ReedRGale
Inkling Commander
@Aykorn
@Hesoca
Wade ==> Talk to Him
"Can you hear me?" Wade asked, as his mouth quickly filled with liquid. The words drowned out as his vision filled with the blackness again.
Not real. He knew that now.
He could still see his mirror in his hand and, if he focused, he could return to…
His house again, still in the past. But now he was right at the door and he knew that it didn’t lead outside this time. But it was precisely because of that that he opened it.
This was an unfamiliar house. Poorly lit hallways. A clean living room with two parents babbling about… something. Their son? Worry? Definitely worry. They worried as they watched nightly television. Some news channel with a peppy Inkling feeding out riling words.
No interest in reality or truth.
...
That… wasn’t Wade’s narrative. Those weren’t his thoughts. This wasn't made from his memories. If it wasn't his then was this Jax’s?
And that room down the poorly lit hallway… that was Jax’s wasn’t it?
Wade tried to call out to the parents and ask, but it felt like he was speaking underink. Sound came out, but it just didn’t travel right.
Would he even be able to say anything to him?
Well… he had to try.
Wade walked up to the door he felt Jax in and knocked. “Yes?”
Wade meant to say something about Jax’s state. Meant to say something about the tunnel and the ooze and Max and getting out of here and--
“Honey,” a female voice asked, soothingly. “Why not come out here? You’ve been cooped up in your room for days.”
“Mom,” a familiar voice returned, “I’m fine. I’ve just got a bit more until this article is complete.”
“There’s more to life than--”
“What do you know?” The voice Wade remembered as calm and collected, for once--and so rapidly--filled with malice and ire. “You and dad. You’re both happy with how things are. The world is wrong mom!”
“Jax dear, I…” Wade took a deep breath. “What do you think you’ll even be able to change?”
“Well… if people know, then they’ll do something about it! They have to.”
“Dear, people don’t just act because they know something. Most will just ignore it and go about their lives.”
“Like you?” Venom lashed out from behind the door. Wade was hurt in the way only a parent could be about a son who was just like themselves when they were younger.
“I--”
The narrative ended there. What was supposed to happen was the mom would walk away. Probably crying. Jax never knew for sure.
Something was wrong. This was where fact ended. Wade could feel something was amiss. Jax was twisting things in his own head.
“I know how to be happy at least.” The tone change was jarring. “You know that people won’t change and you keep acting. The world you want can’t exist.”
“You don’t know that!” The real Jax. Talking to a memory.
“I do, honey. I tried, dear. In the end, protesting and rallying doesn’t change anything. The underlying problem is--”
“Stop!”
“--is people don’t care as long as they get to keep living their lives. There is no happy ending for you. All you’re doing, playing around as an Agent, dinking around as a detective, pretending to be a security guard as a janitor… you’re just delaying what peoples’ nature is causing.”
“Shut up!”
“People aren’t worth it. Just give up. Be happy.”
“No! I won’t! I'll fight. I… it’s not worth it to just be happy! I can’t let things end that way. Never. No!”
Wade struggled. This was not his narrative. He had no place to be here but… he was here. He had to try to say something right? And to stop parroting these self-destructive thoughts. Right?
He could do something… right?
Wade pushed to stop lipping words that weren’t his own. The liquid stifling his words was thick, like caramel flowing down his throat. Could he cough it all up? Could he speak? He had to, he had to, he had to!
He had to fight. He will fight.
> Struggle (Savvy + Athletics)
> No Modifiers.
> Dice Pool: 7
> Successes: 1
It took all his might and effort but some of whatever it was came up. The hateful words of Jax’s pseudo-mom stopped, if briefly.
But he only had a moment before it came back. He knew that he could only control his words for a moment. Maybe a few sentences.
Wh-what do you do?
"Can you hear me?" Wade asked, as his mouth quickly filled with liquid. The words drowned out as his vision filled with the blackness again.
Not real. He knew that now.
