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TDM 005: HAPPY SPOOKTEMBER
| TDM 005: HAPPY SPOOKTEMBER |
Arrival  This time, you come out of the water, the Nameless Island's own inherent energy drawing people in. It's like being suspended between realities and abruptly pushed from behind through a rift in dimensions. It may make you sick, or that might be the motion of the ocean, lifting you to the surface and carrying you to shore. Waterlogged and covered in sand, new arrivals will be greeted by robots who welcome them with towels and bracelet devices. The A5 card is already loaded up. Feel free to explore the Island, though there isn’t much to see. Most of the buildings are abandoned and in dire need of repair, and beyond the city lingers a thick fog that obscures much of the wilderness from view. Wander too far into this fog, and you will find yourself mysteriously looping back to where you began, your memories of what you were doing and how you got there erased. With that in mind, it may be wise to stake your claim on a rundown apartment, a tent on the beach, or a bed in the "comfortable" new barracks. Your inventory will be found a day later, wrapped up haphazardly and delivered to each person's makeshift home. I. Harvest Hunt  As the daylight grows shorter and the muggy heat of the island’s summer gradually shifts to temperate days and chilly nights, Erku’s accessible wilderness explodes with a colorful collection of tempting fruits, fragrant-smelling herbs, and nuts and seeds plumped and ready for harvest. With warnings to beware of monsters, the robots of Erku encourage Islanders to take advantage of the land’s bounty by distributing basic camping supplies to those who are interested in exploring, hunting, and harvesting. They strongly encourage making the journey with a friend! Any surplus foods that Islanders bring home with them can be exchanged for credits with cafeteria robots! Just be careful out there - some of these fruits have strange effects once consumed. For extra protection out there in the wilds, the robots have fashioned crowns of flowers or foliage to wear on their adventures. The sweet and herbal smells from the crowns will discourage most Erku-native monsters from approaching, they assure - this is ancient knowledge from the planet’s long-gone civilization, so it can’t be wrong! What the robots don’t know is that the crowns have a deeper, more ritualistic purpose: after a few hours, the scent of flowers or herbs begins to awaken primal instincts within the wearer. Those who are wearing the foliage crowns feel overwhelmed by an urge to hunt, while those who wear the flower crowns delight in every opportunity to tease, outrun, and outwit the hunters. What happens when the chase ends? Well, that depends on the personalities and the chemistry between the hunters and their prey. While the robots are very insistent on placing crowns atop the heads of any Islander they see, they aren’t stuck on in any way and they are easy to remove, which can prevent or break the hunting trance. II. seeds and sap  Of particularly high credit value, the robots explain, is an elusive flower known as the skull sunflower. It appears exactly as one might imagine: at the center of an otherwise innocuous, towering sunflower is the gruesome visage of an open-mouthed skull. Don’t worry, the flowers are harmless! Even if it’s strange how the empty-socketed eyes seem to follow your every move. And why is it that the teeth - which, on closer inspection, are actually the seeds of the flower - only seem to chatter when your back is turned? Any Islander who can withstand their heebie-jeebies long enough to collect the petals and seeds from the flowers will fetch a handsome reward in credits upon exchange with the robots. Beware the sticky, blood-red sap that seeps from the eyes of each skull, however. Those who absorb too much through their skin will begin to hallucinate, visions of frightening or emotional events from their past dancing in the shadows. One might even mistakenly imagine that another Islander is someone they recognize from their past, someone who meant something to them - no matter whether that person is alive or dead in the present. The hallucinogenic effects of the sap can last for hours, or they can be shortened by a dip in the public baths. III. Tarot  Night comes, and in the darkness, a robot sets up a table by the beach. A solitary candle sits in the center, illuminating a deck of cards. F̶i̴n̵d̸ ̸y̶o̸u̸r̵ ̵f̵o̸r̷t̵u̶n̶e̷?̴ The robot reveals tarot cards and will do a variety of spreads to tell your fortune. Each fortune can be distilled into one central theme, which characters will find pervades their life for the next 24 hours. There is magic afoot: it can be sensed, and perhaps even dispelled, if luck is on your side. Though most robots on the island show a capacity for greater-than-average artificial intelligence, this pseudo-psychic 'bot -- M.S. Cl30 -- is less advanced. It only has six interpretations prepared:
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[ angelo .... looks like he's about to add something, but doesn't. you made a speech, he wants to say, back when you were known as the supreme leader of neo zeon. but this char did not want to know too many things about the future. if it were a matter of fathers and relations as such, then certainly, he can understand it to be a memory unwanted.
