Frisk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gainedlove) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-11-15 11:55 pm
gainedlove) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-11-15 11:55 pm
Entry tags:
00009: \XLa, la.^3 &Time to wake&up and\R smell\X &the^4 pain./
Who: Frisk and YOU
When: November 15th
Where: Around the Moira
What: Don't try to hack your FILE, kids
Warnings: violence, reality fuckery, will update as needed
They still think about it.
Almost every day since they woke up in a body of pure physicality again, they've thought about those weeks that they had been something else. Something different, something better than the flesh and blood and horrible red strength that beats inside their chest. Something safe and warm that they had longed for for so long...
Gone as if it had never happened.
But it did. They still remember, remember what it was like to have paws instead of hands, for their ears to droop low and to be covered in warm fur. What it was like to fit in, to belong where they never truly had before, despite all of Toriel and Asriel's assurances. And it's in watching those memories on their disk, trying to relive the moment, that they realize...
Everything is in there. Can't they just...put it back?
Their work is fumbling and clumsy. It takes ages to even figure out where the data is, even longer to understand how to manipulate it. Rinzler had made the whole thing seem so simple, but Frisk can't even seem to find the right paths within their own self. Maybe, just maybe if Someone Else were here, they could make sense of--
Frisk blinks in confusion at the text that suddenly starts scrolling through, long strings of numbers and odd bits of code, even broken sentences strung through with punctuation that doesn't belong. Something itches in the back of their mind, but they don't pay it any attention. Maybe if they change something here...?
Suddenly the whole display flickers and the text rapidly shifts with a strange, jittering sound, and Frisk frantically tries to stop the corruption. But the more they change things the worse it gets, until nothing seems recognizable anymore. No, no, this is bad, this is bad, they have to find someone to help...! Frisk cancels the holographic display and grabs the disk, moving to get up...
And without thinking, they dock the disk onto their back again.
S Y N C H R O N I Z I N G . . .
When: November 15th
Where: Around the Moira
What: Don't try to hack your FILE, kids
Warnings: violence, reality fuckery, will update as needed
They still think about it.
Almost every day since they woke up in a body of pure physicality again, they've thought about those weeks that they had been something else. Something different, something better than the flesh and blood and horrible red strength that beats inside their chest. Something safe and warm that they had longed for for so long...
Gone as if it had never happened.
But it did. They still remember, remember what it was like to have paws instead of hands, for their ears to droop low and to be covered in warm fur. What it was like to fit in, to belong where they never truly had before, despite all of Toriel and Asriel's assurances. And it's in watching those memories on their disk, trying to relive the moment, that they realize...
Everything is in there. Can't they just...put it back?
Their work is fumbling and clumsy. It takes ages to even figure out where the data is, even longer to understand how to manipulate it. Rinzler had made the whole thing seem so simple, but Frisk can't even seem to find the right paths within their own self. Maybe, just maybe if Someone Else were here, they could make sense of--
1 Chara
2 1
3 20
4 20
5 10
6 25
7 10
8 20
9 4
10 0
11 57
12 0
13 17
29 51
30 64
31 0
543 1
544 1
547 332
548 319
549 877045
Frisk blinks in confusion at the text that suddenly starts scrolling through, long strings of numbers and odd bits of code, even broken sentences strung through with punctuation that doesn't belong. Something itches in the back of their mind, but they don't pay it any attention. Maybe if they change something here...?
12 20
ERROR
ERROR
ERROR ERROR ERROR ER█▇▛▉▜▂
00001: demonx
00002: By the way, most of the seemingly unused text/files are used.
00003: demony
00004: If you can find the in-game context for an asset, you can show it off. But if you can't, it probably means you haven't looked hard enough. Anything truly unused I'll probably post myself, later.
00005: demonz
00006: Living in a world like this, where people can simply cheat out the answers from the code... your impatience has REALLY damaged you, hasn't it?
Suddenly the whole display flickers and the text rapidly shifts with a strange, jittering sound, and Frisk frantically tries to stop the corruption. But the more they change things the worse it gets, until nothing seems recognizable anymore. No, no, this is bad, this is bad, they have to find someone to help...! Frisk cancels the holographic display and grabs the disk, moving to get up...
And without thinking, they dock the disk onto their back again.
And the void stared back [OTA]
[They're not having Fun anymore.]
