TDM - MARCH/APRIL 2021

[robbies]

TEST DRIVE MEME - MARCH/APRIL 2021

It's the day the devil in us gets released.

---

“Help me. Please, help me…”

A child’s voice, calling out for aid. There’s no rhyme or reason for when it comes to you. It’s so quiet, a whisper in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind. Were it not for the sharp, stabbing pain it pulls out of you, you could ignore it. You could even pretend it’s just your imagination.

It all happens so quickly and powerfully. Left in the dust, your brain struggles to process it all. Blacking out is the least it can do, but it’s also all it can do, and it does so before you even have a chance to fully register just how young the voice is, and how deeply, heartbreakingly lost it sounds.

When you finally awaken with your bare feet tangled in soft sheets, a layer of fuzzy fleece or slinky silk clinging to your body like another layer of skin, the sunlight pouring in from the window next to your bed momentarily blinding you, and the cries of happy children playing outside of it carrying faintly, it all becomes very clear—

Something is horribly wrong.

---

MARCH 1st.

It becomes very clear very quickly that this isn’t a simple kidnapping. If you’re twenty years old or older, the bedroom you wake up in is very clearly a couple’s bedroom — with separate beds like a modest, modern couple of course! A similarly lost and confused stranger is in the other. They are your counterpart, for everything in this room has a matching counterpart — the nightstand and lamp each of you have beside your beds, the framed pictures on the wall, even your pajamas. If you’re under twenty years old, your room is smaller but more personalized, filled with comic books, model kits, stray baseball cards littered around the floor. Dolls, fashion magazines of people dressed from a bygone era, stacks of vinyl records neatly arranged next to a record player. And then there are the pictures. They’re everywhere in the house — in a frame on your nightstand, hung on the walls, stuck in the photo albums and scrapbooks lying on your desk or tucked away in drawers. Here you are on your wedding day, exchanging vows with your partner. Here’s you sitting in a fishing boat with one of the younger members of your house. Here’s a picture of you at ten years old getting ready for the first day of school. All of the photographs are aged, sepia, even yellowed and dusty in frames hung for a long, long time. By the time you make it down to the living room, you’ll notice that the television is on; someone must have forgotten to turn it off before they went to bed. On it, the morning news is playing. “With their charity luncheon a rousing success, the Happy Home Association later donated all of their proceeds to the Santa Rosita Planning Commission. Debra, a member of the HHA, said the amount they donated more than ensures that 1961 will be an eventful year for us here in our fair town…”

---

GETTING TO KNOW THE NEIGHBORS.

As you get acclimated, you gradually begin to learn more about this strange new world you’ve found yourself in. You’re in a neighborhood on the east side of a town called Santa Rosita located… somewhere in California (wherever or whatever that might be). The year is 1961. If it wasn’t clear enough, your neighbors are more than willing to humor you if you ask. Even if you accost them with questions and demands. Sure, you and your family are a little kooky, and you have a very overactive imagination, but the key to any good joke is playing along! And how could something like “I’m from the future, from another world” be anything but a joke? A. DRINK UP. With March incoming, spring is in the air and everybody seems to be excited to get out of their house and enjoy the good weather. Birds are chirping, the sun is shining, and guys and gals alike are out to take a brisk walk and socialize! Wanting to make sure you’re feeling truly welcome to the town, whether you’re brand new or went through such a wild winter with them, your neighbors will be on their way with gifts aplenty. Delicacies such as tomato aspic and potato salad and bologna cake will ensure that your fridge is full to bursting, and no matter how you try to demur, they’re insistent that you accept their offerings. March also brings with it St. Patrick’s Day, and some of your neighbors are feeling festive! A knock at the door, and you’ll find yourself confronted with a plate full of 7-Up Cheese Aspic, wiggling and bright. “I saw this recipe and just knew I had to try it!” the beaming cook says, pushing it into your hands. “And with St. Patrick’s Day coming up, we should all be getting in the spirit, right?” The combination of cheese cubes, raw onions, and green olives in a mixture of lime jello and fizzy 7-Up might be a bit off-putting to some. But you never know until you try! Go on, give it a whirl!

B. SPRING CLEANING.

It’s a beautiful, picturesque Saturday in the neighborhood—the sun rising, banishing the dark shadows of night, the birds beginning to peep and tweet, the morning dew sparkling on the grass…

“Morning, neighbor!”

“Hello, pal!”

“Time to brush off the cobwebs, huh, fellows?”

“You said it!”

