askladywily-deactivated20121217 asked: Stay safe, that is an order. I am still in Albert's tower. I will see what I can do to fix this and bring you home.
Understood. I’m doing my best.
“Correct.” Protoman confirmed, looking the pair over. They both seemed nervous, but his heart sank as he realized that he didn’t recognize anything about them. They weren’t a part of the organization in his city. He stood still and left his hands open at his sides to show he was unarmed, at least for the moment.
“I am not familiar with your credentials, Robert Taylor and Mark Jason. You are not citizens of my city, are you?”
“‘Fraid not” Mark replied, his smirk dropping. “Seems those cracks have messed things up more than we speculated they would.”
“Us being third class puts us above regular espionage echelon operatives. I don’t know if any of that information is helpful, however, it’s highly likely that your city works with us in a different way. ” Robert explained with a shrug.
“Correct. In the city I come from, no citizens are permitted additional security clearances. Doctor Andrea Wily does not trust any individual with more than 30% organic components.”
He almost laughed, but it seemed like an inappropriate time for something like that. Instead, he looked around again, still scanning for any additional heat signatures.
“Is this your city, then? I am not familiar with this region, and do not believe that further investigation would change that. It does not appear to be a part of my world, as it were.”
The shorter of the two pressed against a nearby wall. This was instinct, keeping close to cover lowered the risk of being shot, after all. He looked over at his partner, who smirked.
“Sounds to me like we may have found him.”
“More like he found us. How’d he know we were here?”
“I don’t know. You going to answer him?”
“…alright.”
Tentatively leaning out from behind the wall, he spotted him. Looks different from the one we know. Interesting… He thought, stepping out. “Robert Taylor, third class espionage echelon. This is Mark Jason, same class and echelon.”
“Going to assume you sent that message?” the other asked, crossing his arms.
“Correct.” Protoman confirmed, looking the pair over. They both seemed nervous, but his heart sank as he realized that he didn’t recognize anything about them. They weren’t a part of the organization in his city. He stood still and left his hands open at his sides to show he was unarmed, at least for the moment.
“I am not familiar with your credentials, Robert Taylor and Mark Jason. You are not citizens of my city, are you?”
(Source: ask-protoman)
[[ Transmission Protocol 3428: Personal broadcast, Source: Designation DLN-000 ]]
Acknowledged. Am currently venturing to the lower levels of the building. No signs of life, but there is a large grouping of blackout curtain tents and other basic living space items on the second floor. This space appears to have been occupied recently, although no one is present at the current time.
[[ End Transmission ]]
It’s dark, but his eyes adjust immediately, widening the aperture pupils to make the most of the scant illumination. There is no lingering warmth in the tents, but it looks like’re used to maintain total darkness by hiding lanterns and flashlights inside—a smart tactic in enemy territory. But if this is enemy territory, here in his city, then he must be the enemy. He’s never seen a rebel camp—he only fights when they come to him. Doctor Wily doesn’t like him to stray too far from home.
He needs to get back there, and soon. There’s no telling what kind of danger the Tower or his mistress might be in.
“We’ve received a reply, sir.”
“And?”
“Looks like an assessment of the area. Recently occupied, though no-one is apparently present right now.”
“Hm. I see…Very well. As stated, we’ll send two of you to his location. The rest of us will keep close to our current location, we have to ensure that we avoid detection. Ladies, gentlemen…we’re running dark for now.”
—
Two operatives headed towards the designated location, having traded their Loyalist dress for casual disguises. They had kept their IDs, however, in case distrust was an issue, and their weapons, concealed of course, in case of a fight. The world they were seeing around them was unsettling to them, different. Even the air felt odd.
“If only we could report this…this doesn’t seem like how this area was before” one gruffly muttered, the taller of the two.
“We can report it when we get back” replied the other, a smoother tone to his voice. “Let’s just get to this Protoman, and hope this isn’t some kind of trap.”
