longlasting: (so's you know I can go with the flow)
[personal profile] longlasting posting in [community profile] castle_perrault
Adam Brooks is one for following the rules.

Not the inherent rules set out by law enforcement and people he is far above, no. Those are all based on an unwavering idea of morality that Adam refuses to see as productive. No, he's one for following the rules his mind has constructed in order to further himself towards a goal. These are rules that are based on his observations of the world around him, ones that make sense and help him make sense to others.

The rules help him look like a normal person. They're honestly quite helpful in a place like this, where Adam doubts his appearance would be taken well. Barnaby certainly hadn't taken it well, but Adam couldn't imagine any scenario where he would. It's not everyday your brother comes back from the dead, after all. That is, regrettably, a rule Adam has had to break.

But other rules have been easier to follow. They remind him to remove Barnaby's clothes so he can wear them as a disguise, without anyone asking about any regrettable blood stains. They remind him to walk like his brother and talk like him instead of screaming for revenge. He is cautious and careful.

Kotetsu will be found first. He needs to check on him and gain his trust immediately, so that he has someone to back him up. To laugh off his strangeness towards other prisoners in this strange castle as social ineptitude. Toshi will be found afterwards, with Kotetsu still at his side. He doubts his disobedient slave will rebel for a second with Kotetsu already in his grip. He'll be sweet and kind to both of them, just as Barnaby would. Follow the rules. Soon enough his opportunity will come to strike.

So those who are around the hallways may see someone very much like Barnaby walking over to his room, straightening his clothes before peering inside in his search for Kotetsu.

After his reunion with his dearest partner and the android made in his image, 'Barnaby' will be all over the castle. He adores the library as much as he always has, and seems to have picked up cocking as well. He is deliberately careful to stay quiet and calm, so only those with a sharp eye will notice anything strange. For example, that bunch of berries from the garden can't be used as an ingredient in his soup, right? They're poisonous... Some may find it odd to find him coming out of the armoury with a crossbow, or practicing violin in the music room.

Or perhaps you may catch him wandering up the stairs leading down to the basement late at night. What would he be doing down there? Surely it's not a bad thing to ask.

((Okay, let's see if I can get this asshole to cooperate with me this time! Adam Brooks is impersonating his brother, Barnaby, and will be friendly to most everyone he runs into, if a little forgetful. Should anyone notice his odd behaviour, though, he may be forced to do something not so nice... so a trigger warning for possible character mutilation and death in here, as well as psychological mindfuckery which happens with a character like Adam. Should you not want him to tag you, please message this account to let me know!))

(no subject)

Date: 2017-05-14 10:15 pm (UTC)
mettaton_rex: (that dog's a bomb!)
From: [personal profile] mettaton_rex
Mettaton will be furious with himself, later, for not reacting fast enough. But when 'Barnaby' steps away, the relief as that tension in the air eases slightly delays his realisation that there's something very wrong in the human's words. Not until the door clicks shut is it clear to him just how much trouble he's in.

He could blast the door open, but not with not-Barnaby standing right in front of it. (My brother is here - not an alternate-timeline double, an actual twin.) He won't stand a chance against a human this powerful in EX form, with his damaged core. The switch on his back is accessible even under the layers of fabric, he made sure of that, but if the human sees him reaching for it - if he makes any sudden movements -

He doesn't want to die again. He especially doesn't want to die in this room. He can live without ever going into the library again, but don't let him lose this one.

He sits up, taking it slowly, lowering his feet back to the floor with a feigned casualness that he knows won't be fooling the human for a second. But the longer he plays this game, the longer he can put off the inevitable. Keep talking. Try to catch him off-guard. It's all the plan he has.

"Oh, I see. Well, don't you worry, beautiful, my lips are sealed." He makes a little zipping motion across them to demonstrate. "I know how it is, having - copies wandering around. So awkward."

