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Post by Deleted on Jul 28, 2014 1:17:45 GMT -6
DECLINE OF OXYTOCIN It wasn't easy being Renae. After years of testing, laboratory exercises and the like-- what seems to be her reward was being sent to an old torn-up town, filled with memories from the old society. Although it has long been said that the old downtown is nothing but an abandoned junkyard, project: rebellion always thought that it was something that could contribute to their study. They always believed it could be a potential stepping stone in achieving their ultimate goal. Just as what the saying says "One man's trash is another man's treasure". But all of it didn't matter to her, well, forced not to matter but anyway, she doesn't have any choice but to follow orders. Her first mission under Project:rebellion and the Military government was to search for biochemical materials in the downtown remains of the old empire.
But was she entirely alone?
MK001-Renae walked along the cracked asphalt of the what left from the broken roads. Her vision focused and unfocused on even the tiniest detail as she scanned the place. She found thing not too different from Aquavia at all, well if it wasn't torned apart, that is. Everything seemed dead, from the tallest establishment to the smallest wire. The divinities did make sure that none will be left alive. They could have done something else, they just wasted such something that would have lifted humanity, that according to her creators. Renae never understood though, whenever she tried to ponder her system ends up shorting.
"MK001-Renae-... Co-- in--," A broken message was sent through her radio. The cyborg distant gaze was turned to her own feet when she heard a familiar voice "Ca-.. hear--" The voice cut and blended with the strong static sounds. The radio frequency was at an extremely low level, insufficient to properly reach her at that distance. She couldn't comprehend a single word from the other line "Fi-- find-- quence-- Fre--- Fre-- quency..." After the string of broken words, everything died and nothing but the static sounds filled Renae's auditory receptors. Her blue eyes glowed a bright color, despite having poor receptions for radio frequencies and signals, the ruined downtown was rich in biochemical energy.
In the midst of silence and nothingness, Renae felt something different that made her stop her search. She stood still and silent as she cautiously monitored the whole place. But there was none, the green and red bars that respectively meant life and danger didn't even made the peak of the harmless line. A few seconds after confirming, she began walking again until she felt 'it' the second time. It was real and it was a wave of a peculiar radioactive signal not too far from where she was. She caught it with her very own satelite and she heard something not right from it.
Eventually, as she followed it, the thread-like wavelength somehow became stronger until she reached a certain powerplant. The radioactive signal was barely surviving but it served as a potential reception for a better radio frequency. Perhaps a few tweaks from the inside could boost the plant's signal into a decent amount. Certain of her theories, Renae entered and explored the powerplant, finding that a quarter of it can still function as a reception.
Upon her discovery, she began setting up on the nearest radioactive source. She connected her little friend, La boule, to the plant's system, sharing a bit of biomass energy to be able to grasp the signal out of its near death. Monitors and machine began to function and systems began to operate. Everything was of old models, even Renae's back-up has a more decent processor but it was bearable, at least it's functional. The radioactive signals and wavelengths were completely new but basing on its operating systems, the plant was harmless. Now that her frequency is up again, she needs to wait and hope that the Aquavian Base would identify this as an SOS from an ally.
But for now, what lurks within the downtown ruins?
OPEN CREATED BY POSY AT BTN
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Post by Gareth MacKay on Jul 29, 2014 22:34:57 GMT -6
He needed time to think. And so he threw himself into the crumbling remains and their sandstorm screens because he wanted to try and find a place away from the outside world. What happened at the Rose challenged Gareth’s principles. He had felt some unholy brotherhood with Aggression in the heat of battle, when the blood rushed and burned through his veins like battery acid, and he had to take stock of what had caused it. Gareth had always valued his strength. It kept him alive when he starved. It kept him alive when he was burned. It kept him alive when the world pushed him out and Jackson took him in and then still it kept him marching through the searing agony of losing control and combusting. But this strength had a price that Gareth combated through appeasement. He fed the dog scraps here and there: bar fights, boxing matches, and whatever bits of violent outbursts he could afford when the need became too strong to suppress. But Aggression was what he could become—what he would become—if he didn’t address his demons. So Gareth threw himself into the Deadsands, his adopted home.
