luministi | ♜ 2

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♜ 2

[waking up suddenly in his townhome, Washington couldn't help feeling a mix of disorientation and confusion. one, he doesn't remember falling asleep, and two, of the many things he's been through and done, sleepwalking has never been one of them.]

[the luxury of having rather nice quarters has let him get used to sleeping in comfort, though the quality of the sleep itself has always--and remains--questionable. today's random sleep would have been no different if he hadn't been on the library roof the last time he had been awake. other than that, he feels rested but the images and memories he can still see in his mind... really, they're not exactly different from some of the things that go through his head normally, but those things have never quite left physical evidence of the kind that he's looking at now.]

[he sits up, removing his helmet to examine the cracked hole left in his visor and can't help letting out an annoyed sigh. how he was going to fix this without the proper tools and components... at least the resulting hairline cracks made from the bullet-hole--a wound he definitely couldn't feel after a cursory examination of his right temple--didn't obstruct his HUD readings or immediate line of sight. technically, anyway. the glare coming in the nearby window, he discovers after putting the helmet back on, bothers only his exposed right eye, lending credence to that extremely short moment of pain that he can remember feeling before... before he died. the question of how he can be alive outweighs the one about who shot him. he knows his murderer can't be the one he thinks it is since that man is most definitely back home. and if he was there, the whole town would be in danger even with the lack of AIs.]

[as he turns his CAT on, a flash of an image pops up in his mind, one he didn't quite expect. his eyes shut in an involuntary wince before he opens them. considering what happened to him a few weeks ago, he can't quite trust his mind to be thinking 100% clearly. he has to know if his assumption is correct.]

[anyone looking at him now on the video communication will see a blue eye and the hint of a light-skinned face beyond the broken glass of his helmet visor]

A question for you all before I ask for a report of the current situation: have you seen a man dressed in white armor similar to mine with a domed helmet?

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You look like you've had better days, Agent Washington. But your description doesn't sound like anything I have seen while being here, outside of your own unique appearance.

[his eyes scan over the damage to the helmet visor.] That looks rather nasty. [this right here is his concerned face.] Are you all right?

[dryly] Well. That's good news then.

[his eye flicks over to glance at the broken edges around the bullet-hole] What, this? I'm perfectly fine. Never felt better after being shot, actually.

[Well, the cracked helmet is certainly alarming.]

I haven't seen anyone like that, no. Are you alright? What happened?

[he nods upon hearing affirmation of his thoughts]

Considering what happened to me, I'm more than all right. Usually these things involve a lot more physical therapy and bed rest--but for a head wound, one would think a day's rest would hardly be sufficient.

[His eyes narrow a bit. Head wound, visor broken only in one corner...]

You were shot in the head, and you survived? Only a day's rest? [He pauses, pursing his lips. He really doesn't like this.] I guess if I can come back to life in twenty-four hours, then maybe a good night's rest really would fix something like that here.

[lets out a small, wry laugh] That would be a good assumption--if I really was resting for a day and had survived. But no, gunshot wounds through one's eye does tend to lead directly to death.

[... Sigh.] Yeah. I thought as much.

[He rubs at his eyes with one hand - yeah, he's still having a little bit of trouble with the whole dying-and-coming-back bit himself.]

What do you remember? Just the man in the white armor?

[amazingly, Wash isn't having too hard a time. he's nearly died numerous times; it was bound to stick eventually.]

Believe it or not, I was on top of the library when I just...collapsed. I didn't see him or anyone else right before then, but for some reason, I remember being in a fight with him and he got off a lucky shot.

Next thing I know, I'm waking up back here and my mission clock says it's a day later than it should be.

Sounds familiar.

[He holds up his wrist, sleeve pulled down so Washington can see the mark.]

... Without the memory of a fight. I just... slept.

I see. And you were a human canvas for a couple minutes as well, I take it?

[he severely doubts that the same thing could have happened to him--the armor can be a bit tricky to get on and off, and that's a lot of effort just to draw a little symbol. but when he looks down at the back of his left hand, he sees this carved into the armor. between the bullet-hole and this, Wash is starting to get annoyed by the needless vandalization of his armor.] ...And so was I, apparently. [holds his hand up to show Croix]

[Have a small wince in sympathy - if anyone did that to Croix's armor, he'd be pissed. He leans in, studying the mark, and then shakes his head.]

Apparently. And I have a feeling they're not just for decoration, either. [He sighs.] I just wish I had an idea of what it could be.

No, no, I don't think so either. Things around here seem to be done with some kind of purpose in mind, but what that is seems to be only pertinent to those running things as well as those who are trying to interfere. Us not included, of course.

Are you the only other one who has died and come back to life, Croix?

Of course. [He sighs again.]

I'm not sure. I haven't heard anyone else say anything.

We're just that special then, aren't we?

What else has gone on in my absence? Anything of interest?

Unfortunately, it seems like we are. [He shakes his head, but at least he manages a hint of a smile.]

In only a day? No. Everyone's still investigating what they can.

Hmm, disappointing. I expected better. [glances at the mark carved into his armor] Guess I'll just have to find the person responsible for this myself. [he planned to already, but he figures he might as well state his intentions now that it's become personal]

Yeah. You're not the only one looking.

[Though his is a little less of a personal motive. Yes, he'd like a little bit of revenge (justice, really), but more importantly, he doesn't want to see this keep happening to other people.]

When I find out more, I'll let you know.

Considering the people around here? Yeah, I don't doubt that.

[he nods] Good. I look forward to it.

[Okaaaay, that doesn't look like a good sign.]

I'm assuming your helmet isn't supposed to look like that.

[Yep, that's totally relevant to the question asked.]

[he stares for a second, his eyebrow raising slightly before he answers in a flat tone:] No. No, it is not.

You're...one of the new kids in town, aren't you? [he remembers him as one of the ones Braxatiel asked him to look after]

Yeah, I just got here not too long ago.

So what happened to your helmet?

So I've seen. You've got some good people concerned about your well-being in this place.

[oh Willis. Wash is so not the type of person to sugarcoat something even if you are a kid.] It was shot. And with it, my head.

... Uh huh. [He doesn't entirely sound convinced.]

Don't people usually die after that?

[ah well, he tried. honestly, he doesn't particularly care himself.]

They do and...I did. And now I'm back. Funny how life in this place works.

[... Huh?] So you're a ghost? Or does this city just defy the natural laws of everything?

[firmly] No. There's no such thing as ghosts. [his regular business-like tone returns] From what I've gathered about this town, certain...principles are tossed out the window from time to time, and this time must be the universal law about death.

I'd ask how that's even possible, but that seems rather redundant considering the fact that you're... obviously... alive.

[So baffled.]

Exactly. [and you aren't alone in the bafflement]

Moving on. I am Agent Washington. What's your name?

Oh! I'm Willis. It's nice to meet you.

[he nods in reply] Is that a last name or a first name?

Uh - that would be a first name.

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