redshiftrp | [viedo] - open - username: det.patch

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[viedo] - open - username: det.patch

[ Patch thinks she's figured out how to broadcast to the network from the terminal screen in her room. She actually begins transmitting before she realizes, and there are a few candid moments of her checking settings along the edge of the screen, clearing her throat, running one hand through her hair and sweeping a few stray strands of her long bangs back behind her ear. ]

Hello, Anchor. My name is Detective Patch.

We've, ah, been through a lot these last two weeks. I can't be the only one who's had to suspend a lot of my disbelief to wrap my head around this place. It feels unreal. Part of me want to embrace that, to cling to the assertion that this can't be happening, and let that be a comfort. I don't think it'll be productive, though. I think our best method of accepting any new situation is to connect with others in the same situation.

I know, easier said than done. Opening up is never easy, especially to a stranger... so I'll go first.

[ She takes a deep breath. ]

I died. Back home. I was shot in the back - good shot. Center mass, a little left of the sternum. I bled out quickly. It didn't hurt much. I never really dwelt on the idea of my own violent death, but I always knew there was a strong chance of it in my line of work, and I knew that a gunshot would be top of the list of possible causes. I'd always assumed it would hurt... so much more than it did.

[ She takes another deep breath. ]

So I died, which I was... sort of prepared for. Then I woke up here. I was not at all prepared for that. I'm still not. I don't know if anyone else here has had a similar experience, has died in their own world. I don't know if anyone else is having trouble processing it. If you are, you're not alone. Which also means that I'm not alone, and I have to tell you-- that's a comforting thought.

If you'd like to talk about it, I'd-- like to hear about it. Maybe we can help each other.

[ A beat. She clears her throat again, and her posture gets a little bit straighter. ]

Maybe we can all help each other. The most important thing for us to remember, for us all to remember, is that we're not alone in this place. We're not going through this alone. We can get through this. We just need to take care of one another.

If there is anything I can do for you. If you need someone to talk to, or you want to go looking for something but you're afraid to go on your own, I'm here for you. Literally right here.

[ She uses both hands, index fingers extended, to point down at her feet, and the floor she's standing on. ]

I'm in room zero-two-zero, if you'd rather talk face to face, or if you need in person help with something else. It doesn't matter if we don't know each other. I still want to help.

[ And now she's not sure what to do. Other than end her broadcast. So she nods her head, just once, and offers the camera a little hopeful smile. ]

All right. Detective Patch, signing off, and... hoping to hear from you.

[ Then her hand reaches out toward the camera, right above the screen on her wall, and her feed goes dark. ]

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Hey Detective. This is Deputy Pratt of the Hope County Sheriff's department.

[The voice sounds worn, low and gruff. Exhausted.]

Dying never gets easier. But getting shot is better than starving. Its quicker. Doesn't hurt as bad. Even if you bleed out, you know that cold feeling right before it goes black? It's that but stretched out for days.

Silver lining in all this? We never have to do paperwork again.

I've died three times.
You don't get used to waking up again. You think you might, but you don't.

[ Patch laughs. It's the chuckle of commiseration. ]

You sound like a-- friend of mine. You know something, though? I didn't really mind the paperwork that much. I liked knowing that my attention to detail, my willingness to do the whole job, no matter how boring parts of it were, was going to help keep my community happy and safe. I think the key is to not let it pile up. I could handle a few hours of it each day, it was when it started eating an entire weekend that I ended up wanting to throw my stapler across the room.

[ Then, after a bit of a pause. ]

Do you know from first-hand experience? About starving to death?

I'd hoped, more than honestly believed, I think.

How did it happen, if you're comfortable talking about it? If you're not, I completely understand. Please don't feel pressured.

[ Ben agrees with all the stuff Patch says about the importance of all helping one another and remembering they aren't alone; he appreciates this post is an offering, a gesture of openness to encourage similar gestures. And he knows he is overdue for a talk with her. But he doesn't feel up to public openness right now. So his response is sent directly to her, for her eyes only. And for once, he doesn't hide behind just text. This needs to be face-to-face.

His expression is solemn in the video; he cuts right to the chase: ]

Detective Patch. I'm really glad you're here. We need to talk.

[ Someone a little more socially savvy would ease into the conversation, introduce himself, build up to the heavy stuff. Ben is not that person. He plunges right in without even saying his name. ]

First, I want to thank you for saving my brother. I'm sorry that it got you killed. I hope you know that- that it mattered, what you did. I think you're the only reason he survived, so... you ever need anything, you just tell me, okay? I'm in your debt.

[She's never talked about it before. Not really. The fact it's by text makes it easier by far.]

Before here, I was in a place called Hadriel, but before that was The Box. They would try to kill us, there. Or to make us kill each other.

The first time I died, I got caught in a flood and impaled on a tree. The second time, I drowned trying to save someone out at sea. The third, somebody staked me through the heart. I didn't mind the last one as much.

The paperwork doesn't keep people safe, it just keeps the government happy so they can reduce what we do to numbers and metrics.

Yeah. I do.

I'm not dead back home but I'm close. An hour, maybe two tops. I'm not even really conscious anymore. So I guess I won't feel it when I die. Bad enough I had to feel my organs shut down. Because thats a thing I didn't want to experience.

