castellae | Ongoing PSL - In-game setting

[ It's been weeks. The longest either of them have been on Earth without regrouping at the Bunker to report information. Perhaps it's been due to the lack of quality reception. The weather has taken a grim turn, bearing nothing but heavy rainstorms and floods. It's caused success to slow down, and it's been better to just stick around and gather physical data and log information for the time being. It's also left them not doing much. ]

[ 9S couldn't be happier. It means more quality time with 2B, more time to enjoy the scenery and truly observe everything to his heart's content. At the crack of dawn, he's already powered up. ]

Rise and shine!

[ 9S waltzes over to 2B, tapping her shoulder. ]

C'mon. We're gathering City-related intel. I got word from some Resistance members that they found a ton of old newspapers and articles scattered near the central area.

[ In the end, it always comes back to her prime directive.

The weeks have practically flown by, leaving 2B time to grow comfortable in the arrangement she has with 9S. Physical affection has never, ever been her strong suit, but she finds that it comes more and more naturally every time they decide to engage each other on that strange, intimate level that humans seemed to by all counts revere and revile. She knew going into this that she was being careless, that she was making a mistake.

But 9S had been worth it, worth all of her selfishness. Worth all of the pain, and the sorrow, and the goddamn beauty of it. 2B had somehow convinced herself that this time might be different, that this time, she wouldn't have to end it... But even then, she knew that that was a convenient lie.

When the order comes from Command, cool and smooth like it usually is, 2B is caught off-guard. The deep, pervading darkness that has for so long rolled and boiled in her gut finally prevailed over the tiny pinpricks of hope that she'd clung to, wiping them out entirely and leaving her with that cold, leaden feeling that always extends to her fingertips every time she hears the Commander's voice. Every communication between herself and the Bunker feels like a potential death sentence, but as of late, she's always been spared the terrible, heartrending command...

Until today, of course.

She didn't have the heart to approach 9S from behind. She couldn't do that to him. Instead, she took him to their spot, deep underground, in that field of Lunar Tears. It was there that she held him close, tender as ever. Eerily cold.

For the first (and last) time, 2B told him she loved him. Her processors only hitched for a split second, her internal systems maintaining equilibrium.

9S had picked up on that quick, pulling away from her. Looking up at her face. He'd called her name in questioning, but in the end, she was still an Executioner model. Her blade pierced his chest quickly, missing its fatal, intended mark only because her hands were shaking. 2B swears she hears a woman sobbing, and she wonders where the sound is coming from. It takes her several seconds to recognize that she herself is the one gasping for air, tears streaming down her face from behind her visor. ]

desire.

[ 2B knows better than to think that these things don't happen in cycles, even when she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that there isn't any way she should be awakening in this strange, quiet place.

When she opens her eyes, all she sees is white, clean and blinding. She almost thinks that her optical cameras are malfunctioning until she vaguely makes out the shapes of tall, elegant columns lining the enormous room she's in. As she sits up, she realizes that she's on a platform that extends forward as far as the eye can see, though its sides aren't flush against the wall; large pits flank either side of the walkway, and when she peeks her head over the edge, she sees that they go down forever, with no discernible end. As 2B stands, she takes in a breath that feels stolen. She can still feel the clean slice of A2's blade and the relief that had come in the knowledge that the Bunker wouldn't be able to bring her back to complete her prime directive for the umpteenth time, just as keenly as she can see 9S' expression crumbling at the sight of her, impaled and dying.

Something inside of 2B shifts at the thought, painfully clenching. The sound of footsteps interrupts her reverie, however, and though her first instinct is to draw her blade, she finds herself unarmed. Turning slowly and crouching downwards, her combat visor immediately locks onto the newcomer, and the sight causes her to take a step back. ]

... 9S?

[ It's been months. 9S has kept track of each day, of each week, but having to take down all data manually on paper and is as exhausting as it is frustrating. He feels like a damn criminal scraping tallies on a concrete wall. Being human, surprisingly, has done him no favors. It's not liberating, it's not fun, and he can't help but feel bad for humans knowing what it means to be one. It almost seemed easier to be an android.

In the time he's spent in Atollo, 9S has been ill, injured, and insatiable under the effects the world gives. Not to say that he hasn't been able to be positive about it all but...

There's 2B. His partner. His closest friend. But their partnership has been purely business. They're friends, they're close, but not physically. And that's what's driven him the most insane. He hasn't necessarily been upfront about it, and he recognizes that it's his fault. But instead of being logical, he's sought release from either pure strangers or friends he's made over time here. It's taken care of the darkening marks before, but now he's just... Stopped.

9S can't deny that he feels something special for 2B. He thinks it might be love, or just the effects this place has on him. But even when he was an android, he'd felt much the same. It just seems so much... Stronger in human flesh. He knows she's sought relief from others, and it bothers him.

But he still won't say anything. And he's quit seeking the sexual attention of others because now it just makes him sick to do it. That hasn't bode well for him, and it shows in the dark, angry mark that's grown on his neck. He's likely in low spirits because of the raging headache he's had for days. Because of it, he hasn't been much for talking. Intel gathering is still a thing, and he tries to focus on his notes rather than anything else when he sits in the living room of their shared home. ]

Earth - Mid-game ish.