[RPG] The Big-Oh! RP — An Archive of Storytelling

Alex almost seemed amused at her words.

"Do you find what you want?" Alex chuckled. "That's not the question, Mrs. Seebach. The question is, of what one finds, how much of it does one comprehend? And how much of it could you comprehend before..."

He trailed off, turning his back to the two. Alex had made a pointed jab at Emelia by steering the conversation, even if it was only an allusion, to Schwarzwald. Inwardly, he was laughing, waiting for her response.

In the meanwhile, he picked up the picture of Emelia laying on Michael's desk. "I think it was rather nice of us", he said, considering the photo, "to make this room seem as much like Mr. Seebach's old office did, don't you agree?"

(OOC: 666th post! Ooooo.. er, anway, sorry for the lack of posting; couldn't think of much else for Angel to do right now, as Beck and Alan haven't been too active lately either and with Snake gone from the Speakeasy I'm really not sure where to go with Angel right now)



Angel flinched out of her reverie. Isalai was staring at her, almost unsure about something. Finally the girl managed to speak up.

"If it's okay with you.. May I please ask your name? Mine's Isalai." Angel was confused for a moment; hadn't she already given the girl her name? She couldn't remember. The day's events were starting to get muddled in her mind. A lightbulb soon clicked, however, and Angel realized the girl must mean her real name, not Patricia Lovejoy.

Angel's smile was as forced as Isalai's. "Angel will do just fine," she said. The girl was obviously lying about her name, but Angel forced that thought to the back of her mind. There were more important things to think about right now. What were Snake and Roger up to? She longed to run off after Roger as usual, but with Alan aware of her every move, a certain whip-wielding woman was sure to follow her. As it was, Vera was probably already planning some sort of punishment for her not showing up. No doubt Alan was here on some sort of business, and would be excused for not attending the meeting.

Come to think of it, why was Alan here? It was unsual for him to be mingling with the public like this. Surely he hadn't come here after Angel. No, Alan could care less what Angel did; he just got a kick out of tormenting her about it.

Angel's mind was darting from thought to though much too quickly, analyzing 'what-ifs' and 'whys' over and over. She felt she was at a dead-end. Staying in the Speakeasy was going to get her nowhere, but she had no idea where to go. Beck was like a child with attention disorder; he had already lost interest in helping her find memories, and that was just as well. He was too brash and eager anyway. No patience in that man, and Angel wondered what prompted her to contact him in the first place.

Isalai seemed to be in thought as much as Angel was. Angel sighed, whipped her head in Isalai's direction.

"I'm sick of beating around the bush today," Angel said, "so I'm just going to ask outright: Why are you here? You're too mousy and quiet to frequent a place like the Speakeasy. What's your story?" Angel didn't really expect an answer, and that was just fine. She was tired and grumpy and just wanted to get the evening over with.

Invaders from another land...these foreigners. They are deluded by their quest for memories; memories, those fickle ideas, those fantasies, which continue to elude us, which will always elude us, so long as we continue to exist in this warped reality...

"Another foreigner, you say?" Seebach said, purposely avoiding the issue of his wife. It was a mistake to bring it up...

"Yes, another foreigner. However, this one doesn't seem to be a part of..." Big Ear began.

"Yes, yes, the Union," Seebach concluded as he lazily waved his hand. 'What was that fool Rosewater thinking, letting foreigners into Paradigm?'

Michael Seebach shook his head, then rose to his feet, throwing a sideways glance at the informant. Reaching into his pocket, the former reporter drew a roll of dollar bills, and casually tossed it onto the table. Big Ear glared at him, before covering the money with his newspaper. The glass remained untouched in his hand.

"Well, thank you for the...memories," Seebach said, as he started to walk away from the table.

"There's something else you ought to know," Big Ear said, stopping the former reporter in his tracks. He quickly turned on his heels, and puled his hat down, further lengthening the shadow over his face. A few patrons turned to look at this man, then began whispering amongst themselves.

"Out with it then," Seebach said impatiently.

"They...they have it," Big Ear said as he re-opened his newspaper.

Big Duo...the Red Megadeus. The Second Big.

Seebach nodded, and turned back towards the exit of the establishment. It was still pouring outside, even harder than before. He passed the bar, casting a quick glance at Rosewater's former secretary and her companion.

The red megadeus flew through the air, skillfully avoiding the black megadeus' assaults. Yes, Roger Smith was certainly outclassed. He had foolishly wasted his weapons during the initial confrontation, whereas Schwarzwald still had a pair of aces, ready to play at any time...

She was a foreigner, that much was certain. Why Rosewater was doing business with these outsiders was anyone's guess, and was a puzzle neither Seebach nor Schwarzwald ever solved. Until now, it didn't matter: Roger Smith and Schwarzwald were the only ones with the megadei, there were no others...

Flames spread over the city, as three Bigs marched forward: black, red, and white...

