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COUNTDOWN: FACES OF FUTURE & PAST 2.0
Some have tried to best the program, others have already tried to figure out more about it, but nothing has been working. Others might have warned the Unawakened, but ow they're finding out for themselves. Bringing the phone to a repair shop to get it looked at? No programs found. Even getting the phone completely wiped did nothing, as the icon just showed up a few minutes after they walked out of the store. Showing it to a family member? The minute you blinked or turned it around to show them, it simply wasn't there.
It's taunting you. Whoever programmed this is really good. Frighteningly so. Also possibly an asshole, from the way Luci has been taunting and abusing his posting privileges.
Saturday night rolls around and still nothing from the application. The news this Saturday is nothing special. The festival of the longest day went off without a hitch, although the population had trouble getting into nightly shelters due to too much partying. A higher amount of robberies during daylight hours than last year, but nothing to raise cause for alarm. The peace continues at night.
The warning bells of the nightly curfew ring across the city as a few people finish locking their doors for the night. Civilians are settling in for a late supper and preparing for work tomorrow.
Not you, however. The Unawakened have been victim to a damn headache building for the past hour and by now their ears are ringing. Food doesn't look appetizing and they feel an urge to go to bed early. Didn't the other people in the channel warn them it might happen?
Either way, a little shut-eye would be welcome at this point. You don't even think too hard about it, and the headache fades into blissful sleep.
2AM and you snap awake. The strange foreboding voice of...something echos in your head. It's the only thing you can hear now that your headache is gone andthe city is fast asleep. You're not sure why, but the voice makes you get up and grab your phone.
It's humming softly. The icon is glowing again. Before you do, you take a look around and suddenly notice...nothing's moving. Nothing but you. Almost as if time was frozen.
Is that even possible?
You can't back down now. Pressing the button reveals another terms of agreement, but it looks quite different. It's almost...gentle?
It may take a while or it may happen in an instant, but you eventually take your finger and trace your name over the signature area to continue. You've gotten this far in any case and this one isn't trying to kill you...at least you think it isn't. Yet as your hand moves to write your name, it gets replaced with other letters. Another name that tells you nothing. Somehow you feel like you should know it, but it's...it's...
It stays there for a few more seconds, leaving you with your thoughts before the contract disappears.
You're back into that chatroom again. Questions pop up in rapid succession before you're even permitted to type anything else. Once more, it seems that you find yourself typing things that aren't matching up with what you really want to say.
At least...you think...
What is your name?
Write it here.
Do you think the future is unavoidable?
Yes | No
Do you consider yourself a bad person?
Yes | No
Have you ever killed someone/something?
Yes | No | Yes, but (insert your reason here)
Did you enjoy it?
Yes | No | It's complicated (but yes) | It's complicated (but no) | It's just complicated
Now share one or two of your darkest secrets with the rest of the group! Two makes it more fun!
Write it down here.
With questions like that and nothing around you moving, you feel like it's going to be a very, very, very long night.
[OOC: The network posts will now allow users to post their names, but they will show up as their CANON ones. The user's persona can be added at the end, or not show up at all. Additionally, the occupations will still be censored.
MEMORY REGAIN: Right before their answers are posted, they will also get a longer flash of someone calling them by this name. The memory HAS to be someone calling them by their name. It could be both a good or a bad memory, that is up to you.
FOR THE AWAKENED: Awakened will be able to answer the questions again if they want. They'll also find themselves in their fancy new outfits and will able to summon their weapons during this time. Sweet indeed. ]
Chikusa Kakimoto ☸ Astaroth
[Chikusa has even less reason to do so.]
[So he goes through them only out of a sense of duty, because it's his only idea of what to do, and he flicks dully down to the next name- ]
[Mukuro Rokudo]
[His heart stops in his throat.]
[Time doesn't stop, not like it has in the past, but it feel as though it has even though he's in a room full of people. That name- it's the one name he's been aching to hear, to read. For weeks, now, his psyche has been in a state of disarray with Ciro and Chikusa too close for comfort, and he's been dizzy trying to make sense of what he wants and who he is. The entire time, however, Chikusa has known this: seeing that name would make it all clear again.]
[And it does.]
[He has to turn away from everyone else, retreat into the hallway and then Ciro's bedroom as his breath quickens and his eyes hastily skim through the answers. It's right, it's all correct, even the silly part about illusionary clothing, and then he reads- ]
[His body isn't his own again. Somehow, his mind has detached completely and utterly, and he barely notices the way tears well up in his eyes. In all of Chikusa Kakimoto's memories, from that name and to all the aliases before, he's never once heard their leader show any value to them. All people were tools, and, for all that they had never been replaced, that included the two that had been with him the longest. Again and again, him and Ken had been told that, and they had accepted it just to stay by his side. If anyone was worth being a simple tool for, then it had been Mukuro.]
