Mask or Menance IC Contact Post

[failureisntachoice]

[ An automated voice speaks because someone hasn't bothered to set up a proper voicemail. The only part in her voice is her name. ] You have reached Agent Texas. Leave a message at the tone.

Comments

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[fuckai]

[The first thing Alpha had done, upon realizing he was online somewhere other than the Mother of Invention, was figure out where the hell he was. And that was... well, it was simple enough. Even though it didn't make sense. Florida. In some city that wasn't matching up with historical records even when the state still existed.

The second thing he did, was search through the main network for any names he recognized. So far, there were three. Leonard Church was-- well, it was the first one he looked into. And it was jarring, hearing the voice he'd settled on back when he was first allowed to run. But it wasn't the Director, that much was for goddamn sure.

So, he turned to the other two names. Agent Texas and Agent Washington. Out of the two of them, only one really made sense, as far as contact went. After all, one of the first things the Director had made clear to him was that he was to have limited (which really meant no) contact with the Freelancers. At least until it was decided who he would implant in.

Which is why, just minutes after the life of every imPort went to hell, (and after a full minute or so of frantically wondering just how the hell you actually start a conversation with someone you're not actually supposed to be talking to-- not that that's stopped him before, but. You know. There's some basic programming he's going around, right now) he's sending a text through to her comm.]

Agent Texas?

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[failureisntachoice]

[ There he is. She's been running into change after change all day and after she heard from Epsilon not too long ago, she's making her way back to the house. Epsilon hadn't heard from Alpha, but Wash and Tucker sounded disoriented yet fine from the AI's accounts. They'd manage fine without her.

It's Alpha, Church, that she's concerned about and thank fucking god he's texting her. Even if that's a weird as hell greeting for him to use. ]

Church? Are you okay? Epsilon messaged me a bit ago, sounds like things have been going to shit for more people than I thought.

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[fuckai]

[Church? Why is she calling him Church? It's strange enough that he's pausing for a millisecond, letting the bewilderment wash over him for a moment before shrugging it off, figuring its something he can ask about later.

You know, after he figures out what the hell is actually going on here.]

I'm fine, but I think someone tried to give me corrupted history files or something. Where are we? What happened to the ship?

[....]

And who the hell's Epsilon?

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[failureisntachoice]

You're fucking kidding me.

[ That text is sent before she can stop it. Of course he'd be hit too. Of course. And he's not fortunate enough to remember any of this bullshit which means he's somewhere on this damn planet. Alone. Which means she needs to find him and make sure he's all right. ]

Are you at the house? If you aren't, send your coordinates.

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[fuckai]

[He can't help but laugh to himself at Tex's overreaction-- at least he thinks it's an overreaction. Of course she's already taking charge, already demanding information and answers. It's reassuring to see something so familiar in the middle of all this weirdness.]

Uh. Hold on a second.

[For the first time, Alpha focuses outwards, skimming across the system he's in and finding out it's armor. From there, it's easy enough to get access to the GPS system, absentmindedly sending Tex his coordinates (he is, indeed, in the house). But he also takes it one step further, flickering into being through the suit's projection capabilities.]

So who thought it was a good idea to bring back Florida?

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[failureisntachoice]

Some assholes. We're not in the 26th century anymore. Hold on, I'm on my way over.

[ He's on familiar territory which makes this easier. She had already been en-route to the house. With the way the day's gone, she had been half-expecting to be chasing him halfway across the nation, but like hell is she complaining.

Church will have to wait a bit as she speeds through the final few blocks before their house. ]

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[fuckai]

Yeah, I know that much. This network has more holes in it than Carolina's practice targets.

[Look. It's said to hopefully get Tex to lighten up a little. Even across text she sounds like she's about to put her fist through the wall. How could he know?

Still, until she gets here, he might as well get used to his surroundings. Which he does by stretching that projection as far as he can, flitting around the room like some kind of hyperactive moth, trying to figure out just whose room he's in.]

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[failureisntachoice]

Might have to do with everyone freaking out.

[ There's a small delay before this next text comes in: ]

Have any data saved from those practice targets? I never got to see how chewed up she made them look.

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[fuckai]

The time switch? Thought that was the-- [Oh. Hold on. He knows this one. It's that... thing. The... Porter? Yeah, he remembers something about that. Like he remembers snow and ice and another AI. Russian?

But he doesn't know how he remembers that. He knows that wasn't him, at least.] Porter, right?

[He hesitates, at this. He's not supposed to share these files. Hell, he's probably not supposed to have them. Not really. The Director liked keeping everything locked up tight, where only he could find it. Too bad he tended to try and keep Alpha stored up with everything else.]

Yeah, sorry. No. Don't have it with me.

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[failureisntachoice]

It was something all right. Not sure if it was that or some other bullshit going on.

[ The porter would make the most sense with the other crap it could cause on a regular basis. Something of this scale though...

It's above her technical expertise and pay grade sadly. She has enough fires to put out just helping out with damage control. ]

That's a shame. ETA is two minutes.

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[fuckai]

[It's weird, being able to talk and move around without risking the Director or the Counselor coming in. Being able to talk to the Beta program for longer than a few scattered minutes, in between the tests and routines everyone had him running what felt like every few minutes.

It feels like a weight is being lifted from his shoulders. Even if he feels like he's going to hear the Director's voice yelling for him any second now.]

This isn't combat, you don't have to give ETAs. [He's wandered back to that cobalt blue armor he woke up in, inspecting it a little more thoroughly, now.] Oh, and by the way-- what the hell is going on here?

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[failureisntachoice]

I gave you an ETA so we can talk about this in person. [ Though if he doesn't remember anything that's happened here, what else has changed? ]

You still have your body, right?

