ercookies | TDM 001

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TDM 001

TDM 001: TFLU

( 1 ) After leaving the teleportation chamber, you are gently coaxed out of the hospital and encouraged to find a place to stay. Maybe you've had time to check out your A5 app. Maybe you're just settling in. It's cloudy, overcast, cold -- you'll want to seek out someplace warm.

Also, your device is beeping. A lot. The tech on the island works, it just doesn't work right. You can't seem to send a message to the correct person.

It's time for...

Texts From Last Universe

( 2 ) What's this? Your bingo card has just been beamed to a stranger's inbox...?!
( sample A5 cards -- NSFW, may contain triggering content, please feel free to use/ignore as you see fit)

( 3 ) And now you're receiving messages from other users that they don't remember sending:

Nice shirt. It would look better on my floor.

10/10 would ride it into the sunset.

This user thinks you're attractive.

u up?

🍆

( 4 ) Once you figure out that the robots have been hacking your devices, it's no easy feat to track one down and demand they stop. "So The Augur wills!" they wail in a monotone. "So it is done!"

Any attempt to actually contact The Augur and get back into the hospital will be met with beefy robot bodyguards, who suggest taking a gentler approach to fix your devices.

If you know what they mean.

Wink.

(This is your overt kink prompt. Please label any threads accordingly.)

Note: All prompts are optional. The theme for this TDM is "malfunctioning devices." They can be fixed by indulging in the squares on your cards. For the sake of the TDM, you can use one of the pre-generated examples or a wildcard from the kink list. This can be used as a free bingo square completion once you have been accepted into the game. Players are welcome to wildcard their own TDM prompts; we only ask that you try to stick to the theme.

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N A V I G A T I O N

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[It was. Char took note of that too, though he was wise enough to abstain from comment.

By the time he perches on the edge of that fountain, they've got their own gaggle of fans, trailing behind. With Char's legendary charisma on full display, he just laughs and tells them to wait, his hands can only go fast. A knife was deadly in those hands, but here it's only employed as makeshift can opener. Nonetheless, a trained soldier like Angelo could spot it with ease: his fingers move with a bit too much finesse to be called human, and his eyes are a little too sharp, following each repetitive circle.

He yields an opened can to every group that approaches. He's doing his good deed, but he's also noting the kinds of people they encounter, who they are and where they live.]

I'll keep one for you. Unless you already ate.

[Charismatic, as well as gracious, forgoing anything for himself.]

You were busier than I am. Go and have your fill.

[ he did notice it. he wonders if there is a force out there that draws people like them together, because it seems to be happening again.

angelo sits by him later on, crossing his legs as he watches the crowd milling about. he noticed more than char’s hands and the way his eyes followed people, his mind a steel trap for information: angelo watches the way people talk to char, as always, the way they crowd him, their distance. their body language. keenly overprotective as he would’ve been if he were with his captain.

though one can argue angelo deferring food to char is just another way of minding his rank, and maybe yielding, a little bit, that he was worthy of it. ]

[By his lonesome, he might've discouraged so much contact. But he's in the company of someone who could stand to learn the value of generosity, and why dirtying one's hands was sometimes necessary to earn favor. Even if Angelo might've thrown a near fit in that alleyway, he was clearly relaxed enough now and certainly not regretting the choice to help so many.

The crowd eventually thins, and while it's true they haven't solved hunger on every street corner, they've put smiles on quite a few faces. Good deed successfully dispensed.]

Ah. Scotch would really go down great, right about now.

[He sighs, leans back. Momentarily winded, but that won't last long. It's Char, he runs on nonstop energy.]

What about you, Angelo? You ever crack open a cask of wine with your captain?

[ wine. angelo rolls his eyes, like char still doesn’t understand. ] I pour him his scotch, Char. I take care of him. If the moment allows for it, we certainly enjoy each other’s company.

[ he misses the office, right now. even if it’s not something that full frontal himself had in mind for design, it was beautiful, it had room for flowers, he can serve him his tea properly there. and his scotch. whatever he needs. he’d never admit it but it’s comforting. and he was always there to stand with him, beside him, following him. at his rightful place.

without him, he feels the loss of control keenly. char, at least, is calmer than he is, and while he’s not the one he needs, he’s the one he’s stuck with. he’ll have to make do. ]

In any case, I don’t know if we’ll find that here. Let alone a good bottle of one. [ maybe it needs another handholding? good lord. ]

But I'm asking what you like.

[Captain this, captain that. Didn't this poor boy have any identity beyond his obsessive attachment to his supposed counterpart? Every other breath was dedicated to him, and it's beyond bothersome. It's concerning. Sure, he might have a familiar face, a familiar voice, but how would he survive beyond that purpose? Beyond that place?

