Rogue

[Albert Wesker]

Quietly, the helper navi spent his idle time perusing the myriad wonders of the Dataverse, spending his time among the lesser-traveled byways and data pathways of the digital verse. He didn't want to busy himself with anything that would become too distracting or require too great an investment, as he needed to remain ready and on-call for the possible return of his operator, and aware of the spotting of several other individuals.

He had taken the time to thoroughly scan his memories of the flight through the Dante Verse from before the crash, and tracked down any scrap of information on any of the individuals he had so much as gotten a glimpse of. It wasn't easy going, by any means, but he was managing it. A few names, here and there, and sightings that some of them had reappeared in the Nexus fairly recently, seemingly respawned as Primes were liable to do. It was simultaneously encouraging and worrying, to know that. Encouraging, in that wherever it was that the rescue group had ended up, they weren't going to be stuck there and in need of rescue themselves. Worrying, in that wherever the rescue group had ended up was apparently dangerous enough to prove lethal to the ones who ended up there.

It was a terribly confusing feeling, and not one that Cricket really wanted to spend much time at all pondering over. He merely resolved to accept the fact that, one way or another, everyone that went there would make it back out, in one way or another, and left it at that. He didn't want to fret his poor overtaxed processors any further with the very worrying fate of the no-doubt many secondaries involved in the endeavor. They didn't come back when they died, like Primes did, if his informational sources were accurate. He had no reason to doubt them, but that only made things more worrying. He didn't have the extra memory to spare worrying over people he didn't even know at the moment, not that it made their fates any less unpleasant and awful to even imagine. He was far more occupied with worrying about his own issues.

Like the very, very worrying realization that he had only just managed to compile enough data for a proper backup before the plane had crashed and he'd lost signal to Colonel's PET. A minute sooner, and he'd have been cut off mid-backup and left a garbled, half-finished mess, and very likely dead, or corrupted beyond repair and left only to a slow decay and eventual death. And probably a meeting with Crunch, or one of his fellow cyber-garbagemen. It was enough to make him quake in fright, that something so routine had almost had such drastic consequences, and what it might mean for him if it had. He'd been imparted with the tragic, but ultimately logical fate of navis in his universe of origin by Colonel, but the Omniverse didn't play by the same logic, really. It had its own special brand of rules, laws, and physics at play. Things decided solely by Omni himself, by all accounts, if even a third of the common theories were to be believed. Unique rules and laws of physics, created solely for the Omniverse, by its creator, Omni, himself.

Omniphysics, if you would.

Because everything in this world had to be named after its creator, to ensure everyone would never forget who was responsible for all of it. Omniphysics, for the Omniverse, created from and made of Omnilium, and able to be changed and manipulated by the ones directly summoned by Omni so long as they followed some vaguely defined rules for the process which were, of course, fully known only to, and enforced by, Omni himself. It was confusing, and it was verging way too close to Assonance, in his very unprofessional and non-literary opinion, for something that was not a poem.

.....what had he been doing, before that distracting line of thought? Oh, digi-drat it.