>>[001]
X) INTROSPECTION: Private
Tieria hadn’t expected to survive. In those last moments in Nadleeh’s broken cockpit, with the oxygen levels dwindling to amounts that couldn't sustain even him, he’d endlessly calculated his chances. Death had been the most probable regardless of the various factors and scenarios he’d worked in, and in the end he’d come to accept it. Even if it wasn’t the exact outcome he’d been working towards, at the least they’d accomplished their goal. Aeolia Schenberg’s plan had been realized; with the world united and the GN Drives likely picked up by other factions of Celestial Being, there shouldn’t have been anything left wanting for him. And yet, part of him had hoped...
Waking up at all was the first sign something was wrong. His senses came back to him slowly, groggily, completely unlike the usual way he woke, the familiarly sudden transition between ‘asleep’ and ‘awake.’ It was doubtless he’d been compromised somehow, likely drugged. The nanomachines in his body should’ve nullified anything they knew the UN Forces had in their arsenal, though that information was outdated; after losing Veda (a thought that still caused a pang in his chest, a breathless sort of tightening he hated) they no longer could rely on their data being as ahead of the curve as it once had been. Whatever cocktail he’d been injected with was something new.
So why wasn’t he restrained? It didn’t make sense. A valuable prisoner of war like him wouldn’t be treated with only some kind of sedative and then trusted not to break out. Perhaps it hadn’t been the UN Forces that had recovered him, but Celestial Being?
He opened his eyes slowly, in case he was under supervision and needed to continue to feign sleep, and nothing looked right. The shock was enough for him to abandon all caution, sitting up and openly taking in the room he was currently occupying. Everything seemed softer, almost out of focus; the minute details he’d been so used to observing were gone like information lost during conversion to an inferior format. Tieria thought to blame it on the drugs, for surely that had to be what was causing his senses to be so dulled. But Celestial Being had no reason to drug him, unless they were trying to do him a favor by blunting the pain of his injuries.
Injuries he no longer had. The fact that he hadn’t noticed until now bothered him almost as much as the suddenly pristine condition he was physically in. His brain wasn’t processing things correctly, seemingly only able to focus on one thread at a time instead of the usual multiple levels of thoughts he normally streamed. That lack of depth and sharpness, the information he knew he was failing to pick up because his body was no longer functioning properly caused his breathing and heart rate to pick up, though he couldn’t calculate the exact numbers. Logically, he knew he had to calm down and properly assess the situation, but this was beyond anything he’d been prepared for. It took him longer than he’d expected for his fingers to stop curling into fists around the blankets on the bed and to focus on what he did and didn’t know.
He was on Earth. The unmistakable tether of gravity that pulled at his bones and the odd tang of unfiltered air were proof enough of that. Based on the amount of the light coming in from the window, it was morning; he didn’t trust the oddly old-fashioned clock in the room to be correct. His location appeared to be someone’s bedroom. Though sparely decorated, it had enough frivolous and irrelevant things to be obviously lived in. Where the room’s proper occupant was located remained unknown, though they were likely connected to how Tieria got here. Finding and interrogating them would reveal how this situation had come to pass, but perhaps it'd be smarter to get to the closest secure location and try to make contact with Celestial Being.
Whichever option was more readily available would decide his next course of action.
----
A) PHONECALL: To everyone
[Despite feeling distinctly strange and sluggish, as if he isn’t working properly, Tieria’s still determined to get down to the bottom of things. He doesn’t appear to be a prisoner of war, but he wasn’t recovered by his allies, either. So who saved him, and for what purpose? Why bring him to a backwater, civilian town on Earth?
His tone is very curt and tense, and it's quite clear he is not happy about his situation in the least.]
If you can hear this, I am requesting information about my current location and the quickest route to the nearest orbital elevator. I have been brought here against my will and will not tolerate-
[There's an abrupt pause, the crackle of static the only indication he hasn't hung up yet. It doesn't stretch long enough to be uncomfortable, and after a sudden intake of breath, he's suddenly humbled, as if remarking to himself about an unbelievable discovery.]
My lips are chapped..?
B) ACTION: To residents of 845 Goldberg Street
[Any drones in the house have had their throats slit and their dead bodies shoved into closets after providing to be completely useless as sources of information. Tieria has taken the sharpest knife he could find in the kitchen and is prowling around the house, noticeably avoiding the windows, and trying to find any and all clues to his questions. Anyone who approaches him is likely to be apprehended with a knife to the throat and interrogated under the threat of death, though a trained fighter might be able to get the upper hand on him before it comes to that.]