And as one, several lawn mowers come to life with a synchronized roar, breaking the peace of your quiet Saturday morning.

All over the neighborhood, windows are being thrown wide and the mops and brooms, hedge clippers and lawn mowers, gardening and carpentry tools alike are being brought out as the townsfolk set to combing every inch of their house and yard (and in Mr. Martin’s case, literally!) to bring it to order after a long winter. Everybody has a job, from the oldest old man to the youngest child, and everybody’s pitching in to do their part and ensure Santa Rosita enjoys another beautiful year.

And don’t think they’ll leave you, their new neighbor and best friend, out of the picture! You might emerge from your house one day to pick up the paper and find there’s a Robbie in your front yard, whistling cheerfully as he prunes your front hedges. One of your neighbors might make a cracking joke about how they can’t have you feeling left out as he rolls his lawn mower into your yard, or you might receive some new gifts in the form of seedlings and sprouts all ready to be hardened off and planted (you do know what that means and how to do it, don’t you?). Careful—if you let that salt linger too long on your car, one of the well-meaning neighbor kids might take some initiative and wash it for you! Watch out—first they’ll come for you with the hose for a laugh, but then they’ll come for your wallet when they beam and hint that, “Oh, it was nothing… I was happy to do it…”

---

HAPPY FAMILIES.

It becomes very clear very quickly that this isn’t a simple kidnapping… Hey, hold on a second—haven’t we been through this already? When your eyes open to the sound of your alarm, there’s something pinging at the back of your mind—you might not be able to place what it is right away, but something’s wrong. Maybe it’s the feeling of your pajamas, or maybe the sheets are a slightly greener shade of blue, or maybe your alarm is a tiny bit shriller than it usually is… but whatever it is, it’s got all your senses on alert. Getting up and out of bed, it may become immediately obvious—or maybe not, if your “spouse” has already woken up and gone downstairs for the day. But sooner or later, you’ll find that your loving family is no longer your loving family. Something weird is going on with Santa Rosita, and whatever force brought you here seems to be on the fritz. Your “family” can change by the day—you might go to bed in your home on Mockingbird Lane and wake up in an entirely new family on Loomis Drive. Curiously, your belongings seem to travel with you… most of the time. Sometimes they’ll be lost in transit, and that lovely little black dress you bought at Honeybee’s has somehow ended up in one of your neighbors’ closets. Hopefully you’re on good terms with your neighbors so that you can get your stuff back! Your neighbors seem entirely nonplussed by the frequent swapping of households. Ask any of them and they’ll say you’ve always lived there, that your son has always been your son, and you’ve never had a daughter, silly! As all the photos in your house seem to change along with them, it’ll be hard to find anything that might prove them wrong.

---

TOPSY-TURVY.

While your families are constantly shifting, that doesn’t seem to be the only thing going sideways. The entire city of Santa Rosita seems to be in a state of flux—days might go from mild at dawn to scorching by noon and back to December snow by dusk. Winds howl in single gusts before dying down, and rain falls such that you can stand on one side of the curtain of rain and stay dry while you stick your hand into the deluge two feet away.

Doors in your home cannot be trusted; similar to December, it’s possible for them to open up to entirely different locations. However, unlike December, the doors don’t all lead to a singular place—where they’ll lead at any given moment is anyone’s guess! You might find yourself on the other side of town, back at the site of the now-gone Christmas village, or even in one of your neighbors’ houses. Maybe you can use your bedroom for a quick commute to work or school if you get lucky or are persistent enough? Curiously, locations like city hall and the police department never pop up when you find somewhere new on the other side of your door; neither will NPC households.

As if that wasn’t enough, ghosts and goblins seem to appear and disappear with the changing of the hour. Paranormal activity of all types run rampant, ranging from innocuous to intense. You may return home to find that everything in your kitchen has been shifted by two inches… or you may wake up to find your dresser floating midair and coming back down to the ground with a resounding crash! Ghosts appear, dressed in any style and fashion up through those of 1961 (or sometimes, strangely, in clothing that’s odd and futuristic for Santa Rosita’s quaint streets), and it might be possible to find other mythical creatures around the town from time to time, though the storybook unicorns and witches seem to disappear whenever you get too close. Further, there’s something that seems to have taken up residence under your bed, though it’s never there when you try to look or catch it. But how else do you explain its cold, withered, knobbly fingers as they lock around your ankle if your leg hangs off the bed at night? Its sharp nails scratching at your heels as it tries to grab you when you get out of bed in the middle of the night? The sound of breathing that fills your room at night and the faint clammy breath on your face in the instant before you open your eyes?

