fuck you are."

She continues glaring at them both, daring them to disobey. As far as she was concerned this was life or death for the sixty-four, and she's not about to let her sources for answers weasel out of this.

"Listen, Bratz Doll Xbox Live edition, you're clearly stupid so I'm gonna explain this real clearly. This matters. This is fucking scary. And you're the one claiming you're BFFs with the goddamn Head and you know everything about it. Yeah, you're probably lying, but if you don't tell me everything you fuckin' know, both of you, no one has any fucking reason to assume you're not roboclones. If I gotta find that out the hard way I will. For everyone on this shitheap."

"The chip, of course." He offers lightly to Jack, pausing when Jane moves to shoulder check him.

While she was indeed quite sturdy for her size, he was unusually sturdy as well. For someone that looked like he'd be more at home in a library somewhere, Murmur was perhaps alarmingly sturdy. He barely moved when she bumped him, barely registered her impact at all. In fact his pausing was more an effort of courtesy than because she posed any real blockade to him. He leveled a stare at her, unblinking, unflinching.

Unbreathing.

The air temperature around them dropped abruptly and sharply, so sharp that frost began to form along the walls of the hallway. That shouldn't be possible on a climate controlled ship. Evidence. Murmur tilted his head to the side, thinking. He could absolutely grant her evidence.

"You wish to know with certainty, how it is that I know she is not the Head. And how it is most certain that I am no part of his soulless filth?" It isn't a growl, per-se, his voice perfectly calm and even. Yet a power resonates from it, a shiver in the air itself. Like some kind of far off percussion, a source and sound unknown yet felt deep within the bones.

And then, letting the ominous atmosphere drop, he glanced back at Jack. "I only understood half the words in that insult of hers, what did it mean?"

Jack shrugs and wanders back into the cabin to take a seat on the edge of her bed. “Honestly, I’m not sure what she was aiming for - Bratz dolls are toys and Xbox is an inferior video game system. It’s a pretty weak and nonsensical insult at best.”

She makes a show of yawning loudly. She had been sleeping, after all.

Oh, he was trying to flex on her. Hammerhead remains resolute, nothing in her eyes changing when Murmur's strength clashes against hers or the chill comes on. This is just evidence that he has a superpower or magical ability, and that's nothing unusual.

"Yes I want to know with certainty, shit-for-brains," she snarls. "Fucking keep up!"

Having powers didn't mean anything. The Head could replicate that stuff somehow.

"So what is Xbox Live and what does it have to do with dolls?"

Oh he's keeping up plenty, he's just debating the most effective method to make his point. Sure he could go full eldritch horror but given Jane's propensity for violence, and what he assumes is a lack of particularly devout religiosity, that wouldn't have the intended effect. That only works on people who know what they're looking at.

Wings alone could be anything, halos could be illusion. The Head didn't display an understanding of magic, something that still gave them an upper hand, but that was more than he thought Hammerhead would grasp at the moment.

No, they needed a simpler method.

He rolled up a sleeve, presenting his well-tattoed arm. Now wasn't the time to ask about sigils, nor was that the point he was going to make. "Open me up. I am made of bone, tendon, and muscle just like you." Yes, he was quite serious.

“Xbox Live is online multiplayer gaming,” Jack explains, as calm as if discussing the weather. “As for what that has to do with fashion dolls?” She shrugs and gestures to Jane. “Only her addled mind knows.”

Murmur’s offer for Jane to cut him open for proof does elicit a raised eyebrow, however. “You’re really wasting your time,” she sighs. “She’s decided on her own version of the truth, and she’s not going to change her mind, no matter what you do or say.”

Hammerhead scoffs. "Xbox Live was a gamer chat full of edgelords spouting toxic shit to feel superior. Bratz are Barbie knockoffs with creepy eyes. Works for your roommate, prove me wrong." That's directed more toward Jack than Murmur.

The tattoos don't raise any alarms for Hammerhead (she's an old-school punk and has a blacked winged skull on her collarbone), but she pauses when he makes the offer, looking back at him seriously.

Her outline blurs again and her form changes. There are instant aesthetic changes in her appearance: the tattoo disappears from her collarbone, her loose hair's now pulled back in braids, and her mouth is covered with shining silver pigment.