[Stumbling through the halls, Frisk whimpers and grips their head tightly, trying to will all the noise in their head to stop and go away. But they can't tell what is them and what isn't anymore, where the false ends and who they are begins because it's still all them. Trails of dust, of blood, of bitter pacifists and too-kind murderers, they know exactly how it could happen and they can't make it stop.]
[They hear someone coming and their head jerks up, but when they open their mouth to speak what comes out is warped and w̤r̻oͬn̴g̏, seems to tear through reality just to be heard.]
00678: Error./%%
no subject
Frisk, what's wrong?! Are you hurt?
no subject
04655: * Please don't think about& this anymore./%%
[It's all confused and jumbled in their head, and it hurts. They never did that, they never did that to him, did they?]
no subject
... I-I think mom's back in the room by now. Let's go see her, okay? Whatever's happening, you're going to be okay.
[He's not going to lose another sibling. He won't.]
no subject
[Frisk hesitates, their gaze flicking between Asriel's face and his hands, and for a moment their eyes suddenly change. No, not just their eyes, but their whole face. The shape of their cheeks, the color of their skin...* Still just you, Frisk but still different, still not them.]
[They don't seem to notice, and they're back to normal in an instant.]
My h̡e͇a̓d͌ h̶̴̦̩͙ũ̬͂r̴͚ͬt̃᷁͒s̸᷂̺ͧ᷅.͈̅̃.̷̷̮̣̠̾᷈.͏ͨ̔
no subject
Did you wake up like this?
no subject
[Another twist and surge, and line after line flickers through their mind.]
[10357: \E6Did you hear me&calling you...?/%%]
[11366: You can't quit^1!& Stay determined.../%%]
[00506: * (Golden flowers.^1)&* (They must have& broken your fall.)/%%]
[Suddenly Frisk freezes, and starts speaking in a voice not their own.]
05643: \E1There is one thing./
05644: \E3One last threat./
05645: One being with the&power to erase&EVERYTHING.../
05646: \E1Everything everyone's&worked so hard for./
05647: \E6You know who I'm&talking about^1, don't&you?/
05648: \E1That's right./
05649: \E4I'm talking about YOU./
[He...knew? He knew?!]
Who...who was that? Who were you talking to?
[Frisk's eyes fix upon Asriel's own, wide and brimming with tears. They reach for him and grip tightly onto his shoulders, voice cracking and desperate.]
W͍᷈̂h᷇͒᷃o᷊᷊᷃ k̶̗͎e̠͜ͅe᷿̭͢p̠ͮ̃s̛͏̙ R̄̇ͯEͬ͊͟S̴ͣ̏E͉᷅ͭT̖̈͞i̛᷆͗ń̻͕g͚᷄͞ ė̯̊v͈̯̎ẹ̸̢r͚̃̕ẙ̠᷅ṭ͛̊h̭͖̲i͚̻͞n͒̆ͣgͬ̈͌?̴̱᷆!̢̗̾
no subject
I - I don't know what you're talking about!
[Were they trying to say that he said those things? But he doesn't remember anything like that. Frisk grips his shoulders and speaks with a voice so frantic and cracked with glitches that Asriel tries to flinch away.]
F-Frisk, stop! You're scaring me!
no subject
[They're starting to try, red and black and clear tracks that can't decide what they are, everything is changing too fast. Lines and sprites and loops of code that rattle in their brain, cycling and cycling and it stops, it never stops they just want this to end already!]
I don't want it to go back, I don't want you to forget again!
no subject
Hey, are you--
[He cuts himself off when he recognizes the small person, but he still reaches out to try and catch Frisk's sleeve. It's fairly obvious that something is wrong, but he asks anyway. Habit, or something like it.]
Frisk, are you alright? What's wrong?
no subject
[They don't recognize him, can't see him. No sprite values, just a mass of black or white or SOMETHING ELSE that raises the static in their head to a fever pitch. Frisk clutches their head even tighter and whimpers, falling to their knees as something starts leaking out of their eyes. Black and thick, smelling sweet of rot--]
07331: * You tell a joke about a kid& who slept in the soil./
no subject
...and is utterly derailed by what Frisk says. That voice... that isn't remotely Frisk's voice. What's going on, here?]
Frisk, can you hear me? [He finishes crouching down in front of Frisk, but he's still hovering, not touching yet. He doesn't know how the kid will react to touch.] I don't know how to help you. Can I take you to the medbay?
no subject
[They scramble back, the black leaking out their mouth now. A void where their eyes should be stares back at the formless mass, but something in that voice...]