Because there was always the matter of his recurring dreams—things whose vividness was only matched by their antiquity. There was something innately comfortable about these ruins, however alien they were at this point. Gareth wandered through with child-like appreciation of their design. He had the Old World text scribbled down on a note that he had buried deep within his pockets as a guide, and a little experience in this place to fill in the gaps. But he was deeper in these ruins than he had gone before, and probably deeper than most scavengers cared to delve, and so as much as he wanted to validate his fantasies he had to look at it pragmatically. Gareth couldn’t live on scratcher meet forever.
So Gareth kept his eyes open for both the fruits of fantastic wishes and realistic outcomes and what he found straddled that line. It looked like a girl—well, it was made to look like a girl, Gareth assumed. He was curious and cautious as he spied on her from afar, camouflaged amongst the sand and shattered walls. He followed it—silently, keeping his distance—as it moved into the ruins with some intent unknown to the mummified man. Outside of the building spying through a hole in the wall Gareth saw it resurrect the nerves of the behemoth structure. He was shocked at first—this was a dead city. It had been dead for so long. But now this thing was slowly waking it up from what should have been an eternal slumber. He instinctively grabbed his sword and it responded with a small clink of the grip and as Gareth backed up he lost his footing on a broken column and fell backward. His survival pack broke his fall but it required an audible sacrifice. Whatever he had been following would have heard him crash and scramble to get up. He looked back through the hole at the creature. Eyes contorted between curiosity and fear, he tried to focus on its reaction.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 31, 2014 7:59:10 GMT -6
DECLINE OF OXYTOCIN The soft mechanical purrs of the resurrected machine filling the dead silence have become a rather fond melody. Although standing steadily, as if a mannequin, she was actually scanning the place; familiarizing and memorizing - storing topographic information in her system.
Was everything in that place dead? From the unroofed parts of the establishment she could see the monochromatic grey sky but there were no birds, not even the corpse-eating ones.
crash. A sound that Renae didn't expect to hear. Was there someone else? How come she didn't feel its presence? Was she malfunctioning again?
The soft murmurs of the computers ceased in a snap. The silence and the soft buzzing static created a rather tensed atmosphere. She stood still for a couple more seconds before turning around, as she began loading herself with more biomass energy. Who knows what things lurk in ruins?
A man covered in cloth welcomed the cyborg's vision. The green bar in her forensic software dramatically increased, reaching the peak. He was alive-- very, very much alive. He didn't seem to move but he's wielding a blade and seem to be staring her. She began scanning him-- he wasn't at her database. A complete stranger.
As time ticks by, the cyborg decided to make the first move. Cutting the long distance, she walked in a straight path without averting her gaze from him. She stared at him one more time before her eyes glowed a bright light.
"I am MK001-Renae," Sweet mechanical voice broke the silence and static. She has no lips but words escaped her mind. "Are you a friend or a foe?" She inquired monotonously and strictly, adding weight to the growing tensed ambiance.
Gareth MacKay CREATED BY POSY AT BTN [/quote]
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Post by Gareth MacKay on Aug 1, 2014 16:07:54 GMT -6
Gareth stood up, supported by his off-hand on a pillar for support while his other still lightly hovered over the grip of his sword. It seemed robotic. This had to have been some Aquavian creation—either that or an anachronistic relic that had spontaneously come back to life here in this graveyard like a curious metal revenant. It had an artificial uneasiness about it. The air was thick with silence and dust and tension between the two as they stood facing each other in some kind of mental standoff. Could this thing even think, or was it just an automaton?
It spoke bluntly; Gareth appreciated that. Whoever had made this thing had made it efficient in speech, to say the least. “Neither. I’m Gareth, a scavenger.” He tightened his grip on his sword reflexively before letting go of his sword and slowly lowering his hand. His knees remained slightly bent and his body remained tense even though he no longer leaned on the comfort of his sword. He would avoid violence if he could, today—as strange as that notion was to Gareth. He had come into the wastes for self-reflection on his anger and needlessly fighting the creature that stood in front of him would only kindle the kinship he had with the hulking monster that had destroyed the Rose. “What are you?” he asked flatly and bluntly, more saying it as a statement than actually asking a question. He reciprocated Renae’s brusqueness.