Wandering packs of zombie children may show up in your neighborhoods in the night—surely you’ve stocked up on pumpkins to make a new jack-o’-lantern, right? Doppelgangers and ferthurs appear and disappear in shifts; you may be looking out the window when it happens: A slight shift in the air, almost like a video ripping, and they’re gone, transported back to wherever they came from. Maybe they were chasing you when they disappeared; you might turn around to find that nothing is there (was it ever?).

Still other are the mysterious figures you might see around town. You’ll find that no matter how often you see them, you’ll never be able to describe them to someone else; the words will escape you every time. Are they short? Tall? Stout? Petite? Dark hair? Light hair? Smiling? Frowning? Nobody who sees them can agree, but one thing is for sure: They’re watching you, and they’ll appear at random, whether that’s standing in your corner watching you sleep or trailing after you through the grocer’s. None of the NPCs will notice these figures, though they do seem to give them a wide berth if possible—almost like they can unconsciously sense the prospect of danger.

The only respite from the chaos seems to be that not everything happens at once, and at other times of the month the city is downright peaceful. There’s no reason or rhyme to the starts and stops of the monsters, the figures, the doors or the weather; check the almanacs and mark the night skies (when it isn’t hidden behind snowfall or turbulent clouds), but try as you might, you won’t be able to find a pattern.

All you can do is hope that this passes quickly.

---

OOC INFO

Hello, and welcome to We're Still Here's third TDM! Here's a few things we'd like you to keep in mind:

We’re Still Here is taking a short pause for the months of March and April. This TDM will span both months and we encourage everybody to tag out, tag in, backtag, and start new threads as you please! Apps will reopen in May.

The TDM is canon. You can treat this as a real game-wide event and pick and choose what threads you would like your character to remember when they enter the game. For characters who app into the game, the events of the TDM will be treated like a dream.

Please note that there is a lot going on in this TDM — this is intentional! We wanted to give you, the players, a full world and event to play with that could last beyond the usual event or TDM cycle. You may cherry-pick from the above prompts as you please and take reasonable liberties as you would like; if you have any questions, you may use the mod top-level below to ask them.

For current players, the Housing page has been updated with new assignments! These assignments are temporary and will be subject to shuffling once more at the end of the pause. As detailed in the above prompts, you may play with shifting housing as often as you would please; for those of you who do not want to make use of this prompt, the new Housing assignments are there for your convenience.

There is no Network prompt listed, but feel free to wildcard one for your characters anyway.

Please be sure to label any threads with relevant content warnings as necessary. Any questions for the mods can be asked in the mod top-level below (please note that due to the pause, these questions may be answered more slowly than normal!). For new and prospective players, please make use of the Prospective Rolodex!

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Comments

[frontality]

[ He'd hoped that maybe his voice would call Angelo out of whatever state he is in, but no such luck then. Unfortunate. Frontal watches Angelo intently, searching for patterns more familiar. Those eyes are bright and full of joy but it's not the expression that Frontal has come to expect from the one who adores him most of all. It's... off. It makes him understand how Mineva must feel when she looks at him. ]

Full Frontal.

[ Not that Angelo ever calls him that. ]

What's on your mind then, that has you so busy?

[ Frontal is still staring and he is absolutely not accepting that cake, no thank you. ]

[apodictic]

[ wow? he just wants to be a good neighbour :(

as for his question, angelo looks thoughtful before replying. if frontal had thought his answer will illuminate anything for him, well, that's unfortunately not the case here. ]

Well, there's so much going on for spring cleaning that has to be done at home! And on top of that, school has just been so difficult with the past few days - I know this must be boring to you, mister, but of course it's quite tough for a student!

And that's not all - the weather's been rather busy, hasn't it? Oh I do hope it clears up soon. [ he gives a cheerful laugh. ] Look at me, talking your ear off ... the season's just put me in a right mood.

[frontality]

[ The mouth is Angelo's, the voice is Angelo's, the words are decidedly not. Had it been Marida, Frontal would have considered reconditioning, but Angelo is a genuine Newtype. Brainwashing him is still not out of the question, but so seamlessly...? Or is he looking at a replica like himself? Only crafted more masterfully, completely faithful to the original in all physical attributes. A clone with accelerated growth? All of it is hard to fathom. ]

That must be quite a lot of trouble, I agree.

[ Frontal's voice sounds pleasant but behind his sunglasses his eyes grow cold as he regards the... entity in front of him. ]

But unfortunately, this isn't who you are, is it now, lieutenant?

