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Breakout and Beyond: September Plot Log

Who: Everyone
When: September 9th-23rd
Where: Kauto
What: Escape from Dino Jail and taking the fight to the Savrii
Warnings: Probable violence and mental manipulation. Label your content.

the escape

Over the last few days—or weeks, for many—a number of preparations have been made. Some gathered resources. Others fashioned weapons or small bombs. A few pored over the schematics Mother provided, looking for a weakness in the field generator, while others took her offer of assistance more directly. Whether with information or training, tools or trades or promises, everyone has had a part to play. And on September 9, all of that comes to fruition.

It starts at the gate. Through careful observation of the supply groups, one team of insurgents has correctly identified when the gate will open: and prepared their very own dinosaur-mounted EMP. With the controls damaged and the gate locked open, the Savrii guards are met with a host of individuals armed with shock-sticks, home-made bombs, and one improvised laser—many of whom appear oddly immune to the pacifying effect of the intermediary present.

As terrifying as this proves to their morale, it seems possible the Savrii could turn the battle their way. They have superior weaponry. They have a single chokepoint to defend. They can and will call for backup as soon as the danger becomes clear. Still, there's one factor they couldn't have anticipated. One vulnerability of the dome field, pulled from the schematics by the more technically minded captives who spent time on the endeavor. This place wasn't a punishment, after all. The Savrii didn't want to inflict harm. Merely contain these dangerous people, for their own good. And so, the force field has a safety feature built in.

It decreases power, just slightly, in proportion with the biomass that comes in contact.

While the guards at the gate are busy with their fight, a brilliantly colored array of hazards break free from the forest grounds. Perhaps you're riding one of your new friends. Perhaps you're dangling dino-catnip just in front. It's possible, of course, that your dinosaur is motivated without help—possibly by the array of prey animals running in front of it. Regardless of the motives and the methods, when several hundred tons of dinosaur make contact with that wall?

The force field shatters.

Charge.

A World of Peace

The fact (and methods) of the "newcomers'" escape puts an end to any pleas for peaceful resolution. Within the hour, Thisavrou is placed under a state of emergency: transport locked down, all responders called in, and every combat force their peaceful worlds can gather called to defend against this menace. The Ingress Complex itself is sealed off entirely: a full-strength Artifixx force field raised to deflect (or destroy) incoming ships. Not that the storms outside the Ingress—or the cracks they've begun carving in the sky—look easy to navigate for even the best trained of pilots.

While those looking to fulfill their promise to Mother will need to find a way offworld eventually, events on Kauto are likely to keep Thisavrou’s Most Wanted busy for some time. The Savrii are in self-defense mode, ready to protect their world against those who refuse their gift of peace. Whether looking for a fight or trying to find shelter, travelers are most likely to encounter these groups as their hunters:

Security. These Savrii have been taken from their usual work in Ingress Security or similar professions. More like police than soldiers, they are still armed and formidable. Each small squad will almost always be accompanied by a single intermediary, capable of both detecting nearby targets and enforcing the non-violence field on those who did not accept Mother's link. These groups may try to talk characters into surrender and prefer non-lethal force at first. But as the days go by, they are likely to recognize this is futile and be willing to take ruthless measures.
Off-World Kill Teams. Those who traversed the wreckage of the true Midway hub, or participated in the extinction of Thiri have met these Savrii before. The ones who take dangerous away missions and purge worlds that have misused Ingress technology, these groups are versatile and ruthless. While less likely to be accompanied by an intermediary, they are more likely to have powers and advanced weaponry of their own. Regardless, they are specialists in their fields and fully willing to kill innocents for the greater good. Their skillsets range from fighters to hackers to assassins and more.
Civilians. The majority of civilian Savrii are more likely to hide than to fight, but among their number are non-professional fighters who are more than willing to form amateur groups or go out alone to take down the dangerous invaders. Their mindset may center on protecting their homes or taking revenge for past encounters such as the Shadows. While the weakest of the groups, they're still capable of doing damage. However, not all civilians are hostile or afraid; those who had good relationships with their newer neighbors or who were personally aided may show sympathy. This could come in the form of food, supplies, or temporary shelter, though they won't stand directly against the authorities of Thisavrou.

Regardless of whether fugitives are are caught unaware or go out looking for trouble, one thing is certain: they are likely to do better if they work together. While Mother's link isn't the only method with which to fight the intermediaries, groups without at least one immune person may find themselves put down with ease. At the same time, even those who can resist intermediary manipulation may be overwhelmed by force.

