outer_divide | 003 ⌥ VIDEO -- saturday night

[And here's Shepard, out in the fog but you can tell she's walking briskly (presumably back toward the Flop) by the slight rhythmic sway of the camera. But she has SOMETHING IMPORTANT TO SAY, so listen up.]

If you hear this, you need to get inside and keep your door shut. There's something in this fog--the residents are all clearing the streets, and I think I saw a few putting on gas masks.

I repeat, if you hear this, you need to-... [A pause in which keeping a straight face seems difficult, and then she's busting up laughing.] You need to put on a skirt and stand on your head or something, because shit, I don't get why the hell you all listen to me, anyway. [By 'listen to' she means 'generally take orders from', and she distinctly remembers it making sense an hour ago, but now she's had an epiphany and it's fantastic.

Meanwhile, she tames the laughter down to an ecstatic grin, and in a tone that ~~probably~~ definitely makes you wonder what she's planning next and if you should duck and cover, she offers just two words:]

Shepard out.

[End transmission.]

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Why not? Your legs broken?

[She starts swaying, a serene smile on her face.]

Hey.

Hey.

Hey Shepard.

Get off the ground Shepard. Fucking primordial slug ooze is everywhere.

[Yes this is Stephen sitting on a rock, with his gun, looking like a cat who has been in the nip with his eyes so dilated. Probably not wise to sneak up on him. Seems he thinks the nearby vines are alive and dangerous. He's probably emptied at least on clip into them. But he snickers slightly under his breath.]

You should- You should see your face right now. I've never seen it do that.

[Yeah, he's lost it. He's on his back, back on the ground, cracking up.]

[She nearly cracks up just at 'hey hey hey shepard', but carefully pulls together a sort-of-straight face, lifting her chin with a 'make my day' sort of expression.

At his warning of the sludge ooze, she's actually looking down, and is more confused by the fact that there isn't any than she would've been if there were.]

Shit's invisible. [But then he's falling off the rock (he was on a rock before, right? she can't remember), and he's cracking up, and while it's so hard not to just crack up too, she's socially obligated to chew him out for laughing at her. Or something.]

'Course you haven't, asshole. [But it's the kind of 'asshole' that's meant more in amusement than offense by far.] You don't know me, r'memeber? It was all some big crazy island dream back in the goddamn pod with shooting shit and-... and owls and shit.

Makes me wonder how they do it, y'know? [Don't misjudge by her slightly more coherent words--she's totally twirling slowly down the street right now, you just can't tell on audio. (Nobody can see, she ~~thinks she~~ made sure.)]

[A grin!] Hey, Doctor.

Are you a real doctor?

Nahhhh. I don't even know if they can break.

Nine of them?

Mine can't. Got my long fall boots on.

[She bends down, waving the camera at her white boots with the springs coming down from her calves.]

Long faaaaall boooooooots. Long faaaall booooooooooots!

[And now she's singing.]

Wouldn't be so hard, for someone with a strong enough mind. Learn to filter out the extraneous noise, focus on what's important, and the rest becomes nothing more than a backdrop. A baseline. Constant. The hum and chatter of everyday life, like guideposts.

[Did that make sense? Welp, it did in his head.]

[A long pause as she thinks about it, really thinks. Then:] ...Sounds awful familiar, when you put it like that. [Not the telepathy part, but the suppressing-something-foreign-in-your-mind thing.]

[And Shepard's laughing again.]

I wonder if anyone has a microphone. We need to get you one.

[He swears in yet another language. It vaguely means, 'The government leaders want it', so even if she knew what he was saying the meaning would probably be lost.]

не! Iie! Wǒ bú yào...

[He throws up his hands in frustration. He knows what he's saying, why can't he settle on the right version of it?! So he makes a motion at his face, makes a motion of a gas mask, and points at her. We should get one.]

[with a crooked smile] That depends on your definition of real, honestly.

You're a real commander, yes?

Oh, pfff. You don't know. You've got the smallest possible idea, with all that empty space around it. Don't try to trick me. I can see it.

[At this point, she can't tell if he's not speaking English or if he is and she's just tripping the hell out. But something about it's really funny to her, so she's trying and failing to resist the urge to crack up laughing again.]

[It's a good thing it's audio-only; Shepard's tilting her head and biting her lip a little, an amused rendition of an expression that can only be described as 'oh yeah, tough guy?'

When she speaks, she's just the tiniest bit more lucid.]

I like how you pretend you know me. It's real cute.

Hell yes I am. Where'd you think I got my funding? [...And then a brow-furrow and slight curl of the upper lip, because she has to clarify:] At first, anyway. Then I was dead, then I was undead, and now I'm an intergalactic terrorist. [Totally casual. Almost chipper, even.] Officially, anyway. But they let it slide 'cause I keep dragging their asses out of the fire.

I know you've grown up around war. That it's been all you've known for a significant portion of your life. I know you think of yourself as a leader, not only because of your title or because other people seem willing to follow you, but because of the responsibility involved. I know you've lost people: too many people, more than most soldiers, even high-ranking ones. More than friends.

[Pause, then with a low laugh, almost teasing:] ...oh. Don't tell me it's that simple.

It's not. But nice try.

[Don't get her wrong, he's totally right. On all of it, actually. But that's like reading the back cover blurb and saying you read the whole book. Everything he said stems from the simple fact that she knows war. Responsibility and rank, losing the people you love... That's war for you, plain and simple.]

So this 'life-story' thing, is that... what, a hobby? I hope that's not your paying job.

[Still laughing. He's not finished yet.]

He never knew. Maybe you didn't, either. Not until it was too late.

Who? [Her brain's still muddled and to be honest she's kind of on the verge of busting up giggling despite the ~seriousness~ of the conversation, but she manages to sound 'together' enough for this exchange at the very least.]

You tell me, Commander.

[A sigh like he's settling back, getting more relaxed. He's managed to hold back his laughter for the time being, but this is all being said through a smirk.]

It'd have to be someone on your squad. You'd barely have a social life outside of it, probably none at all. Someone you'd been working with a long time. He would have had to sneak in under your radar to get behind that so carefully-guarded military wall. Even once he did, you would have kept your distance. A close watch. Cede nullis, or however your military puts it.

Has he actually died yet, or have we managed to avoid the inevitable?

Everyone should hear my song. No one's around out here, though. Probably because the fog makes you silly.

[The mirth is gone now, completely and thoroughly. And for a good ten, maybe fifteen seconds, there's silence.

And then she lets out a harsh breath of laughter, but it's definitely not the euphoric kind from even five minutes ago. Harshly:] Goddamn it-- [And she's looking to turn the device off, abrupt as it might be, but god, she can't even process how right now so it's just a bunch of buttonmashing and fumbling so go ahead and get your last few jabs in, you smug smug asshole.]

I told you it's the fog! What happened to the part where you didn't believe me?

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003 ⌥ VIDEO -- saturday night

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