towerofanimus | Locked in the Tower ✪ Part Four: Don't Turn Your Back on the City

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Locked in the Tower ✪ Part Four: Don't Turn Your Back on the City

Characters:	David "Little David" Puskás, and all youse guys!
Setting:	All day March 9—Residential Floors, Floors 1, 14, 39, and 100
Format:	Matching tagger's choice, but starting with Prose.
Summary:	In the morning, martial arts training at the gym. Later in the day, David seeks out Waver and Diarmuid and chills at the Media Room. Toward the evening, David "visits" home on Floor 100. Also, random encounters in the Cafeteria.
Warnings:	None come to mind!

Option A: Floor Thirty-One (Gymnasium, Morning)

     Earlier last month, David had met Reno, and taken up his offer on getting some martial arts training, given that without ammunition for his rifle, he's quite effectively declawed. Reno says he likes getting that training done in the morning, so David's up bright and early today for his first lessons. It also looks like his powered armor is finally behaving itself, as he's casually floating into the gym using the suit's flight system.

     Although David's waiting for Reno, he's not above chatting it up with anyone else that might be in the gym if Reno's not there yet. Until then, he'll be idly examining the gym equipment, seeing what there is available, and—

     —oops, that tiny weight sure did slam on the ground hard.

     "Da heck is dis thing, made of lead?" David mutters as he cuts power to the flight system and tries to pick it up. Even with the motor-assist functions in his suit, he's having to put some effort into putting it back on the weight rack.

Option B: Dormitory Floors (Especially Floor Two, Afternoon)

     Later, David makes another attempt to find several people he's looking for—namely, Waver Velvet and Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. By now, just about everyone he's asked has named Diarmuid the go-to guy for learning how to fight with a sword. David's still got that Orcish sword on him, and as the only real weapon in his whole arsenal here at the Tower, he's got to learn how to use it. As for Lord El-Melloi II, David aims to talk to him about the results of the library Easter egg hunt.

     ... but, really, David should have done this before Zo's surprise rearrangement of residential assignments. Not that he had any reason to suspect it was going to happen, but it's made this a bit more difficult than it should have been.

     David wanders the residential floors, checking the various room signs for the people he's looking for. He'll find them eventually—even if it takes him a little while to do it. Plenty of time for anyone else to run into him, on chance. When he finds Diarmuid and Waver's housing assignments, though, he'll be knocking on their doors.

Option C: Floor One (Cafeteria, Morning/Noon/Evening)

     David doesn't really understand the significance between the choice of food available for each month, but he is so glad to be done with February.

     He hadn't learned of the resident-run kitchen until partway through the month, thanks to Reno. Up until then, he was flat out avoiding the Cafeteria during dinner hours. As if the side effects of power donation weren't enough.

     Now, though, he's enjoying the menu. Even if it's more suited for a kids' menu, he's not complaining. Not after last month. So, anyone visiting the Cafeteria throughout the day might see David helping himself to a stack of peanut butter pancakes and chocolate milk, sandwiches and mint soda, or spaceship chicken nuggets and vanilla milkshakes—depending on the time of day, of course.

Option D: Floor Fourteen (Media Room, Afternoon)

     "Tossin', turnin', nightmares burnin' / Dreams of swords in hand ..."

     No, that's not David's voice you're hearing over the media room's speakers, but rather Steven Tyler's. David's currently relaxing—in mid-air, no less, and in that laid-back hammock pose that Rolo Lamperouge caught him in a few months ago—while Aerosmith's "Kings and Queens" blares through the speakers. He's taking the time to savor having his powered armor return to full (and proper) functionality again after donating power at the end of January by abusing its flight system to chill out in his own way.

     The song's a lot darker than the type of Aerosmith songs David usually listens to—and the band is more well known for their bright, funky and peppy songs, but ... with recent events, and with some of the kind of people he's run into of late, it seemed fitting. And anyway, he'd missed hearing his favorite bands, since he'd never really visited the Media Room before until Ruana's game last month. It makes him wish he had some sort of MP3 player or walkman on hand. Or, that he had that functionality built into his helmet. Why didn't he ever think of that before?

     "Living times of knights and mares / Raising swords for maidens fair / Sneer at death, fear only loss of pride ..."