Proto waited until he’d reached the ground floor to put out a scanning beacon for his surroundings. The simple radar picked up on the heat of living creatures and people, and at first he found only a few rats within his 50-yard range. The area was well an truly abandoned, not at all the kind of area he would have expected to find a rebel camp in. He’d always assumed they would stay close to civilization to renew food supplies. Clearly he’d been going about hunting for rebels in the wrong way.
Looking around, he chose the the direction that led towards the most lights as the best way to go, and soon enough he picked up two human-sized heat signatures at the edge of his range. He was wearing a long grey coat, military in design, and a yellow bandanna at his throat. The helmet that covered his face stood out like a beacon in the grimy, dusty gloom, emblazoned white on red. He moved with a certain amount of caution, unsure if these were the two who had been sent to find him, but without his chain gun there wasn’t much he could do to prepare himself for a possible skirmish.
“Requesting names and any other relevant designations.” he called out as he came around a corner into view. They didn’t appear armed, for which he was thankful.
[[ Transmission Protocol 3451: Silent broadcast, Source: Designation DLN-000 ]]
((This came out longer than I thought it would, so for the sake of dashboards, i’ll put this under a read more.))
[[ Transmission Protocol 3428: Personal broadcast, Source: Designation DLN-000 ]]
Acknowledged. Am currently venturing to the lower levels of the building. No signs of life, but there is a large grouping of blackout curtain tents and other basic living space items on the second floor. This space appears to have been occupied recently, although no one is present at the current time.
[[ End Transmission ]]
It’s dark, but his eyes adjust immediately, widening the aperture pupils to make the most of the scant illumination. There is no lingering warmth in the tents, but it looks like’re used to maintain total darkness by hiding lanterns and flashlights inside—a smart tactic in enemy territory. But if this is enemy territory, here in his city, then he must be the enemy. He’s never seen a rebel camp—he only fights when they come to him. Doctor Wily doesn’t like him to stray too far from home.
He needs to get back there, and soon. There’s no telling what kind of danger the Tower or his mistress might be in.
((I love seeing so much art around! RP that inspires art is the best kind :D This is an older drawing of my Proto :) ))
[[ Transmission Protocol 3451: Silent broadcast, Source: Designation DLN-000 ]]
My visual and other sensory systems appear to be back online. Diagnostics show appropriate operational parameters, but I remain uncertain as to the validity of incoming data. I am broadcasting on a sub-audible frequency in case anyone out there can hear me. If you can hear me, please consider this a distress signal.
I appear to be located in a warehouse of some kind. Perhaps an old factory. This level, at least three stories up, is devoid of clear contextual items. I do not detect any human movements or sounds, but feel as though I am not alone. The streets below are… Unfamiliar. Despite my extensive mapping of the City, I do not recognize my current location.
I am not being restrained or restricted in any apparent way, but I have much the same sense of what humans call fear as I did when I was held against my will by rebel elements. My clothes are different, so someone must have brought me here.
Please, if there’s anyone utilizing these frequencies, your response is requested. No one who aids my return to the Tower will be arrested, regardless of political allegiances.
[[ End Transmission ]]
I am uncertain of the origins or destinations of any frequencies received or sent. Please, if you can hear me, help. Core processors are overwhelmed. Doctor, I need your help. I don’t know where I am.
Visual systems appear damaged. All unnecessary systems will shut down to re-route power to core integrity and visual repair. I am unable to see things that ought to be readily visible in my immediate surroundings, but am able to see several overlays of additional views, some of which appear to be quite distant. The city I am seeing is… much dirtier than I’m used to. I believe I must be tapped into the security feeds.
Any other reasonable explanation is pending, and will be examined in order by probability.
I feel these very faint signals in my head… like bots that aren’t exactly here, but not exactly background noise either…
Something is walking just beyond the veil of reality.
I haven’t noticed the effects you describe, but my unusual visualizations during times of inactivity have continued. Perhaps the two are related.