it occurs to angelo that there really is very little recorded when it comes to the truth of char aznable's life. a man who knows when to be comfortable and when not to, especially only on his terms, such a man knows what to reveal and what not to reveal. it won't be the first time he questions what information they have over char aznable, of course, but really, angelo is only interested on behalf of his captain. ]
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Zeon abandoned his family and went mad with his desire to convince the masses of his so-called Newtype theory.
[Fold, unfold, fold, unfold, fold...]
I watched him lose his hold on reality. To be honest, I wouldn't wish it upon the worst Zabi. His mind evaporated into tiny little pieces and even if they hadn't taken him out, he would've killed himself anyway. His wife couldn't save him, nor his daughter, not even his son. Nothing in the world could sway him.
[You couldn't hold me, not even once. Not even your own son, not even in a dream.]
He was waiting on the shore. I saw him and I thought I was dead, meeting him down there in hell.
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[ and he does mean it, even if he recognizes that he's rather ill-equipped to deal with char aznable's sorrows. perhaps it's not meant for one person, anyway.
however -- ]
.... Do you not believe in Newtypes? [ "so-called"? his memory where the newtype theory is concerned is blurry, but surely there was some interest already back in his time? stories about char being a newtype are rife in the records, after all. ]
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[So yes and no. Char doesn't deny that belief, not exactly, but...]
Just like the nukes of the twentieth century... countries will squabble over us, mass produce us, and then discard us, all at their own discretion.
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and from hereon now, when angelo speaks, all of his talking points sound like words that were borrowed from someone else greater than he is. a ghost, talking to a man, adding to the number of things that will haunt the red comet. ] However .... the will of the collective is to become more than just weapons. To have an existence that is more than just existing, or a constant cycle of war. Autonomy that isn't just conditional.
[ he doesn't know how much should he say. char probably knows, by now, that he is not a strategic mind or a political one. full frontal kept him as a blade in the hand, his attack dog, the demon that protects the red comet, but there are better, more capable soldiers than angelo. and of course it didn't occur to angelo that the reasons might be sentimental, so far removed is his captain from what seems to be human.
angelo is reminded of a mask in his desk, carefully hidden. so he will remind him, or let him know, what the red comet is for, whether he likes it or not, whether he wishes to accept it or reject it. ]
All spacenoids want the right to self-governance, but the Federation will never grant us that. The Captain spoke at length of his eventual goal: economically, to freeze out the Earth from space and let it become completely uninhabitable for humans until they have no other choice but to abandon it. Once the Federation government collapses, the Republic of Zeon will be the only government remaining.
For all of space to agree on this, you need a symbol, a cause for everyone to unite behind on. And power. An immense amount of it. [ and he doesn't need to elaborate on that symbol, probably. and where power comes from. ] Newtypes are but one facet of this war.
[ so far removed from the ideals of zeon, and for whatever passes as the ideals of char aznable. this, he did not mention to garma, because he highly doubts garma zabi has envisioned something like this in his lifetime, even as a zabi. angelo speaks with the fervent zealotry of someone who is devoted to his own captain: ] Humans are too weak and too repulsive to be relied on for the future, hence the Captain moving on towards the future. Taking on the challenge no matter how difficult it is. In time, everyone will realize that this is the only way to move forward.
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[Probably a disappointing remark, but it was the pure and honest truth. From the mouth of a man who would someday become an even bigger legend.]
And I don't want to be anything or anyone but the man that bests Amuro Ray. At least for now, that's all that matters to me.