     It'd be easy for David to doze off again, but he's a little wary of doing that now. Instead, he floats in his hammock pose with a contented grin, nodding softly to the beat of the music in a sort of half-hearted headbang.

Option E: Floor One Hundred (VR Memory Floor, Evening)

     Floor One Hundred was one of many that David had never paid attention to before. Up until recently, he believed it was always the empty room that he had seen of it—however, after meeting Reno and being shown Ragnarok's files kept in Aria's hideout, now he knows what the floor really is ... and he's really curious to see it for himself. So, late in the day, he makes time to do just that.

     Stepping down onto the floor, the surroundings change into ... a stairwell? No, wait—after a moment, David realizes it's a building's roof access staircase, with the door leading outside open. He hesitates for a moment, before walking outside—and finding that the floor has turned into a roof.

     A roof of a building in Atlas Park. At night, in Paragon City, Rhode Island. America. Primal Earth. His home.

     It's all an illusion, of course. David knew that coming here—and yet, he's moved. Silently. It's a powerful recreation—there's no people visible down on the sidewalks, no Hellions or Vahzilok or other villainous scumbags trying to prey on the citizenry—but, as he approaches the edge of the roof, he can see that there is simulated traffic down there, and in the sky as well. The sights and sounds of a big American city emanate from all around.

     There, in the center of Atlas Park, is Atlas Plaza: City Hall, with the American flag made from Statesman's cape fluttering in the breeze. The massive statue bearing the weight of the world on its shoulders—dedicated to the superhero who gave his namesake to this part of town. The other neighborhoods bordering the seat of Paragon City's municipal government—behind him, the rest of Downside; on the north side of Atlas, The Promenade; Paragon Transit Authority's Yellow Line metrorail snaking its way through the buldings; Hyperion Way, and the entrance to what used to be Eastgate ...

     ... and all around, the shimmering War Walls dividing Atlas Park from the rest of Paragon, taller than almost any skyscraper. The rest of the city just barely visible beyond its energy fields, city lights winking in and out like starlight. Even knowing full well what he's seeing is simulated, David can't help but feel the urge to light up a stogie and survey the landscape for signs of trouble. Well—he doesn't have a lighter, but he does still have a fresh cigar in that travel case.

     With a quiet sigh, David fishes that cigar out of the case and places it in his mouth, contenting himself to at least feel he was back on Primal Earth ... if only for a short time.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Maybe one day, he will learn the value of those that do know nothing of him. Ha But Sephiroth finds generally it's only dragging out the inevitable. Why should he care what they think of him anyway, there isn't the time for him to be playing to anyone's favor.]

The Daring Little David hm?

[It sounds so incredibly dumb to him. Even Sephiroth hasn't had such a ridiculous name even when he was a Hero. Which he isn't any more and hasn't looked back. Doesn't want to know, it's furthest from relevant now.

Well- he certainly is short when compared to Sephiroth, even if his 6'2"-ish frame is leant back against the weight rack.]

What did you do, that was so Daring?

[David shrugs, putting his hands up at about shoulder height.]

Heh, where do ya want me to start? I've fought crime, stopped villains an' evildoers ... Even helped save da world a few times.

[Just couldn't save the world from ... whatever it was that's been tearing through everyone's home dimensions like so much butter.]

[Sephiroth eyes the mech-suit, to examine how exactly it moves as the man inside shrugs, but otherwise doesn't move at all with the exception of breathing.

How perfectly typical. The silver haired man in the grey gym kit fights to suppress a sneer. Just another example of wasted potential in this place. If it mattered all that much to him anymore he might well have said so as well, but soon it will all be over and regardless what is the point to make even more enemies than necessary. There are plenty of other residents that if given a reason would make obtaining his goal difficult.

Indeed, it's not like any of them had managed to save their own worlds; whatever their own purposes within them had been.]

That's an impressive resume, yet you still cannot bring yourself to put an end to a rather impertinent child.

[Every attempt is made to sound at least less sarcastic than he might otherwise. True enough though, he knows it's not that simple just as it's not as if Sephiroth himself has been in a position to lay a finger on Ruana either, but it's David that's bragging here.]

You talkin' about Ruana?

[David's face screws into a sort of wry, but frustrated expression.]

Believe me, if I could I'd haul her butt straight to da Zig. But so long as she's got us in dese artsy-crafty fake bodies, I don't think any of us can.