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[fuckai]

The point I'm making is it's not like I'm going anywhere.

[Quite frankly, he doesn't trust any of the technology here to fully support him. At least not yet. Otherwise, he'd be zipping around and probably going to her, instead.]

... body?

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[failureisntachoice]

A hulking suit of armor that should be painted some shade of blue. You have it, right?

[ He damn well better. If this fucking place took that from him...

She's about to find out. If he's listening, he'll hear the sound of the front door opening and her slamming it shut before rushing upstairs and towards his location. ]

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[fuckai]

[Oh. This thing. This weird suit of armor that's both more advanced than what he's used to, but also a step behind Freelancer Agents' suits. It's a... strange in between.]

Yeah, I've got it. But why is it a body? It's just UNSC power armor.

Great color, though.

[But, when Tex comes upstairs, she'll find his little avatar sitting in midair, just staring down the motionless armor as he waits for her.]

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[failureisntachoice]

Because you can install yourself in it and move.

[ Which he will see first hand as she storms his room, fully armored and staring right at his projection. What the hell is he doing? ]

What happened to you?

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[fuckai]

Theoretically, yeah.

[He'd been about to add something to that text, drumming pretend fingers against a pretend leg as he tried to think just why Tex would think he needed to do that.

But then, the lady in question is stomping her way into the room, and he turns the armored head of his avatar in her direction. Somehow he manages to look bewildered, if just in his posturing.]

Why are you asking me that?! I just woke up here!

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[failureisntachoice]

Because you used to be installed there. [ She motions toward the armored form. The nontransparent one. But he thinks he woke up here? Goddammit. What else has he forgotten?

There's a moment of quiet as she studies his projection. The fact that he's actually doing that and not flipping out says a lot.

Quietly, ] You don't remember anything?

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[fuckai]

What? In that? It should barely be considered mobile!

[Something tugs at him at the drop in Tex's voice, the way she asks him that. He should tell her everything he knows of the Freelancer project, the Mother of Invention, but somehow... he knows that's not what she's asking.

There's a flicker of something, though. Some strange ache in his memory. Something he should remember, but barely does. Almost as if it was a dream, if programs could dream.]

Nothing but some fucked up history. [At least his language has always been colorful. They have the Director in his youth to thank for that.]

[failureisntachoice]

[ She stares at him for a while longer before stepping closer to his hologram and removing her helmet (does he even remember the fact that they have bodies beneath the armor?). That tells her nothing because a lot of their history falls under the category of 'fucked up.' ]

You're going to have to be more specific than that. [ There's a brief pause as she looks at his inert armor back to his hologram. ] It's mobile enough.

[fuckai]

[As Tex takes off her helmet, that hologram gets to his feet. He's about to start forward, to tell her not to, to somehow get her to stop because he doesn't know what the Director put under that armor, but he knew it wasn't a person. Not... a person like she would remember being. And he doesn't want that for her.

But then, the helmet is off. And he's staring at her-- skin and hair and a face, and he has to pause because that's-- he knows that's not how it was. AI development was still new, still a military secret. The UNSC wouldn't just make bodies for them, their lifespans weren't worth the cost.]

Uh. [He's caught between answering her and demanding to know what the hell he was looking at, teetering one way and then the other until finally, he decides to fall back on facts. On what he knows, rather than the thing he can't explain.] I remember everything I should?

I'm program designation Alpha, implemented to assist Freelancer Agents in ending the war as quickly as possible. Meant to assist the functionality of suit implants in the field. [He hates how clinical that all sounds. But hey, if she's asking.]

You're Agent Texas, top of the leaderboard. The Director's ace in the hole.

[The Beta AI. Allison.]

[failureisntachoice]

[ That's... He's willing calling himself Alpha. Does that mean...?




Just when she thought there weren't any more curveballs that could be thrown at her today. Her helmet is set down on the surface of a dresser. Is it even worth explaining? If everything gets fixed, solved like it always seems to, then he'd at least have a few days of understanding who he was without the damage that's been done.

He deserves at least a few days.

It hurts as she forces herself to maintain her composure, her expression remaining carefully neutral as she regards him. She nods in confirmation. ]

Yeah, I am. People tend to drop most the syllables and call me Tex. [ A beat then, ] You don't know how you got here?

[fuckai]

Tex? I didn't think of you as a nickname type. [But despite what he's saying, there's clear amusement in his voice. Just as there's a little more energy, a little less anger and broken edges.]

No goddamn idea. [Oh. Wait.] Unless you're counting the corrupted files I'm dealing with. Lots of half images, weird familiarity with things. Like this.

[He flickers out of existence for a second, only to reappear standing on the discarded armor's head.]

The color means something, I think. But I don't know it. Same with that Porter people keep talking about.

[He might have been picking apart the Network while he was waiting for Tex to show up.]

[failureisntachoice]

[ She manages to keep herself from rolling her eyes. 'Tex' isn't far of a leap if she's going to going by codenames anyway. ]

It works better than Beta. [ And less conspicuous. She eyes his hologram as it moves. ]

What corrupted files are those? And if you mean the color of the armor, it doesn't have much purpose besides decoration. The porter is the piece of junk that brought us here.

[fuckai]

[There's a mixed moment when Tex says her AI designation. A second where he would be grinning, if he had a mouth to do so. But at the same time, there's a hint of unease. Since he's... not sure if she should really know that. He never was told the full scope of what the Director laid out for her.]

Right. Yeah. Sure. Better than Beta. [At least he still sounds amused.]

And I dunno. Files. Shit about a Florida that doesn't exist. Cities that don't match up. People who aren't in the Freelancer Program. [He's facing Tex fully now, tilting his head to the side as he regards her body again.] What the hell is going on? I mean really going on.