[His father was dead. His dreams were dead too. And his own mind had been lost, just as long ago, by his seventh birthday. He was not loved and would never be. Lalah was a tool, a means to an end, a rescued runaway. All he felt was rage. All he could think about was besting Amuro and beating the Gundam and tearing down Zeon in the waning days of the war.
He doesn't care about the collective will. He doesn't care about this illustrious Captain. He doesn't care about Angelo, beyond his usefulness. He has lost his mind and lost his capacity as a human being. It's hard to act with so few cards left to play. But maybe that was exactly what he wanted, and at least he could pretend. At least for now, that's all that matters.
As he has done all his life, Char looks away from his responsibilities and stares at the peeling paint on the wall.]
Federation or Zeon, Newtype or Oldtype... we're all consigned to the same exact fate.
[Extinction.]
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How childish!
[ "the man that bests Amuro Ray". well. not to be an asshole, but he will not, and there is a reason that gundams progress as much as they do after the war. the man was a trigger whether he likes it or not, and while the red comet held himself admirably against him -- angelo knew his history well enough, as to what came after that.
but the idea that char could be somebody else, not wanting to lead anyone -- there is a future waiting for them. angelo will not have it; this is not the kind of resolve he was expecting from char aznable. but at the same time .... he doesn't have to do anything. he doesn't have to stop char aznable, because char aznable does what he wants and they were only there to follow him, to whichever grave the red comet will lead them to. palau. dakar. or out in the edges of space. he doesn't know now, but he will, inevitably. eventually.
how ridiculously misguided everyone had been when they claimed that they remembered char best. the only people who knew him are dead. therefore, it stands to reason that whatever his captain say should've been authoritative. but everyone clung to char aznable like hope, insidious and poisonous to the most desperate of minds, when he himself, right here, is saying that he doesn't want anything else other than to beat amuro ray. that he knows only extinction awaits him.
spitefully, angelo thinks to himself, soon you will wish you were granted that favour. ]
You sound like a gambler. Profiting off the war for your own selfish, emotional reasons, only that you are the Red Comet and therefore thinks you can make do with a losing hand by yourself. [ angelo scoffs as he repeats to him -- ] "I only want to beat a Gundam." Certainly that's a noble goal. But there is a future in which you will be a part of, already are, whether you like it or not, Char Aznable.
And the more you seek power, the more it becomes inevitable. You cannot avoid who you are. Years and years later .... you still have that same streak in you. [ this is more personal, than anything else, but angelo is thinking of the unicorn, fighting the sinanju, and the tone of his captain's voice when he saw the unicorn, once more: ah. we meet again. like an old friend, the worst kind of enemy, and angelo resents it. ]
But I suppose it's nice to be hopeful. [ a snake, angelo smiles at him in an ugly manner, taught to him by someone who also doesn't care beyond the will that occupies a vessel painted in red. taunting char to hold on to such ideals, to see how long can char hold onto them like they were the only childhood he ever knew. angelo was no strategist, certainly, but the captain who held him was beyond humanity. ] Here, at least, you have truly become no-one, not leading anything or anyone.
[ and hey, that's a goal achieved, right? box ticked. roll snare, curtain call. it's good that he renounced the rank of captain to him. angelo feels, more and more, that he does not deserve it. ]
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[Congratulations, Angelo, you have his attention. He didn't mind being called out as a coward; he didn't mind suffering through another speech, cradled in the bosom of Zeon. But he did mind imposition, presumption, and someone attempting to assert themselves as an authority figure. Because he may not want to lead anyone or be anything, but one thing he was not...]
Because to me, that just sounds like slavery.
[...was a slave.]
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To be given a reason to exist? To know your purpose? To toil towards a future and a will? That is not slavery. That is devotion. Do you know how that feels? Or have you completely lost it in your Zaku, or to the Zabis?
More than that, can you genuinely say that you are free of this Gundam? That anytime you choose to, you can walk away from this fight? [ good. if he has his attention, angelo will court it with the arrogance of a beast. he tucks a curl behind his ear and leans back against the rather flat pillows of his bed, lazily, regarding him with such indifference. ] You think too highly of yourself for someone who will never know freedom, not unless you are in a mobile suit and fighting.