Gareth stayed behind his barricade of sandstone rubble that came up to just below his chest as he observed Renae. From underneath her clothes he could make out a faint glow pulsing through where her stomach was—or should have been. Even though he studied her he supposed that he shouldn’t totally judge her based on appearance. How often had the same been done to him? Still, he approached the situation with a healthy dose of skepticism and a calm readiness for anything he could imagine happening here.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 1, 2014 23:40:30 GMT -6
DECLINE OF OXYTOCIN And so he spoke, that man all wrapped up with bandages or cloth. Upon detecting soundwaves, Renae immediately recorded his voice and saved it in her little database for later's analysis. She was told that the old downtown has a zero-population aside from scavengers and such, and if it intrigued Renae of his appearance, it would more likely to intrigued her masters. The cyborg tilted her head, like a normal person would if she's confused, as she looked at the man from head to toe when he kept his blade. It even confused her when he replied with an answer different from what she have asked. Neither? How could one not be an ally or a foe? Under what classification should she categorize him if he won't hurt him or if he will. Although, she saw him kept his blade, he remained his distance. It was the first time Renae met such peculiar being.
"Neither?" She asked with a hint of confusion on her voice. Perhaps it's true that she's a computer and her knowledge are most likely programmed but she's still a newborn, innocent at things outside her programmer's codes, especially that emotions wasn't a major priority during her creation, or should it be, her recreation "Your response is invalid, Gareth." The blue-eyed stated. She needed a clear and specific answer for further reference. What if that person is a danger to Aquavia? If he doesn't respond then Renae would have to consider him as threat and would have to fight, though she would like to avoid unnecessary troubles. She was at the site merely to investigate on the any biotic factors that had survived the great fall.
Following his vague response is an inquiry asked in a hostile manner, the cyborg straightened her head, scanning him again. No, she didn't detect any signs that he's preparing for an attack, meaning that he wasn't a danger to her, perhaps at that moment. The red bar on the side of her vision was low and it remained still. Humans are peculiar being anyway, Renae never understood them "I am MK001-Renae, an advanced military weapon." It's right to give answers, he did tell him what he was on the first place. But she knew she has to be careful, she's not yet sure about him.
Gareth MacKay CREATED BY POSY AT BTN
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Post by Gareth MacKay on Aug 3, 2014 22:27:42 GMT -6
This cyborg was not very subtle, either. He followed its gaze as it looked him over, trying to scan him for something or other he supposed. It was an artificial construct—a totem to an almost theological view on science. “Neither. Because I don’t know you—“ Gareth responded with his voiced laced with frustration. The creation seemed incapable of understanding more than a binary system of being, and he supposed that whoever had made it didn’t need it to understand the complexities of life. Just follow orders. “And I don’t know what you want. Don’t tell me it’s invalid. That’s my answer.”
It was like a middle school dance. Gareth kept his distance from the only other female in that broken room as the winds blew a nostalgic rhapsody about a fallen empire and wrathful gods. She said she was a weapon. He flinched. His right hand moved up toward his sword and his left gripped the handle of the knife at his waist. “Then what the hell are you doing here, ‘advanced military weapon’?” Why would some advanced military weapon be out here, salvaging Old World scrap instead of actually protecting Aquavia? They could get any two-bit vulture like Gareth to do salvage—gods knew that there were enough that circled around the Deadsands in any given country.