[Which wasn't something he had thought about until he spoke with Enoch last month in the library. Glamoured weapons appeared to be as lethal as the real thing, so until then David thought glamoured ammunition would probably work in a fight against the admins—until Enoch pointed out that the admins could easily just shut down whatever it was that caused glamour material to simulate said weapons.]

Who else would I be referring to? I don't generally concern myself with children.

[He doesn't mean to snap, but Sephiroth can't keep too much of his own frustration at the situation out of his tone. He does, however contrary to David, manage to keep his expression passive. Which in turn makes the tone of his voice seem a little out of place.]

You're right enough about that. [though 'da Zig'- what did that even mean. Sephiroth doesn't suppose it matters all that much. The sentiment is the same regardless.]

So how do you suppose we rid ourselves of this problem?

[Sephiroth, speaking in united terms, might well be a warning of what he intends to fish with his question - though he doesn't know David at all. It doesn't hurt to gather opinions of others, right?]

[David looks as if he hasn't thought too hard on this part. Which he hasn't—he'd been more concerned with getting ammunition for his gun, real or glamoured, for most of his time here. And he's only now pursuing other means of fighting, only one of which might actually do something against the admins.]

[Still, being directly questioned about it gets the gears turning in his head. All his internal, impotent fuming over not having his real body and his real weapons—what would it take to get them back? And if not them, what about a reasonable facsimile?]

Well ...

[David trails off, as he readjusts his cigar in thought. ... Yeah, there's two possibilities he can think of.]

All da ways dat're comin' to me, it'd depend on if dere's da right kinda people here in da Tower.

[He's really not surprised. There are hardly any minds contained in the Tower that continuously grind the way that Sephiroth's does -or at least- as far as he is concerned. Also, as has become more obvious since the Dormitory change-around, there are only a handful left that have been in the Tower longer than Sephiroth has.

He's never returned to his dead World, either. For good or worse, he's had a lot of time to think a lot of things through. And occasionally gathering others' opinions or possible intelligence is a worthwhile use of his time.]

What do you mean, the right kind of people?

You'd need people with certain powers.

[David starts counting the ideas off in his head, sticking out a thumb as the first talking point.]

One, you'd need somebody who can travel to other dimensions—without usin' technology, 'cause all we got here is simulated goop. If dey can hop back to our home dimensions an' bring our bodies here, or any of our real stuff.

[David continues after sticking out his pointer finger as the second point.]

If we're talkin' getting our bodies back, dat means you also need somebody who can get our souls back where dey belong. Maybe Zo can do dat for us, since people told me he's da admin who's been yankin' our souls out in da first place. An' he don't seem like one of da bad guys.

[And then onto the middle finger for the third point. ~~No, he's not flipping the bird.~~]

If either of dose ain't an option, dere's Plan B: Somebody who can make clones of our bodies an' our stuff. Or somethin' dat ain't made of dat ... whatever it is dat glamour system uses. But you'd still need a way to move our souls around, so dat still means talkin' to Zo or whoever can do it.

[He's leaving out the bit about the new collar fluid intentionally. It wouldn't matter either way, right? Anybody who already knows about the fluid would know that has to be a prerequisite, anybody who doesn't would probably assume it can be done provided the right kind of people are residents in the Tower ...]

[David has a very, unusual way of putting it but the ideas contained within are logical enough ones. Sephiroth remains engaged in at least appearing to listen. Indeed, these 'powers' he refers to would have to be real ones at least, Glamour is only as far as Glamour goes.

The whispering start of scowl grows in one corner of Sephiroth's face though as David lists off the highly-impossible list of abilities that he thinks would be required. A dimension traveler; not a tall-order at all! Considering as well that even real powers are limited by the restrictions of the Tower itself. The soul-work required, something told him that Zo's ability wasn't a two-way street and besides the kid seemed, to him at least, to want them to stay as much as Ruana did.

Clones, are enough of a bad-idea to reveal more of that carefully-hidden scowl that has tightened Sephiroth's features. He wants his body, or at least something real enough that his soul could change into the same. It really has been starting to look more and more hopeless since Sephiroth transitioned into his real powers. If only-]

Well you seem to have it all worked out, at least. [He doesn't bother to hide the sarcasm.] It makes perfect sense that the kid that brought us all here would help us escape this place.