[apodictic]

[ there's a look of mild disappointment in his face that is so gentle, it is ridiculously out of place from someone like angelo, who is always so animated whenever he is disappointed at something, mild or otherwise. ]

.... well I've never heard of 'lieutenant' as a joking pet name! Is that like when you call someone 'sport'?

[frontality]

I was not joking.

[ But it's not like that matters, is it? Frontal is powerless right now - there is no enemy to shoot and whisk Angelo away from and there is no connection between their minds that would allow him to even assess the severity of the damage to his mind. In many ways, it would be more favorable if this one is a clone or other reproduction that Frontal does not need to concern himself with. ]

No matter. But while you're here - would you mind giving me your address again? I have something I'd like to talk to your mother about at some point this week. Nothing nefarious, don't worry.

[ 'Mother'. He puts weight on the word, needling in a way he would not do to the real Angelo. It's not like he expects results. ]

[apodictic]

Well you're just very good at this, sir - a true master of such deadpan humour. [ a pause as he considers it, so he adds - another thing uncharacteristic of him - ]

I do hope I haven't offended you, but you'll find that my family would love to welcome any guest at all at any time! You'll find us at 432 Carpenter boulevard, don't keep us waiting. [ and, as if he is fully incapable of maintaining a look or emotion of distress or anything contrary to happiness, angelo gives him a cheerful smile. ]

[frontality]

[ This is downright offensive to witness. A mockery of the real deal in all regards. It's not Frontal who needs a mask between them now, it's "Angelo" and only to hide the hideous shallowness in his expression. ]

I'll be sure to come by when time permits.

[ Which might well be never if this one is a replica as Frontal is strongly beginning to suspect. But if it's not... best to know where to find him quickly. ]

Unfortunately, right now it permits no more dawdling. I have an urgent phonecall to make, so you'll have to excuse me.

[ Sorry to the cake, but if anybody knew to send Angelo of all people in order to make Frontal ingest something, that can't be good. ]

[apodictic]

Oh, but the cake - !

[ wow, you're very rude. not to be deterred, here he comes, tugging onto his arm gently with a smile. how he would hate himself when he wakes up from this dream and realizes what has happened and the fact that he nearly lost his captain this way. ]

[frontality]

[ Frontal's frown is so intense by now that it may as well be threatening to become permanent. He raises an arm and plucks Angelo's hand off his sleeve as if he was removing an unwelcome piece of dirt. ]

With apologies, but I don't want to spoil my appetite for dinner.

[ It's like 3pm but leave him be, his mundane excuses register only goes so far.

Time to retreat towards his door! ]

[apodictic]

Oh but it'll go well with your food! As a dessert! You should definitely try it at least!

[ he's going to follow him like a good, nosy neighbour. if he were the real angelo he'd be hurt by the way he's been treated ... but that's not the case here and he feels nothing but the slightest bit harried that a neighbour doesn't want to eat his cake. ]

[frontality]

[ The real Angelo also follows him around like a puppy but he's never been so annoyingly suffocating about it! Frontal has the longer legs though and he is going to make use of them! ]

I am also not very fond of sweets.

[apodictic]

Well then let this sumptuous creation change your mind, mister! [ who calls full frontal a 'mister'? certainly not angelo. not his lieutenant, who would be aghast at having thrown away his rank, yet that's what's happening here anyway. ]

I guarantee you'd be happy to surprise the missus with it!

[frontality]

[ The mi-- right. Everyone here thinks he's married. Even the real Char Aznable had the decency to never get married and thus not foster such a burden onto him, so this is truly the most irritating. ]

Your confidence is admirable.

[ ... or something. It seems that even though the door is almost in his grasp, he's not getting rid of this one. ]

I can save it for the family after dinner, I suppose.

[apodictic]

Oh gosh - that's so lovely of you. Of course! What an honour.

Let me know how it tastes! [ angelo gives him a conspiratory wink. ] I'd be glad to bring home some more for you whenever you want!

[ this is probably the most charming angelo has ever been and therefore he will detest himself once he gets back to his original personality. as it stands, he'll just inflict it onto his captain like this is the most natural thing in the world for him. ]

[frontality]

I am sure you would be.

[ ... he can feel a headache coming on. ]

Goodbye.

[ Now he has this horrible cake and needs to balance it well while basically slamming the door into Angelo's face, because he doesn't want to have to clean the damn thing off the floor when it is so much more efficient to dump it directly into the trash. Frontal is still 70% convinced it is poisoned. ]

[apodictic]

A WEEK LATER.