[ angelo smiles serenely, the only reason that he is able to being that he is not entirely looking at char. not at all. ] You may think whatever you think it is that you want. I will be here, Captain. I will take care of you, as always, once you realize where your search for freedom will take you. I will wait.
[ angelo has always belonged to the ghost of char, the second coming of the red comet, the king of the dispossessed. char doesn't know it yet, but he will. this snake is here to coil around him, to remind him of his bad traits and habits, to encourage them and make them even worse. and perhaps, the most tragic of them all: that angelo accepts all of those faults, forgives them, loves them besides. the most terrible lalah nobody asked for. and yet. ]
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What was even the point of this argument? Did Angelo really and truly believe that Char Aznable, a man he had just met for the first time, was going to heed a goddamn thing he said? He couldn't possibly be that stupid. He couldn't possibly be so naive, thinking that a boy who grew up under the greatest mind of their time wouldn't be able to see right through that rhetoric.
It makes him mad. Worse than that, it forces him to confront his own feelings. Char whips around like a cornered cat and in one swift move, pins Angelo the same pillows he was lounging upon. Try being indifferent, facing down the Red Comet at point blank range. And for all those fluent words, Char offers just one, accompanied by the unmistakable pressure of a Newtype.]
Don't.
[At least there was no one around to look. No one but dead men and shackled slaves.]
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If you want me to stop then command me, Char Aznable. Don't deny yourself.
[ full frontal understood that had he not been worth his admiration he would've killed him for it. angelo was not going to follow one who hesitates over destiny with such cowardice. only one who has forsaken themselves for a future indifferent to their existence -- and that rage. that rage, that even his captain heeds, listens to, most intently. that rage, which is more like a prayer than anything else.
how beautiful he is. ]
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Are you doing this on purpose?
[Talk about courting death. Or touching fire, which amounted to the same thing and the same stupidity. That just manages to trigger a fresh bout of irritation; he didn't like being treated like a slave and he also didn't like being played for a fool. When you were accustomed to having the upper hand, getting the tables turned... well, it was an undeniably unpleasant experience.
Char narrows those murderous eyes. Beautiful like a tiger, just prior to the pounce.]
You really want me to pull rank? Here and now, just because you begged for it?
[Why, yes. That was an accusation.]
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[ there are benefits to having his attention, angelo decides. one is that he gets to see the side of him that most people don't have a claim to, which is interesting. the other is that char is doing a good job of separating himself from his captain.
which, fine by angelo, but he supposes if he can help steer him to somewhere where he needs him to be in order for full frontal to be a reality, well. so much the better.
he decides he likes this char. a man could really learn to like such a dangerous beast. ]
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[Not an attempt to pull rank, then, just a means of making himself quite clear. He wasn't mad enough to attack on a whim but could and would lash out at anything and anyone that wanted to threaten his aims. Be it a Zabi, a Gundam, or some other opponent, Char Aznable was a hunter through and through. And telling him how to hunt was a great way to get eaten.
Char eases off, though only slightly. And only warily.]
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[ the smile that he gives him isn't quite genuine but it is rather pleased. like he was a starving beast and he was given, ever so slightly, blood to liven up the spirits and remind him of what he is. it doesn't do to be so complacent, after all. it freezes in the bottom of the pit and renders a soul heavy like lead.
at least char has an idea of what angelo is. not a schemer, or a leader of men, but worse still. and here he was, momentarily sated by that flash of violence, handing him his proverbial leash obediently and watching him keenly, to see what he'll do with it. ]
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All the hot air goes out of him at once, like a lead balloon, which has Char flopping onto his side with a heavy sigh. Somewhere along the way, his boots just sort of slide off and he just shuts his eyes and does his damnedest to envision himself at home and at the controls and ready to fire on the fiercest foe he has ever faced in the cold, unforgiving depths of space.
Though right now, that foe felt a lot like impending exhaustion.]
Can I order you to suffocate me with a pillow? Put me out of my misery?
[Damn, Char. That was dark.]