(no subject)

Date: 2017-05-17 11:15 pm (UTC)
mettaton_rex: (and now you're going to die)
From: [personal profile] mettaton_rex
The way Mettaton's eyes widen at the sight of the gun should tell Adam all he needs to know. It's the second real gun he's ever seen, he thinks, irrelevantly in his terror. And the first one he's certain has actual bullets in it. He has 9 DEF. In the hands of someone with that much LOVE, it'd be a one-shot kill.

But there are worse fates than temporary death, it turns out. Such as whatever the human plans to do to him with those 'few tools'.

...what he seems to think he has a perfect right to do. Can I trust you, as if there's any chance in hell that Mettaton will follow along compliantly and let himself be mutilated.

Who does he think he is?

Mettaton feels his temper flaring and embraces it, welcomes it, surging fury pushing aside the sickening, paralysing fear. He may not have much pride in himself left any more, but he's not going to sit here and take this.

"Well. Aren't you charming." His tone is icy, and he glares venomously at the human as he gets to his feet. "If we're taking this elsewhere, let me slip into something more comfortable."

And on that note, he reaches back and flips the switch, transforming into classic form with a puff of smoke and a ripping of fabric (and oh yes, making him ruin that suit is going on Fake Barnaby's list of offences, too). He's not invulnerable like this, not anymore, but he can still put up a fight.

...unless he gets shot before he's finished transforming, that is.

(no subject)

Date: 2017-05-19 10:59 pm (UTC)
mettaton_rex: ([box] killing machine)
From: [personal profile] mettaton_rex
He can't deflect the shot completely - even in this form, he only has half the defense he should have - but the attack that would have torn his EX form apart only seems to graze him, rocking him backward for a moment. Impressive, how quickly he regains his balance on that one small wheel.

Most of the damage isn't physical. Which would be a distinction without a difference for any other monster, of course. Mettaton's expecting the pain but it still hits him hard, that chill that surrounds the human focused down to a point and targeted straight at him. He can't help letting out a staticky little gasp, as he rights himself and launches a jagged stream of lightning bolts in return.

"Hhh... my, you really are merciless."

Like that's news to anyone here.

(no subject)

Date: 2017-05-25 10:07 pm (UTC)
mettaton_rex: ([box] who needs x when you've got y)
From: [personal profile] mettaton_rex
"That too."

He twists out of the way of the next shot, and it only clips his arm - dodging may not come naturally to monsters, but Mettaton's already learned the hard way that things are different on the surface. Even that much still hurts more than it has any right to.

Mettaton has a goal in mind, too. And as much as he'd love to, pun intended, teaching this creep a lesson isn't it. Those hits knocked a little of the fury out of him. He might win if he stayed to fight, but if he lost, the best he could expect would be a slow, ugly death for the second time. The worst -

- well, he'd rather not dwell on that. The point is, his goal is right there. The human isn't blocking the door any more.

"But you're not getting your hands on me that easily! Toodles, darling!" He raises his own hands, and a row of mini-Mettaton bullets descends from the ceiling, each of them blowing a heart-shaped smooch toward not-Barnaby in his hiding spot. That should keep him busy. Mettaton races for the door.
mettaton_rex: (that dog's a bomb!)
From: [personal profile] mettaton_rex
Mettaton hears the yell and braces himself for another shot - it'll be fine, he can take another hit, he just has to get out of this room and then maybe he can lose the human somewhere in the halls -

- he isn't prepared for the grip around his wheel.

His internal stabilisers do their best, but fantastic as they normally are, he's going far too fast to stop.

He spins round on his pivot, hands grasping at the air in a frantic attempt to find purchase on nothing. It would probably look comical, to an outside observer who couldn't hear the terrified, staticky shriek he lets out as he does it. Or the awful metallic clash as he hits the floor.

And then he's lying on his back staring up at the

monster not-a-monster on top of him pinning him down claws raking at him pulling him apart closing tight around his core around his SOUL

ceiling of the music room. His display is solid red. If he had eyes right now, they'd be unfocused, gazing horrified into nothing.