[spr_allsoul_4? No, not quite, but close, an echo of an echo they can remember faintly.]
[10760: * Suddenly^1, you realize./]
G█nk▒...?
no subject
But the garbled noise that comes out of Frisk's mouth, distorted and
glitchedstatic-y as it is, it's recognizably his name. He nods encouragingly, not sure how much Frisk can see but acting like they can see perfectly, just in case.]That's right, it's Ginko--the grown-up version of me, anyway. Frisk, can you tell me... what happened? I want to help you, but I can't if I don't know what's wrong.
no subject
[Frisk swallows hard and shakes their head, their hands clenching into tight fists as they look away. The noise in their mind spikes and their whole body flickers, color palettes inverting from blue and pink to green and yellow, before their body settles again. Their voice, however, still skips and catches like a damaged audio file.]
I diddddn't--I don't kno-o-o-o-o-o-ow wh at I did!
[But that's a lie, isn't it?]
[05421: \E4* you're just a dirty& hacker^1, aren't you?/]
no subject
[Telling people to calm down rarely works, but breathing is always a good idea. Unless you're a robot, but anyway.
He keeps his own voice calm as he drops his hands to his sides and sinks back down to his knees, doing whatever he can to avoid spooking the poor kid any further.]
You didn't do anything, that's a good start. Can you remember, did you... touch something strange, or eat something out of the ordinary? It's okay if you can't, I'm just trying to rule out anything that I can think of.
no subject
Nothing truly visible, of course. But he had taken a break for a reason, and when he comes across Frisk, he's almost happy for the normalcy they might grant.
Even after you saw them kill? How many times did they hurt people you know?
No...no, he pushes that away. He doesn't want to think that about his Frisk.
Speaking of his Frisk though, they look as if they're in pain, and when he calls out their name, the response is..jarring.
Mettaton's not sure what to think.]
Frisk? Honey, what's wrong?
no subject
[Burns across their face, spears in their chest, entire chunks of their body and limbs missing as if blown apart. One moment they look as if they had been pummeled until they couldn't move at all, the next as if something had wrapped around them and torn through their flesh. It only lasts for a few nightmarish seconds, before everything is back to normal.]
[Not as if any of the rest of that looked f͗a̓mͩi̧lͤi̪a͘r̓, did it, Mettaton?]
no subject
Whatever comfort he might have gotten from Frisk's presence is robbed away by the macabre flickers between injuries. He backs up, uncertain what to do.]
What's happening? Frisk, I...do you need help?
[It' all he can think of to say. This is something he's never dealt with.]
no subject
[It's playing over in their head again. The feeling of a heeled boot slamming into their head, of slamming the handle of a gun into him with such force that every system overloads and shuts down. Frisk squeezes their eyes shut and shakes their head, scrambling further back into their little corner.]
09339: \E6G...&GUESS SHE SHOULD&HAVE WORKED MORE&ON THE DEFENSES.../
[They don't want this, they don't want this, they don't don't don't don'tdon'tdon'tdonnnnn̡͈̋n̥᷂̈n͚͏̔n᷊͈͠n̺ͧ͞n̺ͩ͆n̸͍͎̦᷊̤̈̉n̶͕̻͑ͤ̆ͨ͟n̶̩͖͔̞ͩ᷁̾n̘͊̂̃̕͟͞n̷̸̢̖͌̔͌n̷̷̷̯᷇ͧ̑ͬͬ́]
[* Look at what you've done.]
ERROR
no subject
(something about it feels very familiar)
...he can't help but want to help them. Whatever he thinks of them now, they are still friends and he'll do what he can to help them.
They've helped him before, it's only fair. So he attempts to move closer, reaching a hand out.
Even if his mind is racing with flashes of slightly different events he'd seen through the ship windows.]
Come on now...let me take you to the Medbay--or if not there, at least your mother would want to see you. Maybe she can help. Frisk, please...you're not well!
no subject
[NO. No no no, don't think like that, don't think like that, don't go down that path, don't seek out that increase of a number, it's not worth it, it's not worth it!]
N̷̷̷̷̷̷̷̷͙͓̩͙ͯͤ̂o̷̷̷̷̷̷̷̷̥̞̍͊̚͟ͅ!̷̷̷̵̷̶̷̷̷̷̤ͤ᷄̈́̕
[They cringe away, hands clasped tightly to their chest. Not out of fear for themself, but fear for him.]
I...I can't, I'll ▆▉▘▚ you!
no subject
Until he speaks.]
