01-06-2017, 07:01 AM
...ning.
...ood morning…
“...Owwwww.”
My everything hurts.
A rhythmic chung-ka-chung rings in my achy ears. They’re less achy than every other part of me, but they still hurt an awful lot. A faint whirring noise meets my left ear, which is pressed against… something hard and cold. Metal, I observe. A metal chest.
Lazily I look up.
That face.
No.
No.
“Toaster,” I breathe fearfully.
It’s hard to focus my eyes on anything, but I can see… a hand, rearing up as if to threaten me. It takes a moment to register that it’s doing that, and given my current state, I instantly fall into line. “Okay, okay,” I whimper. “No…”
“No more toaster.” Normally I’d laugh at that. But I think the humour part of my brain got knocked out my ear when I hit my head… one of a dozen times.
Silence ensues.
Is that… concern I see? Something like familiarity as he’s looking down at me for just a moment. And… then it’s gone, just as quickly.
“Your eyes are like windows,” I mutter dreamily.
I feel myself starting to almost come to - I had already done so physically, but mentally… not quite. It doesn’t take long for me to realize it’s not just any one part of me that hurts - it’s everywhere.
“Owww… oww, oww-- OW. OWWW! GODS!” I clench my teeth and sharply inhale through them, pounding a fist against the uncaring machine and pressing my forehead against the steel of his chest as tears start to run down my cheeks. “It hurts--! Everything hurts…!” I sniffle, trembling and writhing ineffectually in its arms.
“Stop that.”
I weakly slap my fist against metal again. It’s certainly not helping me… but it’s all I can really do right now. “No,” I shoot back defiantly and… admittedly childishly.
“I’ll put this in terms you understand,” says the yet-unnamed robot as he walks forward. I look up and notice he’s staring ahead at one of the gates. A pair of mechanical fingers press against my temples. “You have lost. Your survival instinct should be ‘kicking in’ at this particular moment, as without it, I can crush your head with these two fingers and you will die.”
My heart sinks and I feel the sudden, powerful urge to vomit, imagining how my head bursting must feel.
“Those eyes,” he observes, “indicate I have come to an understanding with you. This is good.” The fingers slowly and woodenly fall to its-- or should I say his? I haven’t decided-- sides, with the rest of his hand and arm.
“We were fighting,” I note, vaguely recalling what went on a few moments ago. “You… you beat me. You could’ve killed me. And you didn’t. But… why?”
No response.
“I asked you a question,” I say expectantly. “Why didn’t you kill me?”
Suddenly the ride comes to a halt, and what seems a lot like a cold, unfeeling face looms down into mine. “That is a very good question.”
I squeak.
“...That suggests you do not want to die,” he observes, and I notice my heart’s racing. “Your pulse shows the same. So does the fear in your eyes, the trembling, the dried tears… and of course the tears running from your eyes at this very moment.”
I had started crying? Gods, I hadn’t noticed… I’m a wreck.
“Okay. I get it. I don’t want to die. But I don’t get why you don’t want me dead. Why are you…”
A very important question springs to mind, one far more important than any other at this moment. “Where are you taking me?”
“We will see.”
I’m immediately dumbfounded. “I… what?” I stammer, raising both brows. “I thought… aren’t you a robot or something? All cold and calculating and…”
“...Taking you with me was a decision made in the ‘heat of the moment’, or so one might say,” he explains. “This, too, is one. I should hope I won’t come to regret it.”
He leans down again. “I won’t, will I?”
I shrivel up into a ball with an even higher-pitched squeak. “N-No, you won’t!” I reply nervously, and instantly my head feels like it’s spinning. “Please stop! I’ve learned my lesson. No more fucking with toasters!” My words are capped off with involuntary nervous laughter which, despite putting everything I can into trying to stop it, continues as if to mock me.
Silence.
“...Very well.”
...Company? Guys in white. All white. They look… vaguely familiar. “...Good day, sir. How are… What the Hell happened to her?!”
“I picked this girl up near the Fountain,” he explains. “She is in need of medical attention.” I look lazily over. I’m assuming I’m the subject of conversation… and I’m tempted to intervene, but I also want to see where this is going.
“But-- but sir, what about you?” the white-armored figure inquires with a bit of worry in his tone.
His eyes narrow. “Did I fucking stutter?” That shuts him up.
“...I’ll explain to Hammond. You lead ‘em to a hospital,” says one to the other. With a nervous nod, the other gestures us over to the gate.
“You clever bastard,” I whisper. “You just about gored me, but I’m... almost starting to like you.” One of my burns starts to flare up with pain again and I breathe in through my teeth, stifling a groan of pain. “Ow, ow. Owwwww. Okay, maybe it’s gonna take a while for that…”
I hear what seems almost like a scoff and what looks vaguely like a faint smile before the two of us pass through the gate. It’s almost relaxing, I decide, going through one when you’re not hurtling tens of miles per hour on a bicycle or drowning in your own mopey angst.