Still, death is rarely the end on Thisavrou, and even now, the technology that allows for resurgence remains in your hosts' possession. Those killed fighting the Savrii may be seen again, and there is always the chance to rescue those who are captured. But would the reunions be happy ones?

Points of Interest

Where to go? What to do? Even without leaving Kauto, there's a literal world of possibilities. Still, the conflict at hand won't go away, and some of your peers have been preparing for it for some time. Between Mother's request, your own needs, and data gleaned from a Trojan implanted in the Savrii's systems, a few objectives might present themselves. And whether you're hunting, hiding, or helping, there are a few places you might want to keep in mind.

Home
As soon as characters were unknowingly brought into the Midway Hub simulation, Savrii agents were dispatched to enter homes and search them for any items of potential danger. Mundane possessions will still be there, including pac-discs for those who had them. Settling down for a night at home is likely to get people caught, but now is a great time to pack anything travelers want to keep. However, to find weapons and items taken during the simulation...
Reclamation Depot
Established just one month ago, this unremarkable complex is buried in the maze-like streets of Region Five. Rumors describe it as a research site: somewhere to examine hazardous materials and see how they could be turned to the societal good. You might better know it as an impound center. Specifically, where they put your weapons after throwing you into "detainment".

Fortunately, research efforts haven't gotten far. Less fortunately? This is the first place all those reinforcements go. The facility contains a set of laboratories aboveground and a storage complex underneath, as well as an adjoining kennel for containing pets. Your companions won't have been harmed, but you can bet the Savrii will harm you trying to get to them.
Network Hub
The data recovered from the Trojan indicates one very important fact: that all of your data has been monitored from day one. Those interested in safeguarding their communications (or disrupting the Savrii's) may wish to make a certain site in Region One a priority visit. A towering skyscraper over a hundred stories in height, the communications tower that controls the TAB network is a masterpiece of engineering. It's also, predictably, guarded. Still, the amount of reinforcements on this site will vary strongly depending on how openly—or how literally—you broadcast an attack.
Mediation Centers
Simple buildings designed for a sense of comfort and peace, these structures can be found in all residential centers of Thisavrou. They serve as the workplaces of the intermediaries, the so-called glue that binds Thisavrou together—or, the mind-controlling oligarchs, if your new acquaintance is to be believed.

Under the current crisis? They're a little understaffed. Still, if you're looking for the intermediaries, this is a better place than most to check. Just don't walk inside alone, or your friends might end up looking for you.
Sewers
With so many forces acting against them, where can travelers find shelter where they can rest, regroup and plan? A base of sorts may be found in the sewers where a team once sought the contaminant. With access to much of urban Kauto, enough distance from the surface to go undetected by intermediaries, and a few larger spaces to provide some breathing room, the sewers may not be a pleasant sanctuary, but they may be the place most able to give characters more than a moment's rest.

A Dinoriffic Note: While characters may keep their dinosaurs with them after the breakout, now that their prehistoric pals have reached adulthood at an artificially fast rate, they will find that dinosaurs are also designed to wean off dependence on their handler, and over these weeks, character-dinosaur pairings will grow farther apart. Although the dinosaurs will always have a softer spot for those who were around during their adolescent days, alas, these partnerships are not destined to be permanent.

[OOC: Please check out this OOC post for more information on character options and objectives! Additionally, this is the last chance for free exploration of the current setting, as events will push toward the arc climax after this log. If there is anything you OOCly want your character to have or do, please take advantage!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"That's a funny thing to call it; as I recall, you were less of a facilitator and more of a participant."

It was their seizing of the Ingress that led everything to this point, was it not? The chaos, the unrest, the rumbling - start with Shepard's detainment, escalating with Lavellan's interference and the breaking of the Ingress that followed, the contaminant that the Soldier unleashed upon Kauto at large.

But, hey. Surely they can claim the credit for some of this mess. They did dissolve a marriage overnight, resulting in the re-igniting of a longstanding interspecies war!

"I never said that I facilitated anything. However, I'm certain I dispensed some harsh punishment all on my own. For that, I can take full responsibility, whether you gave me the option or not."

They might like that; he's taking credit for a terrible thing that he did. Don't they like it when people don't try to run from the consequences of their actions? They never let him run from his.

"I was happy to participate regardless. Those slavers deserved every bit of what I gave them."

Justice dispensed.

He was happy to participate. Perhaps that would be why he is so happy to participate now.

"And do the Savrii, do you think?" Call it interest, call it curiosity. Call it whatever you may. "Or are the intermediaries not your concern? I can't imagine they would be."