[ and he is here, still, looking more irate than he has ever been in his life given the circumstances. angelo has not smoked in years - years since his captain has rescued him from that brothel, years since he's made him his lieutenant, and he feels his hands shaking again. something that he'd thought was gone has come back.

not that he feels regretful. not that he feels the slightest bit remorseful for having planned an attack, no matter how small - nothing can be done by waiting. and the longer he waits in this planet the more susceptible he is to their methods of brainwashing, however sophisticated it may be - he can't even detect it with his newtype abilities because he simply doesn't have them.

reduced to a human. an old type. it is ..... offensive.

any other nondescript day, he's out on a walk while the neighbourhood is glitching and trying to figure out itself, with all of these lapses in the narrative, trying his best to act like nothing is wrong, when he sees him.

it knocks the wind right out of his sails.

how can he miss it, the hair, that stance, that imperious look? it's the captain. he's waited to see him all this time and yet -

- he remembers his voice in the shelter, when they went down to rescue them, and how those dolls, so similar to himself, had taken his form -

angelo is sharp when he confronts him, like they were in the hangar again, looking for proof as to who he is. ]

You - how dare -

- get out of this town. [ he can't feel him. his captain, he has his face, and yet he can't feel him - ] Get out or I will kill you!

[frontality]

[ Catching glimpse of Angelo has become familiar by now and Frontal has been giving his best to avoid any further confrontations with that mockery of his right hand man. It is an insult to the real person to even listen to what the manic replica has to say. So Frontal is turning to leave when he spots Angelo approaching, only he is a bit too late and---

Oh.

He can't feel him, he can't feel anyone in this town, but this rage, this uncontainable hatred for a cruel fate... it radiates off Angelo in a way that is possible to sense even without extraordinary ability. And Frontal doesn't trust like this, not in the slightest, but there is now a slimmer of that dreaded possibility and Frontal needs to make certain.

He turns to face Angelo in full, not in the slightest intimidated by the threat being hurled his way. ]

Angelo.

[ Once more what he can muster up for a greeting is just a softly spoken rendition of his name, designed to calm him down. ]

Look at me.

[apodictic]

[ rather irritated - ]

I am.

And that is all any of you can do in this place, to imitate.

[ he clenches his hand to a fist. if he loses his temper here he will be in danger. their neighbours will find them. the cops - he is already in their crosshairs, he does not want to be in them again, there are too many things to consider. but his heart is hurting because he is in front of his captain - supposedly, and again, as if he hadn't just killed a replica of his underground, who reached out to him with ghostly hands in the dark as angelo lost his temper and stomped its lifeless head - all of it now coming back to him as he sees this man. another captain. another nightmare, as far as he's concerned.

his hands shake, and that is how he knows he is not in his presence anymore. another insult to injury, this place truly is testing his temper in the best of ways. ]

[frontality]

I've been accused of that many times, but usually not by you.

[ Frontal frowns and though he knows it is futile, attempts to send out his mind to touch the one of Angelo in front of him. If it is Angelo, anyway. Without connecting to him, it is hard to make sure, and Angelo seems to have much of the same problem. Only he is more volatile about it, as he is known to be, and that puts Frontal strangely at ease. ]

If you think me an imitation of Full Frontal, you're reasonably concerned but mistaken. I am myself.

[ It's been a long time since he's seen Angelo trembling this way. He hadn't noticed how long it has been. ]

1/2

[apodictic]

[ that gets him to pause. is that him? is that truly him? .... this beyond just copying, isn't it? this is someone living, breathing, talking to him and if it is a trap, it is one that's truly elaborate, because why would any of those doppelgängers pretend to be him for this long in broad daylight, and why now, why outside of the shelter once more, why -

oh, he hates it. the feeling of hope. it swells inside of him and reaches out to his heart, makes him tremble at the idea that it might be real. how terrible it was. it makes his throat dry and makes his heart palpitate with possibility. with terror, yes, but also of the unmistakeable idea that as always, he has come here when he needs him, as always - ]

2/2

[apodictic]

[ angelo is quiet for a bit, thinking of something, any other way to prove himself to him, the way he had demanded his captain to prove to him if he were char aznable. something only he would know. something that no-one else would understand, something that only the two of them are privy to - ]

... tell me this, then.

Why do you have a rose on your desk?