Tieria hadn’t expected to survive. In those last moments in Nadleeh’s broken cockpit, with the oxygen levels dwindling to amounts that couldn't sustain even him, he’d endlessly calculated his chances. Death had been the most probable regardless of the various factors and scenarios he’d worked in, and in the end he’d come to accept it. Even if it wasn’t the exact outcome he’d been working towards, at the least they’d accomplished their goal. Aeolia Schenberg’s plan had been realized; with the world united and the GN Drives likely picked up by other factions of Celestial Being, there shouldn’t have been anything left wanting for him. And yet, part of him had hoped...
Waking up at all was the first sign something was wrong. His senses came back to him slowly, groggily, completely unlike the usual way he woke, the familiarly sudden transition between ‘asleep’ and ‘awake.’ It was doubtless he’d been compromised somehow, likely drugged. The nanomachines in his body should’ve nullified anything they knew the UN Forces had in their arsenal, though that information was outdated; after losing Veda (a thought that still caused a pang in his chest, a breathless sort of tightening he hated) they no longer could rely on their data being as ahead of the curve as it once had been. Whatever cocktail he’d been injected with was something new.
So why wasn’t he restrained? It didn’t make sense. A valuable prisoner of war like him wouldn’t be treated with only some kind of sedative and then trusted not to break out. Perhaps it hadn’t been the UN Forces that had recovered him, but Celestial Being?
He opened his eyes slowly, in case he was under supervision and needed to continue to feign sleep, and nothing looked right. The shock was enough for him to abandon all caution, sitting up and openly taking in the room he was currently occupying. Everything seemed softer, almost out of focus; the minute details he’d been so used to observing were gone like information lost during conversion to an inferior format. Tieria thought to blame it on the drugs, for surely that had to be what was causing his senses to be so dulled. But Celestial Being had no reason to drug him, unless they were trying to do him a favor by blunting the pain of his injuries.
Injuries he no longer had. The fact that he hadn’t noticed until now bothered him almost as much as the suddenly pristine condition he was physically in. His brain wasn’t processing things correctly, seemingly only able to focus on one thread at a time instead of the usual multiple levels of thoughts he normally streamed. That lack of depth and sharpness, the information he knew he was failing to pick up because his body was no longer functioning properly caused his breathing and heart rate to pick up, though he couldn’t calculate the exact numbers. Logically, he knew he had to calm down and properly assess the situation, but this was beyond anything he’d been prepared for. It took him longer than he’d expected for his fingers to stop curling into fists around the blankets on the bed and to focus on what he did and didn’t know.
He was on Earth. The unmistakable tether of gravity that pulled at his bones and the odd tang of unfiltered air were proof enough of that. Based on the amount of the light coming in from the window, it was morning; he didn’t trust the oddly old-fashioned clock in the room to be correct. His location appeared to be someone’s bedroom. Though sparely decorated, it had enough frivolous and irrelevant things to be obviously lived in. Where the room’s proper occupant was located remained unknown, though they were likely connected to how Tieria got here. Finding and interrogating them would reveal how this situation had come to pass, but perhaps it'd be smarter to get to the closest secure location and try to make contact with Celestial Being.
Whichever option was more readily available would decide his next course of action.
----
A) PHONECALL: To everyone
[Despite feeling distinctly strange and sluggish, as if he isn’t working properly, Tieria’s still determined to get down to the bottom of things. He doesn’t appear to be a prisoner of war, but he wasn’t recovered by his allies, either. So who saved him, and for what purpose? Why bring him to a backwater, civilian town on Earth?
His tone is very curt and tense, and it's quite clear he is not happy about his situation in the least.]
If you can hear this, I am requesting information about my current location and the quickest route to the nearest orbital elevator. I have been brought here against my will and will not tolerate-
[There's an abrupt pause, the crackle of static the only indication he hasn't hung up yet. It doesn't stretch long enough to be uncomfortable, and after a sudden intake of breath, he's suddenly humbled, as if remarking to himself about an unbelievable discovery.]
My lips are chapped..?
B) ACTION: To residents of 845 Goldberg Street
[Any drones in the house have had their throats slit and their dead bodies shoved into closets after providing to be completely useless as sources of information. Tieria has taken the sharpest knife he could find in the kitchen and is prowling around the house, noticeably avoiding the windows, and trying to find any and all clues to his questions. Anyone who approaches him is likely to be apprehended with a knife to the throat and interrogated under the threat of death, though a trained fighter might be able to get the upper hand on him before it comes to that.]