His threatening reflexes were just that—reflexes. He would reciprocate any definitively threatening action with unbridled aggression, but he could not find it in him to blindly attack this thing. “And what did you do to this place just then?” He couldn’t resist asking—equal parts curiosity and estimation—and knowing what she did would give him a better inkling as to what she could do. The sun was beating down hard on them. A spotlight to their showdown.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 7, 2014 5:22:43 GMT -6
DECLINE OF OXYTOCIN Wasn't he asking too many questions? Renae only asked for one but she received a rather impolite and vague answer. She detected a small amount of increase in his energy levels as he did a stance that suggests threat to the cyborg. As much as possible, she wanted to avoid fight but should he make an action suggesting violence then Renae wouldn't hesitate to fight back. She was very stimulated by the thought as she began to accumulate more and more biomass energy that it has become appearant-- Lightning-like threads began to surround her metallic body, sparking lightly as they interacted with one another.
"...nae--" A faded voice emerged from the buzzing static from the computers, cutting the cyborg's biomass excitation. It snapped her from her thoughts, bringing her focus back to Gareth. For a little more while she stared at him before turning her back on him. No, even how much tempting it was to spar, she would abstain-- well, for now. "As for your first statement, my logic is limited to simple things as of now so your complicated answer might short-out my circuits," A voice of a robot could never sound any better than Renae, sweet and smooth just like a human's "If you pose no threat to my nation then I do not have any reasons to fight against you, so do not waste your energy defending yourself. I am most likely not to fight, unless you start one." Blunt and straight to the point, she didn't like long runs and long cuts, she wants it quick and direct so things would be less complicated and more agreeable.
The dirt-covered keyboard was quite noisy, making loud distracting sounds every time she presses a button. It was quite unpleasant to the ears "As for your first question, I wouldn't be able to give you a response," Her eyes were glue on the flickering monitor, it displayed complicated block of texts-- codes that were like fairy tale to the cyborg "That is a classified information." Her objective was really simple but she was told never to spill any information even if it costs her life. She must discretely carry out her mission, it has always been rule number 1.
Little beeping noises began to emerge from the buzzing white noise while the codes were replaced by texts and numerical that actually made more sense than the previous. Little by little, the parts of the computer began to move more lively than earlier and the static was replaced by mechanical sounds-- The whole thing was glowing brightly with a light blue color similar to Renae's power source. It was finally alive, moving as it was back in its youth "As for your last question," Slowly, the robot turned back around to Gareth "I have attempted to revive the power plant and it seems like I have succeeded in doing so--" She paused, however, in the middle of her statement "Worry not though, Gareth. I have lowered the wavelength's radiation by absorbing them instead. But you might feel your body becoming numb. It's limited to that, rest assure your life will not be harmed." Gareth MacKay CREATED BY POSY AT BTN
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Post by Gareth MacKay on Aug 10, 2014 21:48:11 GMT -6
Gareth heard the broken fragment of a word. Her name? “Classified information my ass. You’re gonna drag every Forsaken for miles with all this noise. It’s gonna get me killed,” Gareth eloquently retorted. The noise had drawn him and the noise would draw more violent things than Gareth here. And radiation? What the hell was that? He knew that the Empire had some advanced technology as well as magic, but to someone as ignorant as Gareth the two were almost indistinguishable. He twitched his nose. He expected to feel the bandages but he could not feel much of anything. Gareth had his wits about him—he was a little light-headed, but it was nothing that he wouldn’t attribute to the desert heat. He moved his offhand up to his face and pressed down on his nose again for confirmation. His arm moved slower. The nerve impulses moved through molasses. His eyes widened and then furrowed again. Some old world tech was better off decaying in the sands. Left to time and its worms.
“Turn off this thing or I will.” A bluff. He had no clue how to bury this revenant other than smashing the monitor that consumed Renae. He drew his sword. He placed both hands on it and stood in silence for a moment as he stared into Renae’s eyes—or whatever blue rocks had been set into her occipital lobes like sapphires in a ring. The wind kicked up and pushed Gareth’s cape east. The wind carried with it a howl and then two and then a third in response. They continued in stereo and sounded cacophonous and Gareth turned his head the direction of the wind. They would not be alone for long. “Turn this damn thing off, now.” His voice carried urgency. He moved closer to Renae, sliding through the rubble and finding secure footing once more on the reactor’s sand carpeted stone. He moved his sword upwards toward his right ear and parallel to his body. This robot disturbed a delicate balance. The Empire’s carcass held more than a few maggots eager for a bite of fresh flesh. He didn’t know if the Forsaken could actually consume metal, but he knew that they could digest flesh quite easily. He wasn’t fond of being eaten.