Char scoots a little closer, because it's already been established he'll invade personal space at his leisure, and presses the subject.]

If you could conjure up anything, what would it be?

[Zero points awarded for Captain-related answers, Angelo.]

[ why does he even want to know? they’ve already established that he’s not the one he needs.

but he feels cornered. cornered in a way that doesn’t want to make him lash out. cornered in a way that someone is being awfully familiar, wanting to get to know him. it’s been a long time since he’s had to deal with that. there wasn’t much time to breathe back home, after all. at least the closeness doesn’t make him bear his fangs to him. just another uncomfortable thing that char likes doing.

so he does give it some time to think over, not because he can’t think of anything, but mostly because he can’t figure out what he really wants to give up to char. this char.

something harmless, probably. ]

.... Earl Grey cream tea. Black. Steeped two and a half minutes at 200 degrees.

Alright. Sounds doable.

[Sounds doable, he says, to a ridiculously specific request. But that's just the sort of man Char Aznable was: if he decided on a course of action, then he'd pursue it at the expense of his own life. Dogged, determined, and downright stubborn, he would only give up at the very end of the world itself.

So when he makes his promise to Angelo, he has every intention of keeping it. He might be a liar, but he won't lie about this.]

I'll get you some tea, and... you can get me some scotch. Then we'll have one big party to celebrate.

[Well, maybe he couldn't promise a party. But hey, it's always a party when Char's invited. Even Angelo should know that.]

[ he looks genuinely surprised at that. they’ve just met. angelo was counting on this interaction to wane off after a while, but char seems determined to keep it going. then again, it’s not like he’s got anything to do around this time. he can’t make the excuse that he’s busy. char isn’t arranging it like he’s fully expecting something in return, the kind of transactions his captain makes with other people. it seems like he’s doing it because he wants to, which angelo can’t decide yet if it’s flattering or concerning, considering who’s on the receiving end of that attention.

any other time, he would’ve welcomed it. right now it’s .... confusing, but not entirely in a bad way.

that seems to be his experience with this awful char. bad, but not quite. confusing, but not entirely. familiar, but not by a lot. commanding, but not in that overwhelming way full frontal can be. neither good nor bad, just a quiet force of nature by himself, like a rumbling storm in the summer. anything that grows thrives in that strength. ]

Well, I don’t find it disagreeable.

[ that’s as close as he’ll say that he likes it, but good lord, when did he agree? he wasn’t even consulted. ] And just where do you plan to have this party?

[More shrugging. He seems to do that a lot, as if always to say well, I'll figure it out. And to his credit, he always did.]

I'm the man that makes the impossible possible, so they say. Shouldn't be too hard, although I'll just ask you give me time.

[One can left, untouched. Char picks it up, wonders how many more they could've fed if they shook down every robot in town. Angelo was full of so much anger, he doesn't doubt he could kick in a whole building if he wished. But he's so quiet now. So soft. Agreeable, even as he continued to disagree, continued to question. As surely he had never done of his captain.

What purpose did he have? Maybe there was some, in coming to accept the wrong Char.]

I'm the Red Comet. I'll find a way.

[ the red comet, he says. angelo clicks his tongue but otherwise doesn’t bite. the little beast is sated, for now, from that display of goodwill, from that earlier display of violence. he feels relatively calm, even if his emotions were still stretched thin — from being here, from being alone, from meeting this char.

in his mind, angelo conducts a post-mortem of their interactions and decides that he needs to yield. since he takes his role seriously, he’s always hard on himself, and upon tallying his deeds for today, it seemed that it wouldn’t earn a good favour from his captain if he ran it through a review. better start yielding, if he wanted to continue having a relatively peaceful existence. ]

.... would you .... like to see my Rozen Zulu?

[God, he barely struggled that out. Makes it sound like he's offering to show him something a lot worse, like something you'd really find in a suspicious alleyway. He considers teasing but figures he must've worked up some courage; discouraging him now will just lock that gate later on. He's not under review himself, but he's starting to feel a sense of ownership for this wayward lieutenant, lost as a little lamb without his shepherd.

So instead of flirt, he opts for the higher ground: technological praise.]

It struck me as solidly built. I think people forget that's it often support units that win battles, not just aces.

[He drops his voice for a moment, and his tone turns disapproving. Not towards Angelo, though.]

We'd better start collaborating sooner, rather than later. You and I both know we're sharing space with Gundams.

[ ah. good call. that gets angelo to look really self-righteous and indignant once char mentions the magic word. ]

Yes — absolutely. The nerve! I was trying to explain — but the nuances don’t matter to people who haven’t suffered a Gundam. They truly cannot be trusted.

...I lost to it, didn't I?