He could still see his mirror in his hand and, if he focused, he could return to…
His house again, still in the past. But now he was right at the door and he knew that it didn’t lead outside this time. But it was precisely because of that that he opened it.
This was an unfamiliar house. Poorly lit hallways. A clean living room with two parents babbling about… something. Their son? Worry? Definitely worry. They worried as they watched nightly television. Some news channel with a peppy Inkling feeding out riling words.
No interest in reality or truth.
...
That… wasn’t Wade’s narrative. Those weren’t his thoughts. This wasn't made from his memories. If it wasn't his then was this Jax’s?
And that room down the poorly lit hallway… that was Jax’s wasn’t it?
Wade tried to call out to the parents and ask, but it felt like he was speaking underink. Sound came out, but it just didn’t travel right.
Would he even be able to say anything to him?
Well… he had to try.
Wade walked up to the door he felt Jax in and knocked. “Yes?”
Wade meant to say something about Jax’s state. Meant to say something about the tunnel and the ooze and Max and getting out of here and--
“Honey,” a female voice asked, soothingly. “Why not come out here? You’ve been cooped up in your room for days.”
“Mom,” a familiar voice returned, “I’m fine. I’ve just got a bit more until this article is complete.”
“There’s more to life than--”
“What do you know?” The voice Wade remembered as calm and collected, for once--and so rapidly--filled with malice and ire. “You and dad. You’re both happy with how things are. The world is wrong mom!”
“Jax dear, I…” Wade took a deep breath. “What do you think you’ll even be able to change?”
“Well… if people know, then they’ll do something about it! They have to.”
“Dear, people don’t just act because they know something. Most will just ignore it and go about their lives.”
“Like you?” Venom lashed out from behind the door. Wade was hurt in the way only a parent could be about a son who was just like themselves when they were younger.
“I--”
The narrative ended there. What was supposed to happen was the mom would walk away. Probably crying. Jax never knew for sure.
Something was wrong. This was where fact ended. Wade could feel something was amiss. Jax was twisting things in his own head.
“I know how to be happy at least.” The tone change was jarring. “You know that people won’t change and you keep acting. The world you want can’t exist.”
“You don’t know that!” The real Jax. Talking to a memory.
“I do, honey. I tried, dear. In the end, protesting and rallying doesn’t change anything. The underlying problem is--”
“Stop!”
“--is people don’t care as long as they get to keep living their lives. There is no happy ending for you. All you’re doing, playing around as an Agent, dinking around as a detective, pretending to be a security guard as a janitor… you’re just delaying what peoples’ nature is causing.”
“Shut up!”
“People aren’t worth it. Just give up. Be happy.”
“No! I won’t! I'll fight. I… it’s not worth it to just be happy! I can’t let things end that way. Never. No!”
Wade struggled. This was not his narrative. He had no place to be here but… he was here. He had to try to say something right? And to stop parroting these self-destructive thoughts. Right?
He could do something… right?
Wade pushed to stop lipping words that weren’t his own. The liquid stifling his words was thick, like caramel flowing down his throat. Could he cough it all up? Could he speak? He had to, he had to, he had to!
He had to fight. He will fight.
> Struggle (Savvy + Athletics)
> No Modifiers.
> Dice Pool: 7
> Successes: 1
It took all his might and effort but some of whatever it was came up. The hateful words of Jax’s pseudo-mom stopped, if briefly.
But he only had a moment before it came back. He knew that he could only control his words for a moment. Maybe a few sentences.
Wh-what do you do?
@Hesoca
Max ==> Resist
Fight. Resist. Stop. Give up.
Different commands wrestled through his head and body as he tried to figure out what to do. The darkness was closing… no, no it was the miasma. That was the mirror’s fault.
But it wasn’t--
But it was!
It had to be! There was no other explanation. There couldn’t be. This darkness, the stifling hall, the mirror. The mirror was the only thing that stuck. The mirror had to be taunting him.
Okay.
Well then.
He’ll show it.
He couldn’t--
He would!