Sorry, did you think Chara would be playing nice and civil, even now?

"After all, I don't believe they've ever bothered to victimize you or someone you deem important enough to care about. That rather seems to be your criteria when it comes to these sorts of things."

"You don't find being locked into a simulation where we were made to feel weak from hunger or lack of energy as poor treatment?" Mettaton asks, his tone a bit skeptical. Still though, the questions Chara posed were valid enough to answer.

"I don't believe the Savrii deserve to die. But if they get in my way, I will act accordingly."

He should probably take offense to Chara trying again to turn his intentions on him. But he finds himself particularly unaffected by such. He can't quite explain it, but he doesn't feel the need to lay this game with them anymore.

He knows who he is. He knows where he's headed.

And speaking of where they were headed...they must have been close to the defensive line, because some distance away, he can see uniformed Savrii patrolling.

...Now would be when he decided if he would put up or shut up, he supposed. Was he really going to remove these obstacles? Did he have the strength of will to do so?

"Why not? It was nowhere near what you've doubtless endured prior to now, as you're constantly needing to remind yourself." It is a near thing. They do not particularly strike at the neck, but they comment as to the frequency of that little reminder that he employs nigh-constantly.

But let it not be said that they don't keep their word. They do, however, exploit the heck out of any and all loopholes there are available to them. Which there are plenty of, and always are. As is the case with all promises.

As is the case with certain system information that gets slipped out from between fingertips, dropped, mistakenly misplaced.

If ACT accordingly translates to a certain Level Of ViolencE, they daresay they may have to oblige. A filthy enabler, a dirty hacker - it's what they are, and what they've opted to embrace. Why push it aside?

"Because I will not sink to their level," Mettaton says resolutely, and the look in his eye as he glances back at Chara is not threatening, but it's not really the kindest either. He won't give them the satisfaction of knowing they've a point, and he only adjusts his scarf to hide the unrepaired damage to his neck segments.

"I'm not the sort to condemn those caught up in the machinations of others. Instead, let's save it for the Intermediaries, shall we?"

Empty threat; he hadn't taken Mother's blessing, so he couldn't enact violence around them. Why? He's still not entirely sure, honestly. Maybe he's afraid of fighting, despite feeling it was inevitable.

They'll have to stop for the moment, if you'll excuse them. Just for a moment, mind; it's ever so hard to walk in a straight line when you're caught up in that sort of rapturous laughter. He's struck them with a truly inconceivable one-two punch right then and there - between insisting he hasn't already sunk to their level and claiming that he's not one to condemn those caught in the machinations of others - gosh, he really is giving them a workout today!

"I suppose I needed that today." Their smile is as broadly cut across as ever, as inappropriate as the rest of them is by default, and the words are devastatingly bright. "I really should thank you!"

Instead, they turn with an unintentional flare of roughly-chopped hair, and mark their hard path for the reclamation depot.

"But I won't."

They're almost there.

Mettaton sighs in obvious disgust at Chara's behavior. Fine, if they want to laugh, so be it. He'll use his annoyance at them in more productive ways, such as dealing with the Savrii that had been alerted by their mirth. Not every citizen was of a race with basic senses, like humans.

Some had overly good hearing, and a child's derisive laughter is enough to draw attention.

Well then. Mettaton will do what he's meant to do. After all, he's here as the enforcer for a weaponless child, isn't he? Not what he set out to do when he exited his barely broken-in ex-home, but it is what he's doing now.

Chara is important to people. Chara...did help him when he'd needed it, whether they'd done it out of respect to him, to Asriel and Frisk, or maybe because they were being capricious. It was a debt that deserved paying.

So he speeds up his gait, enough that his long legs outpace Chara's stride just enough to confront any trouble head on, and as expected, there's a few obvious militia thrown in with the militarized civilians. As he said, he'll only kill if he must. But he can't deny the anticipation of such an outcome which causes the corner of his mouth to twitch. He feels nothing for them, as much as he wishes to, and as hard as he's forcing the ideology into himself that he can show MERCY.

A gun is raised. Several join it. He trusts Chara to be quick on their feet. Him? He can tank some shots, he's a robot. He'll...just have to ask if Tony will fix him again, perhaps.

They've picked fights with empty patches of air, bristling with a plastic smile and a weapon unfurling, a taunt, a challenge, a dare. Laughter, the best medicine of all. A pity it can't SAVE you once you're dead.

A true, true pity.