[ - something only his captain can answer. ]

[frontality]

[ ... ah. Now they are getting somewhere. The question itself is ample indication that this is Angelo himself - whether or not his brain might still be under outer influence, his memories are intact and his priorities at least appear to have returned. Very well. Frontal allows himself a thin smile. ]

I have a dedicated lieutenant who sees to it that we have fresh flowers on an asteroid that doesn't produce any. One who has allowed me to share into his affinity for roses as a token of his loyalty after I have proven myself to him.

[ What an out of line demand for a subordinate that had been, so endearingly forward and without any falsehood or pretenses. Thinking back to it now and retracing the motions is nostalgic. Back then they hadn't been connected either - felt each other's minds only as vague foreign bodies at the periphery of their perception rather than as an extension of their selves. ]

I have quite the hideous office, as you know. It's a welcome touch to it.

[apodictic]

[ how upsetting. yes, he does have a hideous office. gaudy and filled to the brim with fake greenery with the exception of a single rose in a fragile vase, the only living thing permitted in that void. it is strange to think that he should miss palau this much, now.

that answer was what he expected of him, and it placates him, makes him think that the captain is here because he is here, as well. isn't that how it goes? isn't that how it's always been? when you call towards something bright and pure from the depths of your soul an angel answers. that is what prayers are for. ]

.... and your mask?

[ missing, though angelo is less vindictive when he asks for it this time. instead, his hands clutch each other painfully as he tries to make them stop shaking. not out of fear, this time, but out of a relief he doesn't feel he can trust just yet, but wants to; oh, how he wants to. it feels like it has been a very long time in this place that he has been permitted to be himself.

perhaps it's best that he's no longer a newtype at the moment so that his already volatile emotions don't toss him into the brink after all.

there are bigger problems. notably, this captain of his, walking around this town without his mask, likely married like the rest of them are, and with child, if not a few more. it is a thing that that gundam pilot would want. it is a thing that humans would wish for. it is vile. nevermind the predicament angelo finds himself trapped in, but his captain is not meant to live like a human, not like the rest of them, and this is what he tells himself because considering his emotions regarding full frontal's current predicament - being entangled in an affair his lieutenant does not consent him to be dragged into - is going to drive him insane. a family might get murdered because of his rage. that's not the goal here, and his captain will .... hm. likely find that problematic, despite agreeing that he does, indeed, need to ascend.

but the thought of it will make him snap so he tries not to. touch on it. any more than he needs to. they have problems. a pity he cannot outsource his rage to his captain, but surely, even now, he understands ...? there are plans, angelo thinks, and then there are duties and responsibilities inherently tied to the safety of his captain and of those two, the latter weighs heavier over him and ties him to whatever future he expects of himself. there is nothing else but this. ]

[frontality]

[ Deep down, Frontal finds himself relieved that Angelo is calming down. As refreshing as his anger was to see, it is good that he is able to smooth it over even as the lack of connection between them is disconcerting. They have been stripped of what would be the most genuine proof of identity one could ask for - there is nothing more direct, more explicit and infallible, than touching each other's essence and allowing understanding to fall into place. They would never have met if it weren't for the loud howl of Angelo's mind, a searing cry of pain that simple humans were deaf to. Despite all physical distance, Angelo had been right in front of him then. Now, he feels very far away even as they face each other. ]

It didn't arrive with me. This is the best I can do for now.

[ He tips the side of his sunglasses softly. ]

At least it doesn't appear that a lot of people in this place would be able to recognize the significance of what is missing.

How long have you been here?

[apodictic]

[ ah. well, he'll have to figure out a way to bring back his mask. this is unacceptable, either way. ]

About a month.

[ his voice is still soft, uncertain, but less angry. the uncertainty coming from hope - it's terrible. he's torn between snapping into position and saluting and viewing him suspiciously because he couldn't feel him.

but he sounds exactly how he should. and none of the dolls in the tunnels beneath had been this sophisticated when they were trying to kill them .... can he trust it? as with that time he was rescued by his captain the first time they met, he really doesn't have a choice other than to accept.

even then, before he understood him as a newtype, and before he became who he is to him ... he chose to rescue him. he came to that filthy room and took him away. to angelo that is reasonable.

but his captain doesn't have the kind of urgency in him that tells him he's found a way to leave, so he won't be saved now. but they can work together on methods of escape; isn't that the goal? that is acceptable, at least .... ]

... sir. [ there, he'll tack that on the end. not quite himself yet, there are two things missing in the equation: the mask, and his power. angelo looks pained. how might one go about regaining these things .... ] I can't feel you.

Why can't I feel you? This is terrible. It's like that time again. [ angelo, spiteful: ] With that pilot.