[Probably shouldn't have asked, but if Angelo has all the pages in his book, it would've come up eventually. Gotta swallow that defeat now.]

[ he wants to lie.

wants to. but he can’t do it. he won’t. that would be cowardly. that would be dishonourable, and angelo, for all of his faults, would never betray anyone like that.

so what he does is offer his hand the way char offered it to him earlier, before grasping it warmly. there is a great sadness in angelo but he won’t let it spill here. it’s not the time and place, and .... it’s unfair to him. if they can address each other by their names, then he can talk to him like they were friends. there is no harm in doing that. they were both, in the end, going to the same grave. ]

... Captain, you must come with me.

I’ll show you what the future is.

[So yes, then.

How miserably, how badly? Did he die, or did he live, begrudging to his last? Was his Zaku destroyed? What about Zeon, the deathless hydra of so many heads? Did Lalah abandon him? Did she love him still, or did she shake her head and call him a failure? Did Amuro laugh, or did he fly off and leave him to the wastes? Would he never prevail over the Gundam, even in the future? Were those hands more capable, those hands that Angelo knew and worshiped and adored? Was he swifter, smarter, a beautiful comet that could fly three times faster than him?

Angelo couldn't have claimed that hand at a better time. He's a little lost himself, adrift in the terrible knowledge that his greatest struggle would amount to less than nothing, but Angelo's resolve summons him back. He steels his will, doesn't let Angelo see him falter. He has to be stronger than that.]

...right. I have to face it.

[But first, he sets that lone can at the fountain's edge. A tiny monument, to the good that two awful men had both done today.]

I was headed that way anyway. Let's go.

[ he’s quiet when he walks, now oddly more comfortable walking beside him than tripping over himself trying to get used to the idea of not walking in file. delivering the news of someone’s death isn’t easy. angelo himself still gets angry whenever it happens, struggles to deliver the messages to remaining family or loved ones when one of the sleeves dies. the captain at least understands, but he can’t help it. they were his people. of all of the responsibilities that lay on his shoulders, there’s a lot there that makes certain tasks difficult. it’s no less complicated when giving that information to a captain.

let alone one char aznable, whose career is as illuminated as the stars, for good and bad. mostly bad. his grasp in history is fairly decent; and of char aznable’s history, very good .... due to who his captain is, but there is a fine balancing act that has to be maintained in being honest and being compassionate, as char had said.

he’ll hold him firmly for as long as he’ll let him, this time around. his role is to support, after all. and if char is doing his best to steel himself for the inevitable, angelo will do the same and conduct himself accordingly. ]

[Char doesn't let go of his hand.

It's not like it embarrasses him, or even that he wants to hold on. It's more like Angelo has, if only briefly, caught a comet in his orbit. He feels as though he doesn't have a choice, even though he doubts Angelo would insist. He feels as though that, if he did let go, he'd let go of that future promised to him. The future he doesn't want to see, but must, because he'd swore he face it no matter what.

Don't you hate me? he wants to ask. He's not the captain he'd been hoping for, not the man he'd been praying for. He's depressed, disappointed, and angry. He made that much clear. So why would he insist upon decorum? Was it simply a desire to draw closer to that legend? Maybe if he came close enough, he thought he could touch just a trace of that Char he knew. The Char that was most important, the only Char he would ever recognize despite the fact that there was no second coming without the first.

He's silent on the trip back. There's nothing to say, really, nothing he can do. Angelo decided to pull him along, so he's pulled, out of his orbit and forced down by gravity.

The hangar is strangely quiet, once they return. No one else lingers about, at least not for the moment, and that's probably for the best. His Zaku stands tall and proud, but next to the Rozen Zulu, it felt... small. Inadequate. Paling in comparison to that future, to the beautiful Rozen Zulu, nearly a match for its beautiful pilot. Especially with those deadly claws.]

YAMS-132... so that's your designation, huh?

[All stored mechs had basic info available, easily accessible from the device. No trade secrets, though; he'd have to rely on Angelo for that.]

It really does seem quite suited to you.

[ angelo, making a face: ] It is much easier to inspect with zero gravity, but alas. We’ll make do.

I will introduce you to her. Stop me if you need clarification.

The Rozen Zulu is actually a heavily modified AMS-129 Geara Zulu using spare parts of the MSN-06S Sinanju .....

[ he releases his hand, if only because he’s going to provide a slight presentation regarding the rozen zulu. he talks about what’s easily visible to char — the good thing is that he’s more or less familiar with it, so he only barely has to explain it in layman’s terms. it takes a few minutes.

and then he pauses, and looks to him for questions. ]

[Char was a career soldier. Also a career criminal, but more to the point, he follows Angelo's description without issue. Pulling up a private window on his device, he takes notes with the same swift fingers that opened all those cans. Jots down the important details and vows to remember the rest, stepping as close to the machine as Angelo will allow.