[Not. Sephiroth pushes off from the weight rack and looks over David one more time before turning and approaching one of the weight benches nearby. He'll continue his workout regardless if David wants to converse more or not.]

[David shrugs off the sarcasm, the massive pauldrons on on his suit of armor exaggerating the gesture.]

S'what I could think of off da top of my head.

[He watches Sephiroth head over to the weight benches. The conversation could end there, though David feels compelled to comment further.]

Woulda been easy if some of da kind of people where I'm from weren't wiped out, yanno?

[It just makes it worse that the 'top of my head' seems to be as good as a tactic as any those more seasoned might come up with. Sephiroth tests the brackets of the first bench he comes to, one by one, holding the loaded bar up - and then quickly snatches himself away as the bar came crashing down. Then he tries again on the next bench, pausing after an initial press at the brackets to answer David-]

If there is one thing I learned from anything on My Planet, it was that no one else can be relied on.

[-then he presses a knee down on the end of the bench and it buckles under not very much pressure at all. He grunts and steps back, looking over the mess of the two benches tested so far. Seems they didn't want to make it easy for him to get his routine done today.

The third bench he comes to, the brackets hold and the bench doesn't buckle either and so, carefully Sephiroth sits down on it - looking back to the guy in the mech-suit again.]

It is what it is, and each of us needs to find a way out regardless.

You're a real lone wolf kinda guy, huh?

[The expression on David's face is somewhere between a smirk and a sympathetic grin.]

I get dat. I did a lotta my stuff solo, but dere's times where you just don't got da right powers to do what needs doin'. Or, it takes more dan just what you got to get it done.

[He looks off to the side.]

Not even Statesman won wars all by himself, yanno?

[Never mind the fact that he's the only person in the Tower who knows who Statesman was ... to his knowledge, at least.]

[Sephiroth doesn't bother to answer that first one. He just delivers an unappreciative glare in David's direction before getting set up on the weight bench, lying down smoothly and fidgeting to get his shoulders in the right place underneath the bar.]

If I find I don't have the skill for something I need, I make sure that I learn it before going in. I know I will get what needs to be done - done, where others might not.

[And he has fought more than what amounted to a few wars, on his own. Though it's hardly the time or place to be bragging. He takes the bar in both hands and presses a couple of times to test the weight first.]

[David can't quite figure out what to make of the glare that Sephiroth just shot him. Did he hit the mark? Or was Sephiroth offended by the notion? Then again, the more he talks to the guy, the more Sephiroth reminds him of that red-garbed man that rescued him his first day here. He could be another jaded, grumpy hero that doesn't actually like other heroes.]

An' what if it's somethin' you don't got da time to learn? Not every crisis is gonna wait on ya.

[David did hit the mark, and Sephiroth is offended by the notion that he can't handle everything himself. So, either or both conclusions would be correct ones.

Though, Sephiroth would resent even further the notion that he were a hero. He left that life behind, stripped everything concerning it away for very good reasons.]

I find that common sense is an ample weapon through most such crisis. You can never-

[He drew the bar down towards the center of his chest more slowly this time and then gradually pushed it up away from him, but didn't extend his arms all the way. He pulsed five reps out in quick succession near to the top of the extension of his arms and then carefully placed the bar back on it's brackets for a rest period.]

-You can never be prepared for every eventuality. But I find those that you aren't ready for can be figured out by the correct application of intelligence.

Heh, maybe if you're Doctor Science.

[David folds his arms over his chest, albeit the bulk of his armor makes that a little hard to do convincingly. Though that might have come off as sarcastic, David's tone of voice is mostly sincere. Indeed, David wishes Steven Sheridan were here—it was his intelligence, after all, that saw to the plan which ended the Rikti War. And saved Primal Earth from the closest it ever came to extinction, until ... well, all this.]

I dunno, I just think dere's a limit to dese kinda things. Don't get me wrong, plannin' an' common sense go a long way—but if you're facin' somethin' that's completely outta your field an' you know a guy who can help solve it, why not get da help?

[Sephiroth flicks a glance down and to the side of himself at David's comment. It's clear from his body language that he doesn't appreciate the comment at all. Sephiroth has spent the months since the end of the fluid research, putting as much distance between himself and science as he can.

They'll never know it was his doing that granted them the fluid in the first place. Just as it's better that they never know how many hours of research he put in alone where his 'group' did not.]