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[ it's too soon, anyway.
and true to his word, as angelo said, he does take care of him. he'll give him the pillow, he'll help pull off his coat if he'll let him so he can be more comfortable, otherwise he'll leave him alone. he fixes his boots on the side, setting them neatly on the corner for later. ] In any case, you are notoriously difficult to kill.
[ he doubts a pillow would be enough. ] Maybe one of the Gundam pilots would be nice enough to step on you, if you asked nicely.
[ hah. ]
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Need a lot more scotch for that.
[Well, he didn't deny it... god, what to do with this man, though? A fussy manservant who would mouth off at a moment's notice.]
But since I don't trust you with idle hands, I'll give you an assignment. I guess.
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[ he gave such vibes. his captain wouldn't drink, probably just for appearances since full frontal doesn't really have much of a use for such things, but maybe this isn't surprising for char aznable. anyway, scotch, angelo puts down in his mental to-do list for char aznable, which is increasingly becoming very complicated. angelo hangs up his jacket, dismayed at the lack of amenities in the barracks that would prevent it from getting even more wrinkly, but hung to dry, at least he'll be able to wear it again later on. ]
Let's hear this assignment of yours.
[ angelo sits on the edge of the bed, crossing his legs as he looks down at him, no younger or older than he is, flopped on the bed. like this, he could've just been any other soldier. probably wishes that he was, and angelo gets a kick out of knowing that he won't be. because he can't. ]
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[...the lack of specificity may have been the most disturbing part.
Right, an assignment. Something he was totally, absolutely, definitely not devising on the fly so Angelo didn't blow up half of the planet while he was asleep. Which he might do anyway, he's admittedly a little unnerved now, but he really did seem the sort to fare poorly without a particular angle. Which he could empathize, because he was exactly the same way.]
I'm pretty good, but even I can't take out multiple Gundams at once. I need a better assessment of what we're dealing with.
[The best of both worlds, truly: play on Angelo's apparent hatred for Gundams and get him out and about.]
Prepare a report. And make your case for which one will die first.
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[ anyway. for that assignment. ]
In terms of Gundams? In terms of ourselves?
I can guarantee you that it'll be you, in that Gelgoog, as the flashiest distraction we have; unless you borrow Garma Zabi's Dopp Fighter first, in which case I'll give us twenty four hours to spare, on top of our D-Day.
The Rozen Zulu can take out one or two but it will be severely under-utilized in this battle considering the type of Gundam it was originally set up for.
Aren't you known for your charms and affairs? You and Garma Zabi can make your way to several A5s and incapacitate them emotionally too. [ slut. ]
Anyway. I am taking this seriously. It is an ongoing analysis considering the Augur's predilection for Gundam pilots. It will be done. [ a pause. ] Know that I'm scheduling it in between other things, however. I won't let you be idle here.
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[Stupid sassy lieutenant and his stupid sassy questions, what kind of inhuman construct could ever placate this petty creature? At least he agreed to it, so that would save him some aggravation, but... hold on, emotional incapacitation? Alternative scheduling? How did he turn that around on me?!]
I'm... I'm not some slutty secret agent! It doesn't even work that way!
[Oh, no. He can already feel himself halfway to harangued.]
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[ angelo rummages through his drawers, trying to see if the augur had seen fit to give him something else. of course it hasn't, so angelo takes out a comb from his jacket, and starts attacking his matted hair. at least he's gentle with it? anyway -- ]
The rumour is that you have as many affairs as you have kill counts in battle. I am merely suggesting you utilize your skills.
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[Okay, never mind, he's doing it. This was happening, this was his life now. He was getting groomed like an irate cub with its doting mother. So caught off by it, Char doesn't even think to resist or protest further, just staring wide-eyed at Angelo. And trying and failing to defend his own habits.]
Look, I have a certain effect on women. It's not my fault.
[It's absolutely your fault, Char.]
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[ angelo does a good job sweeping his hair back and making him look less of a madman. he might even pass as handsome, now. he looks pleased with this development. ]
I'm glad my Captain doesn't have anything for the press to revel at.
[ then again, as far as public figures go, full frontal is rather boring. it's not a detriment to himself, angelo thinks. boring is safe. ]
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