Someone raises a gun. They're going to fire, and Mettaton - he presumes himself a metallic shield or sorts, then? Or perhaps he's simply buying them time. All they truly have to their name, at the moment, is a shock prod and a handful of improvised weapons, knives pieced together from broken pieces of shrapnel and debris.

One of said knives is flung immediately. It misses its target, instead glancing off the militia's headgear, but it sets their aim off-kilter just enough so that the heat of the incoming shot will singe Mettaton's cheek instead of blowing a hole in his head. Doubtless the latter would have been an improvement, no?

"If you were planning to FIGHT," hisses the child as they dart past, the prod blitzing to life with a flare of static, "I would suggest you do it now."

Another hole in the head would hardly cause further problems, Mettaton doesn't believe so anyway. Still, he supposes that he ought to feel grateful that Chara's actions had saved him an early injury. And it did remind him that this wasn't a game to be playing.

His very first death since being torn from home had involved so many bullets, hitting so many vital functions that his own SOUL collapsed under the strain of maintaining a malfunctioning body. For that, he should probably thank Chara. Thanks for putting him back on point.

But he won't.

Instead, he moves forward more hastily, ignoring the sear against his cheek of the bullet as it ricocheted off his metal plating.

"Don't tell me how to do my job," he says coldly, arms extending past their usual lengths to force a pair of Savrii to the ground. Once he has them disoriented, electrical magic surges from his fingertips, running through the fighters. Armor was an excellent conductive material.

...But he stops short of actually killing them in favor of rendering them unconscious. Because he has to remind himself for a moment that this isn't what he set out to do.

He didn't set out to kill...right?

He did not learn the lesson Asriel tried so desperately to imprint into their mind, body, and SOUL: kill or be killed. Really, Chara? Did you learn nothing? Do what you will, then. Come back when you're ready to REALLY show people the true meaning of this world!

"Then do your job right the first time," Chara says, twisting around to ram the end of their shock prod into base of one of the security guards' spines. The guard contorts, weapon clattering limply to the ground.

He's being shown up by a ten-year-old. Is this really how he wants to go out?

It's not, and Mettaton's pride, tattered as it was, couldn't take another blow. He wouldn't hear this from Chara again. They weren't going to shame him even as he offered his assistance to them.

And so it went. He could never escape the inevitability, just as he thought.

"Just...shut up, won't you?" he says quietly, before pulling his arms close to himself, instead choosing to aim a kick at at the fallen guard he had so generously spared. The sound of neck bones crunching, snapping like broken twigs...perhaps that would sate Chara.

Perhaps it would convince them that he was serious about this.

He had to kill. If he didn't...

The noise would be attracting more guards, soon. They didn't have time to argue over methods.

They shame everyone, including themself, all the time, sir. Get used to it.

An improvised knife is little more than a jagged chunk of rebar, sharpened to a piercing edge, enough to cut through flesh and hamstring calves. A sharp pivot on their heel, and they slam the entirety of it in through the exposed chink of skin at one unfortunate's shoulder.

They utter a pained cry, quickly cut off by the insertion of a shock rod at their abdomen.

That's when one of them catches a fistful of Chara's hair.

They swipe - once, twice, thrusting great crackling arcs with their baton, but the angle is awkward, and the Savrii hastily loops one armored arm about their neck. They kick, slamming the heel of one useless shoe into his shin - greaved and shielded from bullets, let alone the kicking and flailing of a miserable child.

They'll try to bite him next.

Mettaton's hands are initially full with his own struggle against a Savrii guard that was even taller than he was, though they were still organic. Still weak to the power of a machine given life and murderous intent by the SOUL caged within its core. Arms wrap around the guard, fingers digging in hard enough that the gloves do not disguise the prick of metal claws as well as they usually do. Those very same clawed fingertips dig in past the armor, finding the faults and gaps to dig in and draw blood.

He can't stop himself from the brief smile that flits across his face as he causes the Savrii guard pain, making them try to thrust him away. But no, they could never push him away. He's done this enough. It's so easy to reach for that same, pathetic weak spot--the neck--and coil his segmented arms around it, crushing windpipe and vertebrae alike, until blood drips from the guard's mouth and nose from the pressure.

Once they're properly dealt with, Mettaton hears the struggle Chara is making, all grunts and failing limbs as they're held against their will.