He has to get up.

His hands push against the floor, but they're shaking too badly to do anything useful at the moment. Even if they weren't, getting upright again in this form is an awkward process. It would take time he doesn't have.

It's over.

The human has him right where he wants him.
mettaton_rex: ([box] killing machine)
From: [personal profile] mettaton_rex
Mettaton stops struggling altogether once the human holds him down, fighting back another cry of terror. No no no. Please not again. It's that smile more than anything else that drains the strength from him. That vicious, awful grin, the embodiment of the malevolence thick in the air.

He knows exactly what a smile like that means.

...he's been the one behind a smile like that.

The human picks up the bow and Mettaton doesn't understand for a second and then he does (or he assumes, at least). A weapon that does less damage. That takes longer.

(After what you have done. I want you to suffer.)

Please. He doesn't say it out loud, some final scrap of pride remaining, along with the cold certainty that pleading for mercy won't do him any good.

(Normally they'd start beggin' by now.)

The bow pierces straight through his hand, cruel intentions lending it strength. How far it goes into the floor is another question, but Mettaton doesn't dare try to move that hand to find out. So much intricate machinery in hands. So vulnerable. Pain shoots all along his arm and he lets out a strangled whimper, despite himself.

"W-what are y-you - what do you want?" Better question than what are you going to do to me? Sounds less helpless - as though there's any possibility the answer will involve anything Mettaton can do to save himself. Still means more or less the same.
Edited Date: 2017-06-06 06:53 am (UTC)

(no subject)

Date: 2017-06-16 10:41 pm (UTC)
mettaton_rex: ([box] killing machine)
From: [personal profile] mettaton_rex
So much for bargaining. Mettaton feels a little sick with himself for even trying. He makes a point of not crying out as his other hand's impaled, denying this creature at least that one small pleasure.

And then he's alone.

He can't have long. Not-Barnaby wouldn't have left him alone if there was any risk of him being rescued.

Get up get up get up. He has to try, at least.

He retracts his wheel and tries to raise his upper body from the floor again, tipping himself upright. But his arms can't lift him more than a few inches before the pain in his hands stops him, delicate mechanisms inside them catching on the bows. If he tries too hard he'll tear them apart, he's sure. If he uses his legs as well and extends his arms maybe he can sit up but then he'd still be pinned down, if he were in EX form he could pull out the bows with his teeth but he can't change back like this -

- this can't be happening. There's got to be a way out please let there be a way out of this what did he do wrong -

Footsteps outside, and that chill in the air. He lets himself drop back to the floor, realising a moment too late that the clash as he hits the ground will give away what he's been trying to do. But it doesn't matter. No matter what he does, he doubts there's any real way he can make this less painful.

(no subject)

Date: 2017-07-17 07:02 pm (UTC)
mettaton_rex: ([box] killing machine)
From: [personal profile] mettaton_rex
He still struggles, at first, as the human flips him over and starts prying him open. He protests. Eventually, despite himself, he pleads.

But none of it will help. And fighting back is only going to get him killed, and getting killed is only going to leave his body in the hands of this creature for three long days. (My brother is here, he'd said. 'Is', not 'was', and if he's trying to replace the real Barnaby... well, Mettaton assumes he'll have found out about the three-day rule by now. He won't learn how wrong he is until it's far too late.)

He doesn't want to switch off. The only thing worse than feeling everything the human does to him would be not knowing. But eventually, helpless, hopeless, he lets his mind start to drift away into the stars.

The old family tradition. Lights and space and calm and falling water. Not horror and pain and hands inside him invading and cutting and switching and changing -

- he can't stop feeling them. Not really.

He can't stop hearing that tune. That hum.

He can't stop any of it.

But it ends, just when he's sure it's never going to. It ends.