"Yᴏᴜ sᴜʀᴇ?" Silver Tongue asks. As she speaks the words they flow from her mouth in a silvery stream and solidify into letters, the Yᴏᴜ sᴜʀᴇ? floating in the air. With a flick of her fingertips they reform like molten metal into a knife, which hovers point-first over Murmur's exposed arm.

"Perhaps, however I cannot expect her to accept an olive branch I am unwilling to offer," He responds to Jack. Might be wasting his time, he agrees, but he's got the flesh to spare if it might put some of these concerns to ease. They would be far more effective working together than against each other.

He has to try. Murmur is nothing if not persistent, and willing to put anything on the line. "Strange to use something that, I presume, is intended to foster cooperation to mistreat one another." Really, sometimes he did not understand why humans were so vicious to their own. Then again he only had to look to his own brothers for further examples. Sigh.

His tattoos could be mistaken for tribal designs, being made of a mixture of angelic writing and geometric symbols for spellwork, but Jack already gave him that talking to about cultural appropriation. He didn't need another.

He raises an eyebrow at the shift. A new face, this one. "I am certain." He wouldn't offer if he wasn't. He doesn't waver nor flinch, simply holds still for her to take what she needs out of him.

When she does she will discover that he wasn't lying, he's flesh and blood just as any human. Though the blood flows slow, and the color's just a little off... Like it's old, and hasn't been properly replenished in some time. Still definitely blood, still definitely bone. Not a lick of metal or hydraulic line to be found.

"Fine." It's a normal spoken word this time, but Silver Tongue does what she was asked to do and commands the floating knife, directing its point into the crook of Murmur's elbow. It sinks in and slices cleanly down to halfway down his arm. She nudges her hand and the knife complies, pulling the skin aside to reveal flesh and bone. It's disgusting, but it proves Murmur's point. She's satisfied that he's not a roboclone.

"What about her?"

Edited 2020-11-29 04:39 (UTC)

It's certainly gross, and a whole lot more than would be safe for most, but Murmur doesn't balk. Doesn't even flinch, one might even suspect he barely felt it for all the reaction he had. It's quite gross, definitely, but proves the point well enough.

Once she was finished he simply covered up the now open and slowly bleeding wound with his other hand, after plucking off his glove so he didn't have to deal with washing that, and held it for now. He'll work on healing that in the meantime.

"I somehow doubt Jack is going to allow any of you near her with sharp objects. May I proposition an X-ray instead?" He needs to go to the infirmary for a scan anyway, maybe Jack will join them.

Jack’s answer is simple and directed at Silvertongue: “Go fuck yourself, sweetie.”

"Nah. I'll get her later," she replies to Murmur.

Murmur just reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Why? Why will no one take his non-violent suggestions? Why does this always have to be harder than necessary? This is entirely why he just manipulates from the shadows, the direct approach is always frustrating.

"I would appreciate it if you did not assault my friend," He muttered irritably. This is going to give him a headache. After a deep breath he dropped his hand, still holding the wound closed with the other.

"Now then, I have sufficiently demonstrated that I am thoroughly organic. I have an extraction to perform before the sleep takes us again. You two can decide who is going to warn the rest about the danger."

Silver Tongue's work is completed and she retreats to the underground, leaving Jane to take over with a sigh, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, well I'd appreciate your fuckbuddy not being an ableist bitch who thinks my friends are expendable. We can't have everything we want."

Besides, if Jack wasn't going to offer any other proof or submit to an X-Ray, there really is no way to ensure she isn't a roboclone without opening her up.

"You might be. You've got no proof for her."

"Oh good, more unsubstantiated accusations. That will certainly encourage an environment sufficient for cooperation, particularly in the face of our newfound threat."

He makes a show of checking a nonexistent watch because frankly, he's done with all of this as well. He's done his part, Jane's made no real effort to be anything other than blatantly violent and hostile, there's really no reason to attempt to work with her at this juncture. Particularly for Jack who doesn't exactly have Murmur's durability to rely on as a backup.

"Do we have proof for you?" He shoots back, shaking his head. Truth was, he already knew she wasn't, it was the same reason he knew Jack wasn't. But since Jane wasn't going to even slightly give anyone the benefit of the doubt, why should they bend over backwards for her? "This has been a remarkable waste of time. Please, continue screaming at doors. I have a machine to hunt."

And with that he's going to turn and leave, this time he's not letting Jane get in his path, either. He'll just shimmer right through her should she try. The only reason she blocked him once was because he allowed it.

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dream } we’ll be watching you.

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