You'll...what?
[He tilts his head, but this time there's nothing resembling confusion. Instead, there's a placid look on his face. An empty one.]
You'll kill me? You'll hurt me? Sweetheart, I've been watching you do that for days. And I think that if you were going to do it on this ship, you'd have done it already.
Not that I really know for sure. I can't say that I understand it all.
[Perhaps they didn't expect him to say that?
Perhaps not.
But...he's not offering his help anymore. At least not verbally.]
no subject
[So he...saw. Outside.]
[He knows.]
[They do not smile. There is no half-manic energy that pulls their mouth across their cheeks, no tension that makes them grip a knife tighter, stride forward because there is no point in listening to creatures you don't care about anymore. Instead their expression falls...blank.]
[An upward tick of numbers. 2, 3, 5...8. 13. It falls over their mind and they are numb, they are numb and it's better this way because then at least they don't hurt, they don't feel the screaming pain in their chest of losing something dear to them, of finally getting just what they deserve.]
[Always did feel safer like this, didn't it?]
01386: * Do what you have to./%%
no subject
Why is it that Mettaton can't do anything but hurt the ones he cares about?
Why is it...that the ones he cares about had hurt him first, then never told him? Not that Frisk had to--as far as he was concerned? Nothing had happened. It was another him that he'd seen reduced to dust. It was a different Mettaton who lay shattered and broken after fighting with all he had to steal Frisk's soul.]
Frisk. Please come with me. I'm not going to make you, it has to be your choice. Don't you want to be helped?
[Just once more, he extends them MERCY. Tentative, but still a kindness.]
no subject
[Why?]
[Why are they all like this? Why do they keep coming back, offering love when they've seen, when they know the sort of thing they are? Don't they understand what will happen if they stay?]
[They shouldn't...they don't care. They don't. It's easier, it's fine, they don't need any of them. They're fine on their own.]
[Frisk takes a step back, then another. Abruptly they turn on a heel and run down the hall. * Flee, after all, is MERCY as well, is it not?]
no subject
Truthfully, he wasn't sure what he could do. They sounded terrible...like a broken machine.
In the wake of Frisk's escape, Mettaton says the only thing he can at this point:]
I am so sorry...
[Then he sighs. There's definitely a hiding place with his name on it.]
no subject
[That's about when he spots Frisk.]
Frisk? Little friend? What is it?
[He's going to set his pile of Things down, and approach. Kneeling near them.]
no subject
I...I don't...
no subject
[For a towering man like Reinhardt, it's no easy task to make his voice this soft. It's hard. His usual words are huge and booming across a room. But now they're quiet. Private.]
[Concerned.]
[He wants to step toward them, but refrains. He keeps a hand outstretched toward them, regardless.]
Do you need the doctor?
no subject
01559: & Don't I'm& leave ready\C
no subject
You can't see the doctor? Or she will not help?
no subject
It's n▒̜▓...d▒█░ors won't help.
no subject
What can I do?
[He doesn't know what to do with this. Or if there's even anything he can do with this. For this. Reinhardt doesn't press to follow, though. Opting to not inadvertently menace them any.]
ha ha ha guess who forgot to edit a font tag in there hOPE YOU DON"T MIND.......
[It hurts. It hurts so MUCH.]
NOTHING.
NO WORRIES
[He trails off, speaking more to himself than Frisk. Angela would have an idea -- she must. Someone with medical training...]
[But he stays where he is. If nothing else, he can just be here for them.]
It's me, ▒█░░▒̜▓ [closed to Tabris]
[Values and numbers fluctuate, flicker rapidly in uneven sequence. Patterns that are familiar, that they've never felt before, that are i̸m̲po̶ss̸̒ĭ̸̶̸̶̸̸̸̶̲̲̆bl̶e to achieve but they manage anyway because nothing is solid anymore, nothing is constant--]
[A brief, steady moment. Suddenly it isn't you, but me, and despite a flickering body an outcome has been achieved. Lips that curl up into an impossible thin arc, reddened blotches of skin that you had missed ꜱᴏ ᴅᴇᴀʀʟʏ. Is this what you wanted? A demon in the halls, stalking through with wide eyes and intent purpose, looking for the last bit of power that they need to b̷̶̖ͭ͡rͩi̸n͢g̣ i̷̶̝̥̾t͒ a͢l̴̈ͪl᷉ t̲o̶͖ͦ a̴̷͍̳᷂nͨ eͪn̷̪ͮd͐.]