Max stopped pulling at his tentacles and began to punch the mirror again. It was impossibly hard and he could feel it against the ground, bouncing as force traveled through its reflective surface.
Occasionally he struck straight into the solid earth… earth? This wasn’t soil this was--
Miasma. Obviously.
Max continued punching the mirror until the sound changed. His strikes went from a dull reverberating sound to a clanging cacaphony of metal on glass.
What caused--
No. The punches were stronger and that’s all that mattered.
Max continued pummeling this mirror into the ground. Over and over and over and over and over and…
> Attacking the Mirror (Athletics + Dexterity)
> Modifiers: Rage (+3), ??? (+2),
> Base Pool: 12 ==> Dice Pool: 17
> Successes: 12 - 100 ==> -88
Another. And another. And. Another. And. another and another and and
Max was tired now. If this had been anything else... anyone else... they would have been a stain on the inking floor! But...
There had been no shattering sound. The mirror was still there. Even in the dark, somehow, he could see the crying face. Even here, this plain mirror stood its ground. The miasma surrounding Max continued to close in.
He fell over.
Dammit.
If not the mirror… then at least this darkness. Something. Some way to fight back.
Something...
> Fight the Miasma (Savvy + Charisma)
> No Modifiers.
> Dice Pool: 6
> Successes: 2
Gently, Max could feel the miasma press back a little. He’d just willed it, begged it, and it pressed back. The mirror was still there, but now Max could feel the pressure ease, if just a tiny bit.
Whatever he had done had created a metaphorical bubble of safety with him at the center. No… it was literally a bubble. To protect against the enclosing darkness there was now a sphere of… well something around him. And somehow he knew he’d made it.
Hah.
He was tired. The mirror looked at him with weepy eyes.
Still wanna struggle?
Fight. Resist. Stop. Give up.
Different commands wrestled through his head and body as he tried to figure out what to do. The darkness was closing… no, no it was the miasma. That was the mirror’s fault.
But it wasn’t--
But it was!
It had to be! There was no other explanation. There couldn’t be. This darkness, the stifling hall, the mirror. The mirror was the only thing that stuck. The mirror had to be taunting him.
Okay.
Well then.
He’ll show it.
He couldn’t--
He would!
Max stopped pulling at his tentacles and began to punch the mirror again. It was impossibly hard and he could feel it against the ground, bouncing as force traveled through its reflective surface.
Occasionally he struck straight into the solid earth… earth? This wasn’t soil this was--
Miasma. Obviously.
Max continued punching the mirror until the sound changed. His strikes went from a dull reverberating sound to a clanging cacaphony of metal on glass.
What caused--
No. The punches were stronger and that’s all that mattered.
Max continued pummeling this mirror into the ground. Over and over and over and over and over and…
> Attacking the Mirror (Athletics + Dexterity)
> Modifiers: Rage (+3), ??? (+2),
> Base Pool: 12 ==> Dice Pool: 17
> Successes: 12 - 100 ==> -88
Another. And another. And. Another. And. another and another and and
Max was tired now. If this had been anything else... anyone else... they would have been a stain on the inking floor! But...
There had been no shattering sound. The mirror was still there. Even in the dark, somehow, he could see the crying face. Even here, this plain mirror stood its ground. The miasma surrounding Max continued to close in.
He fell over.
Dammit.
If not the mirror… then at least this darkness. Something. Some way to fight back.
Something...
> Fight the Miasma (Savvy + Charisma)
> No Modifiers.
> Dice Pool: 6
> Successes: 2
Gently, Max could feel the miasma press back a little. He’d just willed it, begged it, and it pressed back. The mirror was still there, but now Max could feel the pressure ease, if just a tiny bit.
Whatever he had done had created a metaphorical bubble of safety with him at the center. No… it was literally a bubble. To protect against the enclosing darkness there was now a sphere of… well something around him. And somehow he knew he’d made it.
Hah.
He was tired. The mirror looked at him with weepy eyes.
Still wanna struggle?