Hey, so.
We've got a shit ton in common.

[ Drake's not the type who's willing to disclose a trauma over the network, and he'd accepted his first real death before he'd even actually died... but he does also know what it feels like to not expect it, and Patch asked for similar experiences so here he is. If she wants to hear the whole story -- stories, really -- he'll swing by in person. ]

I'm sorry that happened to you.

[ Pratt's dropped enough specific information already that Drake has realized he is, in fact, someone he knew in Hadriel. The question is if Pratt knows him -- after two years of those antics Drake is certainly familiar with people coming back and not remembering a thing. So far everyone he's recognized has recognized him back, but since he's not sure he's just going with a text for this. Make it a little lower pressure. ]

This might seem like a weird question, but have you ever built a shooting range on an alien planet?

I would argue that if proper paperwork keeps a violent offender behind bars, rather than getting them released on a technicality, then it does do its part to keep the community safe.

[ She will not argue this point strongly, however. It's not the purpose of her post, and there is no paperwork here, so it's a moot point at best. Still, his reaction will tell her something worth knowing. So she'll see what he says, and if he ends up coming back with one of the responses that she's sadly all too used to, she will let it drop. ]

I'm not sure if I'd make the trade or not. To know that it's coming, to have time to put my affairs in order, or to go quickly. I suppose there's no winning option.

That sounds unimaginably horrible. I'm so sorry for what you went through.

Why did you not mind the last one as much?

[ Patch is curious if it's for the same reason that she herself is glad that the bullet found her heart. ]

[ She's confused. It probably shows, at least a little. She pushes through it, though. ]

You're welcome, of course. You're another of Diego's brothers?

[ He must be. She's only died once. ]

There isn't any debt. I appreciate the offer, and the sincerity of it, more than I can say, but you do not have to feel any obligation to me. I did my job. I'd do it again... even knowing what I know. [ Huff. Wry smile. ] I'd bring a hell of a lot more backup, but I'd do it again.

[ He seems to know her. She doesn't know him. She's trying so desperately to place his face, but she can't. She supposes he could be Number Six, but Number Six has been gone for a long time. He was gone long before Patch ever even met Diego. ]

I am so sorry, you seem to know me... I don't recognize you. Please forgive me if we've met before. I'm usually so good with faces, but I can't-- place yours.

Is what happened to me part of the shit ton we have in common? If it is, then I'm also sorry it happened to you.

What else makes up a shit ton? If you don't mind satisfying my curiosity.

Yeah. Bullets aren't what actually killed me, but I can tell you from experience with both that you got lucky with the chest shot taking you out quick. Gut shots are agony.

I don't mind, I had time to process in the last place I was in.
Waking up here, not so much yet.
But it doesn't go over great to an audience. You up for company?

I'm duct taped to a chair.

I'm not really gonna put much of anything in order.

Is it on fire? Because I'm not crawling back to Hadriel to fix it up. I knew someone was gonna torch it after I died....

Who's this?

There's kind of a disturbingly high amount of people who either died back home or died in other places they were stuck in before they got here. Never understood why or how it happens, but it is what it is I guess.

Which isn't good news at all, but you're not alone either, at least?

Drake. 6', brown hair, weird dietary restrictions? I helped fix it up after the stampede.
Wasn't sure you'd remember.

Why would anyone torch it?

Company sounds nice. I'd say I'd put on a pot of coffee, but...

[[OOC: actual log post is here for all your awkward face-to-face death talk needs.]]

[ Well, not the best reaction, but certainly not the worst. It gives her a place to start, anyway.

And, most importantly, not the reason she put out the call. ]

I'm sorry. Is there no chance that someone might find you?

[ Duct taped to a chair and dying slowly, yeah, definitely enough to traumatize a person. ]

There might be no explanation. Or their might be some common thread we can discover together. My father used to say that broadening our understanding of the world around us broadens our understanding of self. I believe there's some merit in that.

Some people like to say that no news is good news. I've never understood that. Logically, I know what they mean, but I've never been able to find where the comfort would be in it. Personally, I'd rather know.

Knowing that I'm not alone is a good place to start. You're not alone, either.

Not a chance.

But that's kinda beside the point since I'm here and not there. Stuck in another place to .. atone or some shit like that. Maybe.

I'll get back to slow starvation eventually, but I'm trying to not do that again, so I've been checking out the kitchens. Not a lot happening there. But there's some food growing up top. Berries and lettuce and stuff.

Smart guy. That's something I'm going to have to remember.

See, I'm the kind of person who thinks that everything has an explanation. It's just not always obvious, sometimes you have to go digging for it. I've just never had the opportunity to go digging for it, sooooo it's on my to-do list.

And thanks. It seems like people tend to be really supportive about this kind of thing.

[He'd only told like four people in Hadriel what had happened to him, so he hadn't had like a huge circle of support, but it still totally counts.]

Because everyone seemed to want to test out flamethrowers on it.

And then there was Taako.

Being.. you know... Taako.

I do remember you.

Why the fuck are there so many of us? Is this Hadriel part 2? Are we on the Null homeworld or some shit?

[continued here]

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