The human asks him a question, in that casual tone as if this has all been a bit of routine maintenance, and Mettaton raises his -

- he tries to -

- he -

"- can't move." The words are faltering at first, coming back from a long way away, but that doesn't last long as the reality of it hits him. "Wh-what did you - why can't I - what have you done to me?!"

(no subject)

Date: 2017-08-21 10:50 pm (UTC)
mettaton_rex: (that dog's a bomb!)
From: [personal profile] mettaton_rex
It surprises Mettaton that he can still speak, as well, once he's thinking clearly enough to question it. But the human's words explain that quickly enough. Of course he wouldn't have found a command to turn Mettaton's voice off, there's nothing to turn off, but that means -

- and he barely has a chance to finish that thought before he's suddenly moving. No. His body is moving. On its own, without his input. A distinction that shouldn't have ever been made again.

He struggles, locked inside himself. Nothing happens. His body switches itself back into EX form, and stands, and watches fake-Barnaby with a look of dull horror fixed on its face. His face. The face he's inside of, banging on the metaphorical walls and screaming.

He can't scream out loud. Can't even open his mouth. The human really did shut it for him, a thought that would have driven him to a fit of hysterical sob-laughing if only it could.

Why why why why why how could you do this what kind of person would -

- he remembers Chara, standing at the edge of the tower. Remembers Ryoji, gazing up at him in adoration. Feels sick and cold, the realisation quelling his hysteria.

What kind of person, indeed.

"...what -" He can make his voice come from the speaker in his chest, if he tries. It sounds distant and tinny and wrong and he never wants to hear it again, and he doesn't want to know the answer to this question anyway. But he will, soon. He won't be able to prevent it, to protect himself, any more than he can even move his hands to cover up the cracked pink heart embedded in his midsection.

"...what... are you going to... use me for?"

The room lurches around him as he struggles to speak. This is not happening. He can not have just asked that question.

(no subject)

Date: 2017-09-30 10:58 pm (UTC)
mettaton_rex: (realised I was... not the best)
From: [personal profile] mettaton_rex
No choice at all. If his struggling from the inside has any effect, slows him down for a second or two, it's not noticeable. It might just be that he isn't able to move fluidly yet.

He could probably launch some more bullets, he thinks, but against a human this powerful? All they'd do is make him angry, and the best outcome there would be a different kind of bullet right through Mettaton's SOUL. He doesn't want to think about what the worst would be.

...he can't stop thinking about what the worst would be.

All he can do is follow.

(no subject)

Date: 2017-10-02 08:05 pm (UTC)
mettaton_rex: (that dog's a bomb!)
From: [personal profile] mettaton_rex
Of course, Mettaton thinks numbly as the trapdoor opens. All the terrible secrets are hidden downstairs in the darkness, aren't they? Seven little coffins for six little bodies. Lost friends, twisted and fused into nightmares.

He suspects he knows who he'll be guarding, even before he starts to hear that laboured breathing. The real Barnaby has to be somewhere.

Still, the sight of him there, chained and bleeding, would stop Mettaton in his tracks if only it could. He lets out a strangled cry of horror through clenched teeth, even as he follows his captor into the dungeon like an obedient pet.

(no subject)

Date: 2017-10-05 07:00 am (UTC)
mettaton_rex: (and now you're going to die)
From: [personal profile] mettaton_rex
Mettaton tries as hard as he can to shoot a venomous glare at his captor. Oddly enough, he doesn't buy for a second that Barnaby is the one in the wrong here.

(He never did this. He's been cruel, he's lashed out for petty reasons, taken his bitterness out on anyone who dared get in his way at the wrong time, but... but he never had anyone tortured. There were lines he didn’t cross -

- oh, were there? Remember Frisk? Remember your hand at their throat?)

"You..." It's deeply uncomfortable to talk like this, still, like writing with the wrong hand. If that hand was the only part of your body that still belonged to you. Everything inside him feels defiled. "You think... I'm going to help you? Without question?"
Edited (forgot my own continuity >_<) Date: 2017-10-06 12:51 pm (UTC)

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