[And then, a challenge appears. One that they do not recognize, though they know it's form. A smile and eyes to match their own, so casually looking at them as if they are nothing.]
[Well. Soon everything will be, so what does that matter?]
Greetings.
F͈͊̍ I̛͗ L̟ͥ̄ു Ȇ̶̸̖ C O͑̈́ R̓ Ŗ̾ «9 Ù Ô ᷾ô͘ «̳ [closed to Clu]
[Frisk has collapsed in a corner of the halls, gripping their head tightly and curling up into the tightest ball they can. Data, string after string after string, it all tears through their mind and flickers in their body, and they just can't bring it stable again. They try and try and try, gripping onto anything that might seem solid, but it never works. It just changes and shifts and rewinds and fast-forwards and there's just too much in their head--]
[They hear footsteps and jolt to awareness, eyes that change from brown to dark crimson to blue to a bright and unnatural red staring out of a face that can't seem to decide what color or shape it should take. Flickering from moment to moment, the human shivers as the colors of bright-on-black register, and even if the lights are of a brighter color than they're used to they still uncurl slightly, and:]
*̨᷈̔ (̣̿̈́Y̺̥͗o̝̿͠u̲͋̏ c̘͇̟ặ͏l̞᷀̾l̟ͭ͑ o͒̊͊u̵͉͝t̩ͯ᷇ f̒ͤ͟ỏ̺͑ṛ̮̎ h͒̑͡eͧ̒͢l̼͇̈́p̗͔͖.̶̌᷀)̯ͤ̃
[Quite the glitchy little beta, isn't it, Clu?]
IF: THEN
He'll pry that intel out later, some time when there aren't at least nine different rogue infections prowling the
systemship.Antiviral is not his role, but neither are research or infrastructure. He's designed for repair and allocation, here trammeled into the phones and telecom. And that's a good use of his skills, when death isn't pouring in from every corridor.
Clu stalks the halls, lit disc in hand, swinging full-bore at anything that snarls too loud or sloshes too quickly into his path.
Scraping the last of something stubborn and wet from his boots, he almost runs into--
violation: and error: and illegal action at: 0xA...
But he's not Security. He's Resources. He's the Administrator.
This isn't a threat to him--this agonized huddle of allegiances and hideous grey, chattering helplessly on the floor like a broken toy.
This is an asset: and one in grave need of repair.
Besides, he recognizes--]
Frisk?! Buddy? Can you hear me?
[Inane, perhaps, but it'll do for a basic response diagnostic.]
no subject
13242: * grievous e̦̲̓r̴̺ͭr͈̣͠o᷆̋̈r᷅̒͡/%%
[No, don't--don't say it like that, that's not how they should sound. Frisk grits their teeth, squeezes their eyes shut, and fights to find their own voice again.]
I d░n't ░▒̜ow w▓at I did...!
no subject
To even answer him is clearly code-wrenching for the beta, teeth ground down, eyes and hands clenched shut against the seething conflict of its code with itself.
And it is never a good sign when Users' voices sizzle out of tune like that.]
Okay. [Twitching backward a step because it is not okay and all his instincts are recoiling from clear evidence of a massive glitch.
It is totally not okay. But it can be, if Clu acts right now.]
It's gonna be all right.
[Isn't Frisk friends with Asriel? And they're from the same world, too. Their superstructures should be similar--minimum thirty percent chance.]
I can fix this. [His voice is human, but only in the sense that it's recognizable English, a harsh, guttural electronic warble of urgent prompt:] Accept?
no subject
[They choose without a second thought. They don't care what happens, they just want this to END.]
[Frisk nods, desperate, and scrambles to pull the disk off of their back--somehow miraculously unaffected by their massive system failures.]
Please, make it stop, it hurts!
no subject
But yes is yes is true and Clu can solve this. He can fix it. That plea for help cuts past things like safe and should and leaves him with do.]
Hey, hey, not while it's in write!
[If his grip on that arm is total and sudden and whiplash tight--well. Can't have Frisk scrambling themselves.]
Easy. Easy. First we'll just--
[Strictly speaking, he shouldn't touch the disc, but he's not antiviral--without a proxy and additional overhead, his capabilities are strictly on contact. Especially for thorough work like this. He cancels the synch with a jab. Can't undo what's already done--the surface sizzles greater than 90 percent, nonsignificant--but he can stop whatever that is from bashing down through the root folder.]