That's easy- [He kept his tone as light, but also as level as he could.] -because everything comes with a price.

[David looks genuinely puzzled by Sephiroth's answer.]

What, seriously, dat's it?

[David takes a moment to think on that. Being selfless, risking one's own well-being or life for the sake of others, that forms the core of being a hero. David's still inclined to think Sephiroth might be one, albeit a bitter one ... but if he's so determined to not work with others because it means there'll be a price he has to pay, well—what does that say about the world he comes from?]

... I take it altruism ain't a big thing back home?

That's it.

[It's really not, in fact most of this attitude is driven by Sephiroth's unwavering controlling streak, made predominant as it is by his own betrayals. Other people are a liability, even more so if they were a -like most others in the Tower- an inferior race to him.

Sephiroth raises his hands to the bar above his head once more, but pauses at David's next question. He might have scowled heavily, but really that fact is a given for him.]

True selflessness is an illusion.

Dat answers dat.

[Boy, Sephiroth must have led a sucky life if it taught him a lesson as awful as that. David feels compelled to argue the point, even though he's not sure how to convince Sephiroth otherwise ... Wait! He could talk about the Rikti War ...]

It ain't an illusion where I'm from. I don't think I'd be here today if it weren't.

[Out of all of the shattered and/or fragmented memories of his life, Sephiroth remembers his betrayals the clearest. He clings to them as the some of the most critical threads of his core, those vestiges of identity that he can never loosen his grip around.]

Oh? [He remains with his hands loosely gripped around the weight bar for the time being.]

And how certain are you that those delivering such priceless assistance really weren't out for their own ends?

[Such priceless assistance, he says—well, David is fairly certain he's poking a sore spot here. He doesn't let Sephiroth's reaction get to him, though. Rather, he stands there with his fists on his hips, his expression growing more resolute.]

Easy. Dey could've ran away, saved only deir butts an' those dey cared about personally. Instead, dey chose to help save billions of people dey didn't even know, at da cost of deir lives.

[David readjusts the cigar in his mouth before continuing.]

Puttin' everyone else's lives before yours—dat's pretty much da definition of bein' selfless, ain't it?

[... Though at that point, David does recall that there was a bona fide villain on Omega Team—Hero 1's archnemesis, Ruin—and he certainly had selfish motives for fighting alongside the other, actual heroes. Buuuuut Sephiroth doesn't have to know about that guy.]

[Sephiroth curls his lip up in something close to disgust, but toned down, then looks away from David and takes the weight bar more definitely.]

That reeks of the worst kind of self-gratification.

[Like suicide. The human last resort when their death would provoke more of a power over others than anything said human considering it would otherwise do. The eternal trump card for when it's impossible for them to effect any other human than themselves.]

And I suppose everyone who was saved thought they were the big damn heroes.

[Whoa. David wasn't expecting a reaction like that one, and it shows. In David's mind, choosing to sacrifice one's life for the sake of others is one of the most potent selfless things someone can do, since it goes against every self-preservation instinct or inclination people should have.]

Well ... yeah, considerin' da alternative was total extinction? Who wouldn't consider dem heroes?

[David then puts his hands up in the air in a shrugging motion, as if to say, "Are you for real?"]

An' come on, self-gratification? We're talkin' about death here, yanno? You ain't gonna be around to enjoy some kinda reward.

[When the memory of an existence becomes more powerful than anything a being did in their life, it only highlights how pointless it's life had been. It's only right that such life wouldn't be worth it's own self-preservation.

Sephiroth takes the bar and lifts then, slowly pumping out another set of five reps in quick succession. Pausing to get his breathing in check and then repeating the process. Second set done he places the weights back on their bracket.]

Extinction is never completely total, life will always find another way. Only it might not be what humans would think of as acceptable.

[Except, apparently in the case of whatever virus was spreading throughout so many other worlds. He ignores David's shrug, crouching his head from underneath the weight bar and sitting up on the edge of the bench. Stretching one arm after another, out in front of him.]

Of course you wouldn't be, you'd be dead. At least physically. Your memory would serve to satisfy the self-gratification of those left behind in your wake. Thus, you never truly die. And isn't that what all humans want most of all?

[He paused and turned his head to the side, inclining his chin towards the man in the mech-suit]

To be remembered, infinitely. To live forever.

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