He might not like him, but one wouldn't know it from the way he rushes the guard, aggression written across his face as he sweeps the Savrii's feet from below them with one leg--he always prided himself on those legs of his--and watched them topple. Doubtless, Chara would be just as off-balance by such an action, but it gives Mettaton the advantage for now, and he uses the moment of surprise to slam his heel into the guard's shoulder. Armor does not protect against concussive blows, and the gap between chestplate and shoulder plate? It's just enough that a heel can dig its way in, piercing skin deeply. Mettaton grinds it in hard, past skin layers and well into muscle. The sounds of pain were his reward.

"Drop them now," he hisses, as if it'd change his mind on whether to kill the guard or not.

It's what always happens. What always comes next. You misbehave, and you get something for it. You get a fist upraised, a mark across the cheek - a darkness to bruise that rosied hue. Violence, violence, violence...it's the only language that creatures like them truly understand. The only language that will put children like them in line.

The only language they know how to speak with any fluency.

Hot prickles in the corners of their eyes that causes them to bite their tongue (big kids don't cry) and the staggered, muted, near-silent hiss of air between their teeth.

They land heavily in the dirt. Where the dead things crawl.

Breath rasping, lungs pinching. Get up, get up. Stand. Get up and get moving, and stop pretending that it hurt. You're going to sulk now, is that it? You're going to pitch a tantrum over it?

Stop lying around and do something.

Spin around.

Get onto your knees.

Slam the makeshift blade into the guard's ankle with the hot crunch of muscle and bone.

(Your ribs will crack next. When the knife slips in easily, unresisting, that will be your reward. That, and the long, lonesome trek up a mountain from which travelers never return.)

How helpful of them. An extra blade is not remiss in this situation, though for his part, Mettaton is busied by kneeling forward, removing the guard's helmet, and find a new and creative way to inflict pain.

...Which meant he was falling back on old murdersport habits. You have to make it look good, otherwise you'll risk being made to do it by someone else. And Mettaton will not be controlled again. If any atrocities shall be committed in this body, they'll be by him.

It's going to be him digging his clawed thumbs into the Savrii guard's eyeballs, gouging them with merciless abandon and ignoring the screams--no.

No, he's not ignoring them. He's listening, and he's smiling, because it's fun. It is FUN! Because this he can do, and it doesn't really tug at his SOUL anymore, being so adept at causing pain and death, because you would need to be able to feel remorse, and he's so close to the point of forgoing such foolish emotions entirely.

Between both their efforts, the guard doesn't move after a while, as if they're trying to play dead.

Mettaton will not allow that. Like the other guards he'd dispatched, he takes great pleasure in smashing this one's neck. He doesn't break bones this time though. He'll let them suffocate as their crushed windpipe fails to supply air. Slow deaths are just as important as quick ones.

Just as unmerciful.

God, why had he thought to fight this? Why did he want to stop himself from fulfilling his purpose? Chara really did have the right idea. Do your job right, Mettaton. Do it right. Enjoy it.

Have some fun!

The child, for their part, is still kneeling where he left them, their breath sharp and ragged, their eyes wide and trembling with something difficult to define. The whole of them unshielded by that cold patina of LOVE crested over their SOUL, cushioning them from the hesitation that leaves the upraised blade trembling in response to the entreaty of please don't kill me.

There's the ugly crunch of eyes caving beneath pressure, the hot rush of red down the guard's cheeks. And Mettaton is -

Mettaton is -

They really have no honest perception of what it is that Mettaton is doing. They cannot say their perception of anything is terribly accurate at the moment - fingers digging into the dirt, shoulders hunching, bereft of the bubbling of LOVE that could muzzle this kind of pointless impulse into nothing.

Sorry, sir; if you're interested in speaking to Chara at this time, you'll have to leave a message after the tone.

Mettaton keeps an eye on them, and for however much he dislikes them, he offers them the protection that anyone would deserve. He makes sure that any encroaching guards that attack are soundly dealt with, either dead or close to it. It's only when the guards cease to storm them any longer that Mettaton stops.

Hesitates.

Finds himself past all the bloodshed, and remembers that he's not not NOT a murderer, he wasn't made for this, he needs to stop. Stop before it's too late ~~it is already too late~~ and do what you came here to do, you LOVE-filled shell of a monster.

He takes a few long breaths, his blood-coated but still gloved fingers clenching and unclenching. He has to focus on the matter at hand, lest he find himself lost in the abyss of his own self-doubt. Now is not the time.

Chara needs protecting--and more than ever now, because they appear...frightened? Disconnected, for sure.

For a moment, there's respite. He doesn't know how long.