As for questions, he opens his mouth, but he's interrupted by a shuddering sort of feeling. The unit lies dormant, utterly harmless, but that doesn't matter. The sleeping psycoframe resonates with a powerful Newtype, and his eyes glaze over with an unnatural stare, answering its call. To an average onlooker, it's impossible to tell; there's nothing visible, nothing audible. But for a fellow Newtype, the faint pressure Char emanates is unmistakable.

An anti-psycommu was designed to hunt such people. Even if it isn't deadly right now, Char's superior senses tip him off: it very well could be, whenever it woke up.]

[ angelo sees that pressure on him and he smiles, very much beaming at him. that same, unhinged smile that he has whenever the sinanju claims its sacred ground. all that devotion, for a particular violence which he’s hungry for. he’s glad that char recognizes it.

now he knows the future. it is not a guarantee of anything, beyond suffering, but at the very least: it was a possibility of victory. at a very, very bloody cost. ]

Come up to the platform with me. I’ll show you the rest.

[ and he waits for him. he won’t take his hand this time, because they’re both wild beasts, in a way, standing before something that makes their blood sing. anything can be a prelude to an attack, if not careful. ]

[Psycommu, psycommu. Char commits that term to memory too, and greed seeps in. Selfishness, the desire to win at any bloody cost. Could he prevail over the Gundam with that kind of technology? There's a conflict within him: the urge to hunt, and the urge to be hunted. This machine seems to instill both. This Rozen Zulu... he needs to learn more. Has to, if it holds such valuable secrets.]

...right.

[He sounds a bit shaken, but once again, the average onlooker wouldn't know. For Char, a minor slip was undetectable. He's still the proud captain with the iron will. He's following because he chooses to, not because he's compelled. But his eyes haven't lost that sharpness; his predator's instincts have been triggered, and those don't turn off easy. Or at all.

So he's watching over his shoulder, just in case. Anticipating an attack from this magnificent beast.]

[ angelo carefully opens the cockpit and swings in, extending his hand to char to help him over the rozen zulu’s platelets.

inside is a panoramic monitor for the cockpit. it’s a gorgeous piece of work, and as soon as angelo shuts the door, becomes slightly cramped. he sits on the cockpit and switches on the system passively, if only to access video recordings. ]

It’s a lot easier to talk about Newtypes when no-one’s listening.

[ he pulls up information on his psyco-jammer and quasi-psycommu system for char to view on screen. ]

But yes. This is the future. We need this system, unfortunately, because the Federation is still terrified of our power and has developed the NT-D — Newtype Destroyer — for their oversized toy.

[ angelo, looking frustrated, brings up an image of the Unicorn. ]

[Char has no reason to suspect anything amiss. He's a captain as well as a commander, which means maintenance checks were common and that also meant plenty of hands-on inspection. It's a little cramped, yes, but he's not exactly a large man so he falls into snug place at Angelo's side. Leaning on the seat, checking out those panels and displays with clear interest.

He's not exactly the sort to call anything cool, but damn, was it ever. It brings out the fanboy in him, just a bit.]

Wish I had something like this, back in my Zaku. It's nowhere near as advanced.

[Ah, but that Gundam... instinctively, Char hates it. And says as much, speaking with venom.]

A unicorn, eh? Seems like the Feddies fell in love with their own fairy tales.

It can’t be helped. Neither of us chose to come here with the cards we’ve been dealt with.

As I said before, I will protect you. You have a claim on my Captain’s legacy and you are Char Aznable. Those are reasons enough. [ and with equal venom, ] I will strangle that beast if I see it here.

[ he pulls up whatever information he has on the unicorn. this being his mobile suit, there’s not a lot and it’s mostly clips of what he has observed, standing away from the battlefield to not get in the way of full frontal, but at least char gets to see — ]

The Sinanju, [ he says reverently of the red beast. ] My Captain.

I've got your back, Angelo.

[Not that it means much, coming from a liar, a traitor, a betrayer. But in this, if nothing else, they are united: they will strangle that beast together. He feels confident of that, even if he winds up strangling Angelo, too. Just like the hopeful young man, with lovely hair, that followed in his footsteps.

But the Sinanju... oh, the Sinanju. It's love at first sight. It's everything he could want, at least in a machine. Bold and red and entrancing in a way that even the Rozen Zulu couldn't touch. Certainly more refined than the Zaku, dancing through the battlefield, firing so effortlessly. Dodging so smoothly. He wants it. Oh, does he want it.

And what Char Aznable wants, Char Aznable gets. At least most of the time.]

Beautiful.

[What else could he even say? Even he sounds something like reverent.]

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TDM 001

Texts From Last Universe

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