[open: tw for blood, mind fuckery, suicidal ideation] I guess it's over now

[dr_awesome]

Before:

He just needed something fun. That's what he's been telling himself. After nights of various unpleasant dreams being hijacked by his friends, and then being forcibly shoved into everyone else's weird nightmares like a far less fun version of the Matrix, Watts needs a break. He's not helping Sans with his science. He's not trying to wander the castle and have conversations with people that more than likely are annoyed by him. He just... needs some stupid harmless fun.

And when there's no gaming consoles or wifi in the castle, you have to get a little creative.

Apparently, Neil's codes aren't completely useless in the castle. Sure, he can't reset memories, disable speech or taste, turn off his visibility, or even lure out mementos, but he still has some skill with manipulating data.

He's found a nice little private space in the lounge, and passersby may find him focusing very hard on a patch of air in front of him. Literally a patch, it seems to jut out from the rest of the air, shimmering and shuddering in front of Neil's hand. Eventually, it grows and morphs, changing colours... and in another instant, there's a tabby cat letting out a loud meow as it's suddenly dropped from the air back down to the ground.

"Haha, yes!" Neil gets down to his knees, scratching behind one of the cat's ears. The cat surveys him and lets out another mew.

"Hm... not exactly up to my usual standards, but I'll have to make do. Now, what else can I try..."

After:

Neil's still in the lounge... it's just that now there are more of them.

There seem to be a literal crowd of scientists slouching around the lounge, leaned back on couches, staring out windows, walking in place. They're all mumbling to each other, some of them more clear than others. One of them smiles at a double of himself as you walk past.

"Well, I suppose I had a good run."

The other stares back at him. "Not good enough, it seems."

There's one that has cornered another Neil against the wall, constantly slamming his fist into the doppleganger's gut. "It's how people blew off steam before FPS were invented," he reassures you with a grin.

Still more snippets can be heard if you push through the crowd. "We always succeed, because we're awesome." "The geezers just keep getting crazier..." "I'd be screwed either way."

In the center of the group is Neil. The real one, not buzzing in and out of existence in bursts of static, but... he still doesn't look good. He's curled up on himself, nails digging into the floor, feebly coughing and hacking as blood dribbles down his jaw and onto the collar of his shirt. A few copies of the same woman stand around him, looking down at him with the same mixture of annoyance and apathy.

"Tell me what you see." One says, holding out a pill bottle. She takes off the cap and holds it upside down. Nothing falls out.

"Shut... just shut up." Neil mutters hoarsely, and another one laughs, answering in his own voice.

"'Shut up' isn't my name, you know."

He tries to pull himself away from them, crawling along the floor.

"Why are you working so hard for this? 'All this trouble, just for some girl.' That's what I thought you'd say."

One of them finally turns to look at you, and moves so she can block Neil from view. "Get out. This ain't a movie and you're no hero. You're just being a moron."

There's more coughing from behind her, but Neil doesn't seem to be trying to move anymore. There's no point, is there? He's fucked up enough here already. And he didn't want to be here anyways...

"Why would you waste time like that?"

Yes, why would he? Being here isn't doing himself any good. He's not going to fix his machine, he's not going to make any advances... all he's doing is running out his clock.

Might as well let the batteries die a little early.

Comments

[dustless]

It's a pity this is Frisk, and not some other more easily-led (or perhaps the right word would be misled) child.

"...Dr. Watts. What's the matter?"

[dr_awesome]

"It's nothing, okay? It's not something a kid should worry about. I don't want to be a jerk, but I really need you to go."

He wheezes in between sentences, his hands rummaging through his coat pockets.

[dustless]

One hell of a lie.

"Who should I get?"

That's going to be the only way they're going to take off--if they can get someone to help.

[dr_awesome]

"You don't need to get anyone, k-kid. I... can..."

His hand jerks out of his pocket, and a bottle clatters to the ground. Judging by the hollow sound it makes, it's completely empty.

"No, no, no no no..."

[dustless]

They don't know what that is exactly, but it's definitely some kind of medicine--they slip forward and snatch the bottle up--and oh, wow, that is blood on his lips--

"Can you--can you--make more of this stuff?" Frisk waves the bottle in one hand, waves their bag of chips in the general direction of Goku in the other, even if they realize that might not be the best idea. Getting medicine wrong can make things worse than sickness can. Though coughing up blood is certainly pretty bad on its own.

[dr_awesome]

That is indeed blood, blood that he tries to wipe away and only ends up smearing on his sleeve. He makes a face, letting out a soft groan before turning bleary eyes back to Frisk.

Make more? How is he... right. Right. It's worth a shot at least... He raises a hand to try to manipulate more of the data, but the pills don't completely materialize. They float, transparent in midair, and as Neil tries once more, the only reward he gets is another violent coughing fit.

[dustless]

Frisk shoots over to physically press against his side, because--because--that's the only thing they can think of to do.

"It's okay, it's okay, you can do it," they say when--if--the coughs start settling down. "Pay 'ttention, stay determined."

[dr_awesome]

Didn't he tell this kid to leave already? He can't push them away now, too weak, doubled over so far he's almost collapsed. He wheezes helplessly, the air around him pulsing, but nothing seems to properly form. Blood drips onto the floor from his open mouth.

[dustless]

"Gotta do something, gotta gotta," Frisk mutters. They're stronger than they look, but they aren't sure if they can properly support his weight...

Well, they try anyway. He won't do much better if he lands on the floor. And they sort of duck, trying to see if he bit his lip or if the blood's coming from somewhere--deeper.