Seebach shook his head and grinned. Whatever the Union was up to, it certianly pertained to the megadei. If Rosewater had Big Duo, he was certainly in the process of rebuilding it.

'Saving me a fair amount of time,' the former reporter thought to himself as he stepped into the rain. He glanced towards the sky, the domed sky, the cloudy sky, the sky without a sun...

'It is...funny, in its own way. The sky was always missing something...the people expect light to come down from above. Yet...no one really remembers what this light was, only that it...well, was.'

Seebach stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked through the flooded streets. A vicious wind wrapped around him, threatening him, trying to push him back.

As stubborn as the wind was, however, Seebach was even more so. Nothing would prevent him from his next destination. There was still...one last string which needed to be wrapped.

'I must struggle through...one last Act. Then, and only then, can I return home.'

Seebach stopped for a moment and took off his hat, tossing it to the ground. He raised his head towards the sky, letting the water pound into his face and cascade down his cheeks, his nose, his eyes, his lips...

'Emelia...please wait a little longer.'

Emelia felt her mind step back, her body aching to move away from this man. The words struck her heart as she realized the weight of them. Quickly she looked to her left, if her memory served correctly, there should be a window behind his desk that overlook the city. Indeed, the window was there, but the view did not match that of her mind’s eye. Michael had specifically requested his office when he had been with the company long enough, and his window had overlooked an edge of the town, closer to the outside of the domes. He had told her that it gave him inspiration to look out and know that there was a world beyond this one. The window served as a reminder.

But now, now, the window overlooked the heart of the city. The hustle and butstle of the world her husband had tried so hard to wake up. A world that was fake and based on the image of the past when the sun shone and plants bloomed.

Emelia turned her head quickly to the President and took a small step back.

“Sir, this isn’t my husband’s office is it? You moved it, didn’t you? I remember a window that overlooked the edge of the domes, not the center of the city,” she spoke as calmly as she could muster, pointing.

He smiled and nodded to her question, placing the photo back in its rightful place. She let her hand fall at her side as a tint of fear began to grip her.

What did this man want?

"...The question is, of what one finds, how much of it does one comprehend? And how much of it could you comprehend before..."

Emelia remembered his question, masked in the statement. She wanted to smile, but she feared this man.

Fear, she thought, remembering one of Schwarzwald's writings, It is vital, but here, no, I should not fear him, but I fear his power...I fear his control

Her brown eyes lifted to look confidently into his face.

“You found information on it,” she thought out loud, “but you didn’t understand a word he wrote, did you? That’s why you wanted me here, to be the interpreter, the key to waking it or others.”

She knew she was treading somewhere unsafe, at any moment, he could grab her, lock her up and throw away the key.

Maybe...I should lay low, be his puppet, but Schwarz...Michael would not like that, but he would not like her being smart either. I need to make my own choices.

'Michael,' she thought 'please come back soon. Everything is turning upside down.'

Alex spoke, bringing her from her thoughts.

(OOC: last post for the night. See ya )

"You're amazingly perceptive," Alex muttered, his eyes narrowing, "for the wife of that fool Schwarzwald. I need you as much as I need that man standing beside you."

"Sir?" Freddy asked, his voice almost bearing a hint of confusion. Alex turned to him, contempt in his eyes. The android took a step back.

"I wasn't speaking to you, Detective. Now, Mrs. Seebach", he continued, putting his hand heavily down upon her shoulder. "You weren't brought here on my orders, that I can assure you. I imagine that the detective has his own motives."

Alex removed his hand, and strode over to the window. He gazed out upon the domed world before him for several seconds before speaking again. " But I do require your assistance. You see, I did read every word on every paper that Schwarzwald wrote, not including, of course, the ones that burned to cinders in that accursed apartment of his."

The President turned to the two in a jerky, twisting movement, his eyes wide with an insane fury. "I understood his words! But I couldn't comprehend his's words!"

He strode towards her, raising his fist as if in a motion to strike Emelia. Instead, he slammed it into Seebach's desk. The desk shook with the force of his blow, the surface cracking under his hand. The photo of Emelia toppled off, hitting the ground. The glass cracked apart, scattering across the floor.

Alex took several deep, gasping breaths, but quickly regained his former, almost genial appearence. "I'd like to ask you something, Mrs. Seebach." he stated, straightening his tie. "Do you honestly believe the people of Paradigm City could comprehend his Truth without ending up just as he did?"

He shook his head, laughing under his breath. "No." he said, "No, they couldn't. But I have a strange feeling that you can."

Alex suddenly paused, as if considering something. "I spoke with your husband on a regular basis when he was still working for Paradigm Press." he said. "You know, this was the office I first offered to him. He rejected it. I let him have the office he wished to have... of course, it came with a twenty-five percent pay cut and lack of any bonuses, perks, or even insurance, but he was willing to give it all up just to have that one office. He should've taken this one." Alex concluded, staring out the window at the fake, corrupt city below him.