[There are people I care about more than myself. He takes a sharp breath, tasting salt distantly on his tongue. I'd take their place in hell in a heartbeat. In the back of his mind, that very first memory resurfaces again, being told they would hold him back and yet knowing- ]
[It's a miracle he can see at all past the tears gathered in his eyes, and doubly so that his fingers manage out any sort of response.]
I'm glad.
[Logically, he knows he can't say anymore than that, won't be allowed when the timer reaches zero, but....]
[He's glad. Head bowed, swallowing back tears, he couldn't be more glad for anything else, save perhaps one other person.]
no subject
What for? That there's a murderer among you?
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[All he can really say, for now.]
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I'm sorry for not being able to give you a better answer.
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Unless you're the person behind all of this, an apology isn't necessary. It seems like no one can really say what's going on.
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Still. I want to do more for you.
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[Also okay, that's not suspicious or odd in the least.]
Why?
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I'm sorry. I can't say. Just please accept it. If there's anything else I can do,
I'll try to do it.
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I'll keep that in mind. Though what's the use of making promises you can't keep?
[Considering this was all anonymous.]
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[Anything for him. From shattered and bloodied limbs that could barely carry his wreck of a body, to slicing his palm for a pact surrendering that entire body....]
[Anything.]
[All he has to do is ask.]
no subject
Prove it. Tell me what happens when the countdown is over.
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I'm not sure what I'll be able to get past the censors since I tried this before, but I'll try. However, it will have to be vague by that nature.
Is that enough?
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I'll let you know when I see the fruits of your labor.
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[That too seems familiar, after all.... Chikusa takes a breath on the other end of the line and gets to typing.]
When the countdown ended for us, we didn't [INFORMATION BLOCKED]. We [INFORMATION BLOCKED],
new clothes include. Wool this happened, something [INFORMATION BLOCKED]
did as wool. No one got herd. If it goes the same for ewe, then it should be fine.
[And then, a split second later- ]
This is sheep tactics, Luci, I wasn't trying to ram anything through.
The puns are starting to piss me off as well.
[While he stews over this, however, Mukuro will suddenly find himself with yet another memory- and this one a bad one.]
tw - torture/scientific experiments/grossness
Again he was lying on his back, but this time he was restrained against a cold, metal table. The chill of it bit through his thin gown, and when he tried to move, his thin wrists and ankles banged against metal. It must have been a common occurrence since the skin was rubbed raw around the restraints, bleeding freely.
Not again. The thought was odd, not his own but it echoed around in his skull, dredging up terror, apprehension, and resignation. Cold. He was so cold.
The sound of a machine whirring to life had him look quickly up above him, eyes widening slightly at the sight of a wickedly sharp looking claw. There were men in lab coats around him, watching with stoic faces as he struggled, who did nothing but lower the machine closer and closer to his face. His right eye seemed to be held open despite his will, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn't seem to close it. He could only watch with a sinking feeling in his stomach as the machine drew closer to him, his chest heaving as if preparing himself to run or scream.
Usually he prided himself on his ability to be quiet, to take whatever they did to him without screaming and crying like the others. For not falling in line with those sheep-like fools. And yet... Yet...
When the sharp blades dug into right eye, he couldn't help but scream.
Faustino jerked back into his own body with what could be minutes or hours or days later, his head feeling as if someone had kicked at it repeatedly with steel toe boots. His right eye was the worst of it, and he could recall all too vividly what it felt like to have it scooped out of his skull and watching it happen. Gingerly, he put one hand to his eye, almost surprised when everything felt normal. No blood, no bruising, no empty socket.
It took him a while to collect himself again, and while it felt foolish to be wary of looking at the comment again, he made sure to cover it up with a hand.]
The puns are the least of my worries. In what way will I be fine after seeing that?
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[No response. Even in a different life, it's clear that Mukuro is still himself on some level. To not say anything- especially in the face of all those obnoxious puns- that's not right. It's not how things should be.]
[Seeing that name finally pop up again floods him with relief.... And then he reads it. The flood that had washed through him turns into ice dropping through his stomach, and he takes a sharp shaky breath.]
You weren't meant to see anything. I'm sorry. Luci did the same to me once. I'm sorry.
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He shut his eyes, still feeling the phantom pain of what he'd seen, one hand clamped against his right eye.]
I asked.
[After composing himself for a bit:]
Why the sheep puns?
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I didn't do them on purpose.
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[And also painful. He should have expected as much when the other person on the network had warned him of headaches when showing people things they shouldn't see.]
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Could I ask what you saw?
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My right eye was torn out. It was vividly unpleasant.
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[Because he knows their leader has always kept it well under wraps, but Chikusa can read between the lines. A child doesn't experience that kind of thing and come away unscathed.]
[...And they were children, once.]
[It takes him a while to respond, guilt wracking him to the core and fingers trembling.]
I'm sorry. I didn't want that to happen. I swear I'll make it up to you.
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I'll hold you to your word, then.