He felt adrenaline start pumping through his veins. His heart increased its beat to account for increased volume. He did not want to fight. He wanted to fight in his hands and his arms and his body but his heart and head did not want to fight. He knew that he would if it he had to, though. He wouldn’t die from sentiment.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2014 21:35:18 GMT -6
DECLINE OF OXYTOCIN The red bar began to rise, increasing dramatically after the man has pulled his blades out and pointing it towards her. If Renae knew how to laugh, to express comical relief, then she would. Forsaken? He meant those things that died along the old society? For years the empire has remained fallen and nothing from it was alive save for lower forms of animals and some radioactive signals. The cyborg could have shaken away the human's impoliteness and his solid aggression, and carry on to her little exploration but she couldn't let him destroy the power plant machine-- its the only thing that can provide and manage a decent frequency for communication. And she knew she's almost there.
Her light blue eyes glowed even bright along with the biomass ball on her fragmented torso. Strands of electricity danced along the surface of her metallic body as she began to accumulate more and more biomass energy. "I believe I can't do that," Her voice was a combination of innocence and guilt; it sounded much darker than how it should be. The eased ambiance has once again felt heavy as Renae attempted to pierce the man's will with her icy stare "If you are frightened by what you call the Forsaken rushing to us then I would have to suggest you to step aside." Those things don't scare Renae at all. Nothing does, actually. What can those ancient monsters do anyway when she, herself, is the modification of superhumans. She's what everybody will sooner turn into a few decades from now. So what's there to fear of?
As Renae was about to continue, she was abruptly disturb by the sudden change of the plant's frequency sound waves. It altered to something, what Renae could call, violently. The static has began to get louder, as if a broken scream of something she never heard before. Everything was foreign so a quick scan wouldn't do, there's only little data stored in the cyborg's system. She couldn't tell if she has to do something-- The power plant's normalcy wasn't normal to begin with so she has no preference. Rushing to the machine, Renane quickly pulled and pushed things but the violent sound didn't cease. "MK001-Renae to Aquavian Base 1, this is an SOS from the Fallen Empire. Do you copy?" There was no response from the other line.
Gareth Mackay CREATED BY POSY AT BTN
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Post by Gareth MacKay on Aug 24, 2014 21:39:40 GMT -6
This thing had gall to suggest that it would be able to take on a whole group of those things. They always traveled in packs. Those that were cast out and ostracized by their pack were frequently cannibalized by another group of them, or ended up as another starved carcass rotting away in the sand and sun. Such was their miserable existence. Gareth hardly supposed he could judge their social and environmental position based on such factors such as their facultative cannibalism for two reasons: they were many and they were usually always hungry. “Are you stupid?” he incredulously responded. His will would not be broken. Not by Aggression and his puppet strings and certainly not by the soulless stare of the apparatus in front of him.
Fear was a healthy reflex that had been matter-of-factly nurtured during his tenure here on Earth, and as he slowly lowered his sword he remembered that and held it back up again. His fingers felt a bit numb and that made him uneasy. Renae moved back to the archaic control panel and began doing things to it—that was all Gareth could understand about its inner workings. He could feel himself beginning to panic but he inhaled and tried to push the panic aside. “It sounds like everything is going great,” he quipped lowly as his eyes began looking around the ruins. Gareth concerned himself with the whispers on the wind that carried with them the low growls and foul stench of hungry predators. This thing was stupid and careless but it was ignorant and Gareth supposed that he couldn’t let Renae die because of that. He spoke calmly, “We’ve got to go. You’re going to die for some giant piece of scrap if we don’t get out of here. Last chance. Before anything gets too close for us to shake off.” He tightened his grip against the grip of his sword but no longer held it with violent intention against Renae’s objective. It stood with him like a fellow sentry in the ruins, watching for the abominations that still wandered through their stone.
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