Seventeenth Matrix {Voice} {Backdated to 8 PM}

[whatthefactor]

For the most part, It's been too quiet. What the hell, Discedo? You're not following your logarithmic pattern.

... Not that I mind of course. Not as much stupidity over the comms.

Comments

COMMENTLOG.

[leatherrr]

[Clear night. Most nights in Discedo are, right now; he's not expecting that to last.

Not having bothered to answer Minamimoto's whinging over the network, Mello's taking all those stairs for the umpteenth time in as many days; he's pretty fit, so he arrives only somewhat winded.

It's chilly on the roof, but it's got a good view and few places to hide. He shrugs further into his jacket when he steps out, but raises his head to look for the mathematician, whichever shadow he and his outfit have managed to get lost in.]

I'm here.

COMMENTLOG.

[whatthefactor]

[Minamimoto stands quietly, arms crossed with the look of upmost irritation. He even came early, mostly out of boredom, but also because he didn't want the other to wait. Well, moreso that he wants to ensure that he gets the information.

He lifts his head at the sound of Mello's voice and spots him lurking soon afterwards.]

About time. Okay, radian, where do you want me to begin?

COMMENTLOG.

[leatherrr]

[It's the reason Mello gave an approximate time--'around 8' means a leeway of at least a half hour either way, which he prefers to have rather than irritable people, but in Discedo, that's really a moot point.

He settles about an arm's length from Minamimoto and toys idly with the topic for a moment.]

Let's start with who you are, and where you came from. That should be a good icebreaker.

COMMENTLOG.

[whatthefactor]

As I've said, my name's Sho Minamimoto. I'm 18 years old, my birthday is March 14, and I lived in Tokyo, Japan prior to here.

[He pauses momentarily.]

... Is the going to be confidential or will every digit and their exponent know?

COMMENTLOG.

[leatherrr]

[Why are all the people younger than him taller than him? As far as he knows, he's never done shit in this city to get that kind of karma.

For a moment he's tempted to ask for blood type, but stops himself just in time.]

99% confidential, 1% conditional. Is that a problem?

COMMENTLOG.

[whatthefactor]

[He shakes his head.]

No, just zetta curious. This shit is on your terms.

[Hen emphasizes the point with unsubtle distaste. He isn't fond of not having the upper hand nor having to momentarily swallow his pride, but this called for zetta desperate measures.]

What else?

COMMENTLOG.

[leatherrr]

[Of course it's on his terms--it has to be, if he's going to get anything done around here. He's going to make sure of that.]

When I say who you are and where you're from, I mean the details, too. What's a Reaper, and what's this Game you've mentioned? I want to hear all about it.

[He's brought half a bar of chocolate for this one. Crunch.]

Spare nothing. We've got time.

COMMENTLOG.

[whatthefactor]

[He nods, eyeing the chocolate bar with mild interest. He isn't a very big fan of sweets, but he hasn't eaten real food in over two months now.]I'll spare you the zetta dullness of childhood and just get to the Game

COMMENTLOG.

[leatherrr]

The 7th day... So this thing lasts a week? [That's appropriate, although he's amused anyway. He raises an eyebrow as he runs over the description again, picking out more details to pursue.]

... and you were a Player.

COMMENTLOG.

[whatthefactor]

Mhm. It's not consecutive though, save for some zetta special occasions.

[He sighs in a "didn't I just imply that?" kind of tone.]

Yeah. Survival was so zetta easy with elementary level missions. My chances of getting erased were 0:1.

COMMENTLOG.

[leatherrr]

And what kinds of special occasions are those?

[He rolls his eyes. Are they going to be playing 20 Questions, here? He doesn't have a problem with that, it's just tedious. He prefers to tap information until it flows.

Alcohol, maybe, next time.]

Good for you. Who gives the missions, anyway?

COMMENTLOG.

[whatthefactor]

Before coming here, the game went on 4 three consecutive weeks. I told you already Megs was up to something, but I don't know his intentions nor do I zetta care.

[These questions were stupid. Did he want real information or was he basing this on a meme from some internet community site? ]

The GM, whoever the factor it is that week.

COMMENTLOG.

[leatherrr]

[Oh, he's going somewhere with this, Minamimoto. They have all night, if necessary. The good thing about being in a post-apocalyptic ruin is the lack of community schedule.

Get lost in the details, and you build your own big picture.]

Sounds like you guys go through GMs like toilet paper--this Megumi guy lasted three weeks, though?

COMMENTLOG.

[whatthefactor]

[Minamimoto grunts; has a feeling he won't be going anywhere any time soon. He was overdue for forced socializing.]

Oh, he wasn't the GM. He was the Conductor. Picked out the GMs, called zetta dull meetings for the officers, and took orders from the Composer like a good boy, except like I said, he was up to something.

Week One he had a proxy be GM in his place, a zetta huge moron who made cooking references to everything I swear he wanted to fucking eat the players. I got to be the Game Master the next week. A zetta crucial step in my desired solution.

COMMENTLOG.

[leatherrr]

[It amuses him that the guy doesn't bother to tone down any of his irritation--it's part of what makes him useful.]

Regular old bureaucracy. It's everywhere. [Lightly.] This Composer was your boss?

Speaking of which, you did say three weeks; don't tell me they managed to add you to the junkheap.

COMMENTLOG.

[whatthefactor]

[His eye twitched; the Composer was a still quite a touchy subject. The last thing he wanted to be reminded was that he failed because of that fucking cheat.]

... Yes on both accounts. He was my boss, but he never dealt with much of anyone other than the Conductor. He just sat back and watched. Went to the RG once too, nearly zetta got him there, but he's a fucking cheater.

It's a long story, but I assume you want to hear that too.