However, what he does know is that Chara reacted with aversion the last time he thought to touch them. A boundary was set. He would abide it for now. So despite seeing how distressed they are, Mettaton kneels, close enough to be heard, but not prohibitively so.

"Chara. We must move. If you require my assistance to move...I can help you."

If they don't answer, he can't guarantee his frustration will be abated for long. Mettaton's not quite himself right now, and he knows the dangers that come with that.

A mess. They're making a mess. Making a mess, pitching a fit in the middle of the store, throwing a tantrum so that Mommy has to clean up after you. Is this what you want? Is this how you like to act? Are you happy with what you've done?

What are they still doing here?

The words hum through a dense fog pinched about their ears. Their gaze snaps to his, disconnected...skates away again.

There's an instinct they need to borrow. Press [x]. Get up. Keep moving. If the empty space jitters, if the world wrenches in that shuddering joct! of black and white, then whirl around, plant your feet, brandish your weapon, smile.

There's something running down their cheek, hot and wet. It's LOVE, with nowhere else to go.

The tremoring press of a thumb to the offending moisture is like drawing a line in the dust. Gone. ERASED. Like it was never there.

Stand, even if their legs shake as though it's another SOUL in another corpse, shifting puppeteered legs after years, maybe centuries, spent moldering in the dirt. Jerk one foot forward, and then the next. Do something as base and pointless as succeed in walking two steps without falling over. The demon that comes when people call its name, the destroyer of the same world, infinite times over, the future of humans and monsters, the child sheathed in scarlet and gold - incapable of so much as a word in anyone's direction. Hardly capable of even walking.

What a joke.

At the very least, they're moving.

Will that make him happy?

It doesn't make him happy, because in the state Chara's in, he'll probably be pulling double duty. Of course, that is what he'd offered. Blood on his hands already, he oughtn't stop now. Why, he'll just wait for an enemy to pose a threat and dispose of them.

That is ~~NOT~~ his function.

Quietly, he moves in front of them. Towards the actual entrance of the reclamation depot. Due to his...aggressive negotiations with the outer Savrii guard, they don't find much resistance while they're outside. Still, once they're in...all hell is likely to break loose. So he tells himself that whether they wish to be touched or not, if they pose a threat, he will have to do what must be done, and hope they don't compromise this entire mission.

You set boundaries, but you don't follow them. How good of you, Mettaton.

No, this was different though. He was saving them if he picked them up and took them away from harm.

Whatever he has to tell himself, right?

It's immediate, churning, swift. A blink, and they're there. A blink, and they're inside. Sliding through like water over oil. In. Security either doesn't bother to stop them, or recognizes a potent threat when they see it, and don't dare engage. So that leaves them where they are - in. Carding through belongings. Fingertips resting atop the chain of a Locket, twining into the links of gold, the spools of a beautiful lie to which they were fed - a lie they believed.

Slip it on over their head until the cool weight of it loops around their neck, chill against their chest.

* Right where it belongs.

The Knife - the Dagger, now. Removed from their grasp, it's a worn, unremarkable thing. Perfect for cutting plants and leaves. Their grip fastens around it, and the change inches slowly across the worked steel; gray metal sheeting to crimson dappled with swirls of shimmering white, the dull metal gleaming with motes of red and white speckles of light.

Like dust.

* About time.

There is no change. There is no drape of subtle realization that sparks deep in their SOUL. There's only the phantom sensation of fingers digging into their scalp, the wrench that jerked their chin back as a fistful of their hair held them captive.

It's time to go.

Mettaton lets Chara lead after a while, because even if he doesn't spearhead their modest resistance, the way he carries himself is extremely aggressive; murderous, even. He's going to help this child get their things back, and no one is going to stop either one of them.

Once they find the items, he quietly observes as Chara quietly settles the locket around their neck, and regards the transformation of the knife in their hands.

Suddenly, everything feels as it should. Chara with a knife, with that locket...that was as it should be, and although his LOVE outstrips theirs, he has enough respect to know that they were not to be toyed with. Humans are such frightening creatures, truly. Perhaps he'd been right to worship them, for a time.

"Let's go," he says while mirroring their thoughts. "The sooner we are out of here, the better."

Let's go.

They might as well. Where else do they have to go, but down? Down, but not out. They never go out. That is not a privilege of a demon who ghosts after consequences. And these - these are theirs. Their blame. Their consequences. Their everything.

Let's go.

So they go.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Breakout and Beyond: September Plot Log

the escape

A World of Peace

Points of Interest

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cw allusions to child abuse

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took a lil break but TIME TO WRAP i think lol

yea we can wrap here