There. There, feel that?
[The disc is light and slim and his with one neat practiced twist.]
Let's see what's to see, huh?
no subject
[Frisk doesn't trust their voice and so they nod instead, rocking forward onto their knees to curl up kneeling in front of him, watching him open the disk's memory with fear and a tiny, tiny spark of HoPe.]
[Their data is a mess.]
[Clearly whatever started this was a core violation of internal rules, something that created a recursion and corruption of base values that rockets all the way through the strings. Memories are going through every possible value, and their physical state is in a state of constant flux. All the myriad errors clearly have a common link and source, but the challenge of finding it is not to be taken lightly given how little stability Frisk has left.]
no subject
With the disc in hand, that's good enough for Clu.
Even laying perfectly flat, the disc rattles in his palm--a softer, steadier, and somehow more insectile noise than Rinzler's guttering snarl--insidious and regular like a wiped platter.
The glyph doesn't even load, no comforting profile image of Frisk hovering above the open surface. In its place are seething strings of letters.
Which, sure, that's what humans are made of, with their universal start sequences always flowing A:T::C:G, but this--it's something else, flocks of C's diving out of step with the others amid a wall of static, strobing splatters of values that loop too fast even for even him to process visually.]
There's something...added here. Did you--no, no [stroking the bright and agitated surface, more from reflex, more from habit than necessity--he moves the code with his mind, not his fingers] this was always here. Or it's tried to be. This thing has been following you a long time.
[He doesn't know a lot about their circuitry--nerves--but long, long nights with a longer list of programs have taught him perfectly what pain looks like, and how to twitch some of those stacks aside, smother them in soft dull static, drugged and grey.]
...Kinda nasty, isn't it? [Only it's said with a hum of approval.]
We'll find it, don't you worry.
no subject
[Though really, of what can be seen? Whoever wrote this really did not know what the heck they were doing. Who even puts down that many case switch statements for one operation?!]
[Frisk can tell something is getting better, as some of the confusion fades and they can think more clearly. They nod to Clu's reassurance, but flinch as the glitching in their body spikes again. The distance he's put in helps, but it's still painful. Watching the shifting code, they recognize something in there--a set of values, one small packet of data amidst several. file0, file8, file9, playerachievementcache. Making a crackling, screechy sound, they point to the cluster urgently. Those, they remember those!]
no subject
The character data's the worst of it, partial strings, persistent hooks that make him blink away a far older association--his hands are not clean and this has to be deliberate, is more like something forged specifically to
--s̡̙̜̤̹͓͍ͧ̽ͯ͒̂̚̚͝p̧̠̩̞̣̺̦̣̉̓̏͡r̜͈ͦͩ͛ͦ̈́̃e̶̶̝͍̬̱͐́a̧͔ͬ̒ͭ̆̒ͩ̏͋d̴̝͇̟̤̯̭̏̃̐̂̎̓̀̚ ̶̣̭̲͍̂̃̏͒̚t̅̉ͮ̃̓̓͋̀͞͏̘͚͍̣̜̰̬ͅȟ̵͈͙̳̳̜͎͙ͩ͌̆̕͡e͎̼̰̻͊̈̍͜ ̲̲̩̫͕̣̪ͫͣ̓͊̍ͅp̴̷͉̗̳̻̣͚͗̀ͤͣ̿͗ͥ̕ ͎͖͙͆a̺̭̮̞̩̩͈ͣ̅ͣ͋͊́͟ ̛̼͕̣̣̫̮ͮͦi̧̘̙͕͈̬̪͓͖̺̿̍̎̓̎͢͢ ̶̠͈ͯ̌ͮͨ̅̐̋ͫ̚ǹ̳̞̲̺͕̲̙͋ͮ͟ͅ--
No, not now; junk data could scrub Frisk right here, and it'd be Clu's fault.]
Okay, okay. I've got you--!
[No he hasn't, acidic gold feedback as the checksum fumbles and packets bubble free of their assigned order and whoever packed that many case switches on that one poor statement should be dragged into the arena and fed to Rinzler.
Frisk shivers a little in the grip of it, squalling with feedback, painstakingly pointing out--]
Well.
Well, well, hello.
[A nice fat cluster series of stable values; he prods gently, soft as testing an aching tooth with your tongue. These assets are in good shape. They should be able to get visual playback out of at least two.
But there's one he's especially interested in, and he doesn't exactly ask--]
Achievement unlocked.