Paradisa Fanfiction
Who: 7 and The Meta (wearethemeta)
What: Meeting in the hallway
Rating: PG, PG-13? My whole point in playing Meta is because he freaks me out, so ... I try to freak me out whenever I write him. I did this time.
Stealth had always been her greatest strength. Stealing across the dead and broken landscape, tracking the Beast, it had never noticed her. Not after their first meeting. She had been determined not to let that happen ever again.
No, it had not noticed her after that, not until she had wanted it to.
Stealth. She had paid a price learning it, and she carried the lesson with her everywhere in the form of the large, orange patch that struck out most of her number, her identity.
She was the patch. She was stealth.
So, it seemed to be no trouble to her to track the hulking metal beast that had shown up in Paradisa, spitting and growling and sounding everything like the Beast she had beheaded back at home. It had chilled her in a way she couldn't explain - didn't want to explain - and perhaps it was that on top of everything else that had her following it everyday.
She wasn't the only one, and she knew it; she'd seen that other soldier, the grey one with the yellow detailing. She'd talked to him, once, but hadn't gotten his name.
She'd seen him following this new Beast.
She'd seen him confront this new Beast.
She would have intervened if she thought there had been anything she could have done, but this new Beast was just too powerful, deep down she knew that. Just like she had known it would have been pointless confronting the Fabrication machine when it first rose to life.
The first day York had told them about Meta, 7 had stolen into his room. She was quick and quiet at first, but it was very apparent to her that he had not spent any time there other than to wreck the place, and there wasn't anything of importance left, nor were there any discernible clues to weaknesses or disadvantages. It had been a room, and now it was a mess.
So, she had gone to tracking him, like Grey. She had the great advantage that Washington lacked; she was small enough that no one who wasn't specifically looking for her could find her.
Perhaps this was the case with any of her kind, with 6 and his hole in the wall, or 5 and 4 when they had been there, but with 7, it was more than just the size.
She was stealth.
Another advantage she had over Grey; she did not have to sleep. She could afford to follow Meta all day, and all night. She saw where he slept, how he left the rooms. She had seen him go in with the mechanic girl, and later watched the door open of its own accord.
It was when he went invisible that she lost him, but it never took her long to find him again.
Now, she'd caught him around the corner. She ducked under a credenza and stole along the hall to get as close to him as she could; he was at a door, scratching that symbol of his into the wood, one Greek letter lovingly at a time.
She scaled a curtain and crept across a windowsill to get a closer look at the nameplate.
Tres Iquis.
Meta stopped halfway through and cocked his head. 7 pulled back behind the curtain. She heard something, voices, several voices, all talking at once, interrupting each other. Someone was angry, mentioning pain and wrath. Another quipped with an odd, computerized voice about vengeance. There were more voices, too many to count, all talking at once.
7 had never heard anything like it before, and chanced a peek around the curtain.
She'd seen Delta, before, so it wasn't the presence of the holograms that startled her; it was the sheer number of them, seeming to stand in a multicolored ring around Meta's head.
“ --omeone is he--
--must STOP he--
--ill she join us--
--GET HER--”
7 didn't hesitate as Meta turned, and she was just able to narrowly miss as he grabbed for her, flipping over his grasping hand and landing in a tuck and roll on the floor. The next moment she was up and dashing towards the credenza, the ground punctuated by Meta's throbbing footsteps in mad pursuit.
She slid under the credenza, but a moment later Meta flipped it, sending it crashing down towards the end of the hallway. 7 leapt up again, pushing off with her spear, and darted between his legs, making for the nearest door.
That's when Meta pivoted, and slammed down the bladed end of the Brute just in front of her, cutting her off and causing her to stumble. His hand closed around her, and it took her only a moment of struggling to realize how futile it was. He brought her close to his helmet for inspection, the AIs swarmed around his head, talking, chattering, excited.
She chucked the spear at his helmet, and watched as it ricocheted harmlessly off. He rumbled, a deep, chuffing laughter.
7 watched, horrified. Was this how 5 felt, just before … just before it …
She struggled again, wanting to do something even if she knew it wouldn't work. She wouldn't go without a fight.
Meta brought her in closer, the gleaming gold faceplate perfectly reflecting her, showing her how scared she really was under that fierce skull. She looked away.
She couldn't watch.
She closed her eyes.
Nothing happened.
The AIs continued to speak and chatter, but their tone turned from excitement to confusion and then to disappointed anger. With a long, rumbling growl, Meta simply opened his hand, and dropped 7.
She was too surprised at the sudden release to prepare a landing, and fell flat on her back. She felt herself shutter at the impact, and lay there a moment trying to assess the situation.
Meta turned back to Tres' door and finished his symbol, and then disappeared, literally. 7 could feel the reverberations of his footsteps as he left, the deep throbbing lessen and lessen until she was alone in the hallway.
Carefully, she picked herself back up, and then walked over to retrieve her spear. She gripped it, leaned against it, and closed her eyes.
Once she had collected herself, she darted back to the wall and stole down the hallway, stopping every so often to listen and feel and try to determine where he'd gone next.
note: first draft. Critiques welcomed!