...ood morning…
“...Owwwww.”
My everything hurts.
A rhythmic chung-ka-chung rings in my achy ears. They’re less achy than every other part of me, but they still hurt an awful lot. A faint whirring noise meets my left ear, which is pressed against… something hard and cold. Metal, I observe. A metal chest.
Lazily I look up.
That face.
No.
No.
“Toaster,” I breathe fearfully.
It’s hard to focus my eyes on anything, but I can see… a hand, rearing up as if to threaten me. It takes a moment to register that it’s doing that, and given my current state, I instantly fall into line. “Okay, okay,” I whimper. “No…”
“No more toaster.” Normally I’d laugh at that. But I think the humour part of my brain got knocked out my ear when I hit my head… one of a dozen times.
Silence ensues.
Is that… concern I see? Something like familiarity as he’s looking down at me for just a moment. And… then it’s gone, just as quickly.
“Your eyes are like windows,” I mutter dreamily.
I feel myself starting to almost come to - I had already done so physically, but mentally… not quite. It doesn’t take long for me to realize it’s not just any one part of me that hurts - it’s everywhere.
“Owww… oww, oww-- OW. OWWW! GODS!” I clench my teeth and sharply inhale through them, pounding a fist against the uncaring machine and pressing my forehead against the steel of his chest as tears start to run down my cheeks. “It hurts--! Everything hurts…!” I sniffle, trembling and writhing ineffectually in its arms.
“Stop that.”
I weakly slap my fist against metal again. It’s certainly not helping me… but it’s all I can really do right now. “No,” I shoot back defiantly and… admittedly childishly.
“I’ll put this in terms you understand,” says the yet-unnamed robot as he walks forward. I look up and notice he’s staring ahead at one of the gates. A pair of mechanical fingers press against my temples. “You have lost. Your survival instinct should be ‘kicking in’ at this particular moment, as without it, I can crush your head with these two fingers and you will die.”
My heart sinks and I feel the sudden, powerful urge to vomit, imagining how my head bursting must feel.
“Those eyes,” he observes, “indicate I have come to an understanding with you. This is good.” The fingers slowly and woodenly fall to its-- or should I say his? I haven’t decided-- sides, with the rest of his hand and arm.
“We were fighting,” I note, vaguely recalling what went on a few moments ago. “You… you beat me. You could’ve killed me. And you didn’t. But… why?”
No response.
“I asked you a question,” I say expectantly. “Why didn’t you kill me?”
Suddenly the ride comes to a halt, and what seems a lot like a cold, unfeeling face looms down into mine. “That is a very good question.”
I squeak.
“...That suggests you do not want to die,” he observes, and I notice my heart’s racing. “Your pulse shows the same. So does the fear in your eyes, the trembling, the dried tears… and of course the tears running from your eyes at this very moment.”
I had started crying? Gods, I hadn’t noticed… I’m a wreck.
“Okay. I get it. I don’t want to die. But I don’t get why you don’t want me dead. Why are you…”
A very important question springs to mind, one far more important than any other at this moment. “Where are you taking me?”
“We will see.”
I’m immediately dumbfounded. “I… what?” I stammer, raising both brows. “I thought… aren’t you a robot or something? All cold and calculating and…”
“...Taking you with me was a decision made in the ‘heat of the moment’, or so one might say,” he explains. “This, too, is one. I should hope I won’t come to regret it.”
He leans down again. “I won’t, will I?”
I shrivel up into a ball with an even higher-pitched squeak. “N-No, you won’t!” I reply nervously, and instantly my head feels like it’s spinning. “Please stop! I’ve learned my lesson. No more fucking with toasters!” My words are capped off with involuntary nervous laughter which, despite putting everything I can into trying to stop it, continues as if to mock me.
Silence.
“...Very well.”
...Company? Guys in white. All white. They look… vaguely familiar. “...Good day, sir. How are… What the Hell happened to her?!”
“I picked this girl up near the Fountain,” he explains. “She is in need of medical attention.” I look lazily over. I’m assuming I’m the subject of conversation… and I’m tempted to intervene, but I also want to see where this is going.
“But-- but sir, what about you?” the white-armored figure inquires with a bit of worry in his tone.
His eyes narrow. “Did I fucking stutter?” That shuts him up.
“...I’ll explain to Hammond. You lead ‘em to a hospital,” says one to the other. With a nervous nod, the other gestures us over to the gate.
“You clever bastard,” I whisper. “You just about gored me, but I’m... almost starting to like you.” One of my burns starts to flare up with pain again and I breathe in through my teeth, stifling a groan of pain. “Ow, ow. Owwwww. Okay, maybe it’s gonna take a while for that…”
I hear what seems almost like a scoff and what looks vaguely like a faint smile before the two of us pass through the gate. It’s almost relaxing, I decide, going through one when you’re not hurtling tens of miles per hour on a bicycle or drowning in your own mopey angst.