ETA: fixed some various typoes.
What: Meeting in the hallway
Rating: PG, PG-13? My whole point in playing Meta is because he freaks me out, so ... I try to freak me out whenever I write him. I did this time.
Stealth had always been her greatest strength. Stealing across the dead and broken landscape, tracking the Beast, it had never noticed her. Not after their first meeting. She had been determined not to let that happen ever again.
No, it had not noticed her after that, not until she had wanted it to.
Stealth. She had paid a price learning it, and she carried the lesson with her everywhere in the form of the large, orange patch that struck out most of her number, her identity.
She was the patch. She was stealth.
So, it seemed to be no trouble to her to track the hulking metal beast that had shown up in Paradisa, spitting and growling and sounding everything like the Beast she had beheaded back at home. It had chilled her in a way she couldn't explain - didn't want to explain - and perhaps it was that on top of everything else that had her following it everyday.
She wasn't the only one, and she knew it; she'd seen that other soldier, the grey one with the yellow detailing. She'd talked to him, once, but hadn't gotten his name.
She'd seen him following this new Beast.
She'd seen him confront this new Beast.
She would have intervened if she thought there had been anything she could have done, but this new Beast was just too powerful, deep down she knew that. Just like she had known it would have been pointless confronting the Fabrication machine when it first rose to life.
The first day York had told them about Meta, 7 had stolen into his room. She was quick and quiet at first, but it was very apparent to her that he had not spent any time there other than to wreck the place, and there wasn't anything of importance left, nor were there any discernible clues to weaknesses or disadvantages. It had been a room, and now it was a mess.
So, she had gone to tracking him, like Grey. She had the great advantage that Washington lacked; she was small enough that no one who wasn't specifically looking for her could find her.
Perhaps this was the case with any of her kind, with 6 and his hole in the wall, or 5 and 4 when they had been there, but with 7, it was more than just the size.
She was stealth.
Another advantage she had over Grey; she did not have to sleep. She could afford to follow Meta all day, and all night. She saw where he slept, how he left the rooms. She had seen him go in with the mechanic girl, and later watched the door open of its own accord.
It was when he went invisible that she lost him, but it never took her long to find him again.
Now, she'd caught him around the corner. She ducked under a credenza and stole along the hall to get as close to him as she could; he was at a door, scratching that symbol of his into the wood, one Greek letter lovingly at a time.
She scaled a curtain and crept across a windowsill to get a closer look at the nameplate.
Tres Iquis.
Meta stopped halfway through and cocked his head. 7 pulled back behind the curtain. She heard something, voices, several voices, all talking at once, interrupting each other. Someone was angry, mentioning pain and wrath. Another quipped with an odd, computerized voice about vengeance. There were more voices, too many to count, all talking at once.
7 had never heard anything like it before, and chanced a peek around the curtain.
She'd seen Delta, before, so it wasn't the presence of the holograms that startled her; it was the sheer number of them, seeming to stand in a multicolored ring around Meta's head.
“ --omeone is he--
--must STOP he--
--ill she join us--
--GET HER--”
7 didn't hesitate as Meta turned, and she was just able to narrowly miss as he grabbed for her, flipping over his grasping hand and landing in a tuck and roll on the floor. The next moment she was up and dashing towards the credenza, the ground punctuated by Meta's throbbing footsteps in mad pursuit.
She slid under the credenza, but a moment later Meta flipped it, sending it crashing down towards the end of the hallway. 7 leapt up again, pushing off with her spear, and darted between his legs, making for the nearest door.
That's when Meta pivoted, and slammed down the bladed end of the Brute just in front of her, cutting her off and causing her to stumble. His hand closed around her, and it took her only a moment of struggling to realize how futile it was. He brought her close to his helmet for inspection, the AIs swarmed around his head, talking, chattering, excited.
She chucked the spear at his helmet, and watched as it ricocheted harmlessly off. He rumbled, a deep, chuffing laughter.
7 watched, horrified. Was this how 5 felt, just before … just before it …
She struggled again, wanting to do something even if she knew it wouldn't work. She wouldn't go without a fight.
Meta brought her in closer, the gleaming gold faceplate perfectly reflecting her, showing her how scared she really was under that fierce skull. She looked away.
She couldn't watch.
She closed her eyes.
Nothing happened.
The AIs continued to speak and chatter, but their tone turned from excitement to confusion and then to disappointed anger. With a long, rumbling growl, Meta simply opened his hand, and dropped 7.
She was too surprised at the sudden release to prepare a landing, and fell flat on her back. She felt herself shutter at the impact, and lay there a moment trying to assess the situation.
Meta turned back to Tres' door and finished his symbol, and then disappeared, literally. 7 could feel the reverberations of his footsteps as he left, the deep throbbing lessen and lessen until she was alone in the hallway.
Carefully, she picked herself back up, and then walked over to retrieve her spear. She gripped it, leaned against it, and closed her eyes.
Once she had collected herself, she darted back to the wall and stole down the hallway, stopping every so often to listen and feel and try to determine where he'd gone next.
note: first draft. Critiques welcomed!
ETA: fixed some various typoes.