"It has such a lovely view."

--------------------------------------

"Are the systems responding well?"

"Everything is working properly."

"Then she'll be active soon?"

"Within at most five hours."

"Good."

"What do we have here?"

Seebach opens his eyes, though he does not lower his head. A trio of individuals, all wearing expensive black suits with matching shades stand behind the former reporter. The lead raises a pistol and points it at Seebach's head. He cocks the gun, and Seebach can only raise both his hands into the air.

"What is it--" he begins, but he is interrupted as the butt of the pistol comes crashing down on his head. It is a hard hit, forcing Seebach to his knees. Blood trickles down into the flooded street, a strand of scarlet among azure waves. A ribbon of light streaks across the sky, followed by a loud crash.

"I will do the talking," growls the man, his words saturated with venom. He spits on Seebach's back and presses the barrel of his gun to the former reporter's spine.

Seebach coughs, and one of the other men kicks him in the side. The former reporter spits up some blood, reintroducing a scarlet tinge to the flowing streams. The rain pounds on his back like a drum, and another flash of lightning illuminates the sky.

"Michael Seebach, what a pleasant suprirse," says the lead aggressor, his voice barely above a whisper. He presses the gun even harder against Seebach's back, causing him to whimper in pain.

"You should not have come back," says another aggressor as he, too, draws a gun. He kneels before the fallen reporter and presses it against his forehead.

Seebach does not move, and would appear dead if not for the rythmic rise and fall of his chest, complemented by his labored breathing. His lips press against the cold, wet concrete as the third aggressor shoves his face into the ground.

"Alex Rosewater has not been pleased with you. Perhaps you should have stayed dead?" the first aggressor taunts, his pistol still pressed against Seebach's spine, as he draws a knife from his belt with his other hand.

"So," Seebach coughs. One of the aggressors strikes him across the head again, opening another wound. Seebach still remains consious, however, even as pain spreads throughout his body. The sound of the rain blends with the laughter of Rosewater's men, and darkness threatens to overtake him. Still, Seebach fights on, determined to continue...

"Is Rosewater afraid of a ghost?"

The lead aggressor cocks his gun, bringing his mouth to Seebach's ear.

"If you were...any other man, Michael," he says in a hoarce whisper, "You would not be breathing now. I would ensure it myself."

"Habib," Seebach mumbles, "Have you forsaken me?"

Habib rises to his feet and motions to the other aggressors. They, too, rise to their feet and withdraw their weapons. Habib, however, keeps his pistol pointed at the former reporter; he smirks, and as a bolt of lightning strikes the ground he pulls the trigger.

Seebach is left lying in the flooded streets, blood oozing from his right shoulder.

An eternity passes, and the former reporter begins to shiver. The pain intensifies, and his vision blurs. Still, he struggles to his feet, his right arm hanging limp to his side. Seebach staggers as he regains his footing, and nearly slips. He stares at the ground for a moment, and kneels down. With his left hand, he picks up the tattered remains of his hat.

That hat...it had been a gift from Emelia, so very long ago.

'I've...abandoned her, too,' is Seebach's last concious thought as he falls face-first into the ground. Heaven sheds ever more tears and screams in agony as he's swallowed by the abyss.

Snake looks at his watch, "Please forgive me, but I must be going back to the bar. If you need assistance, here's the frequency of my communicator. (hands Roger a piece of paper with the number "13.666" on it.) Also, I wish to finish this conversation, but I told Angel that I would return."

After that, Snake headed out. "damn, it's raining." He thought as he headed for the bar.

* * * * * *

Snake arrived at the bar, trenchcoat drenched. He noticed that 'Isalai' had regained concience, "How are you feeling, 'Isalai'?" Then he turns to Angel, "No, Roger's not with me. I wouldn't look like a drowned rat if he were. I should have driven my car."

Angel was actually surprised that Isalai agreed to tell her what was going on. "I'm not going to hurt you, you know," she said quietly. "But.. you could say that it's my job to find out these things." Isalai apeared unsure of what to make of this, and remained quiet.


She turned toward Snake. "Not that I'm not glad to see you again, but you look terrible," she muttered. "Isalai here wants to go elsewhere right now. But.." she looked around. Beck was glaring at her from the bar. Angel sighed, stood up. "Excuse me a moment, will you?"


Beck whirled his barstool around as Angel approached, hunched over his drink. She slid onto a barstool next to Beck, wrapped one arm around his shoulder. "Jason! I see you've found something else to do."

"Oh, now you want to talk? After blowing me off for Mr. Red Eyes over there?"

"That's not how it was at all, and you know it. I'm just doing my job. And now that it's done, we can continue with our original plan." Beck was giving her an annoyed stare, more interested in his drink that what she had to say. Angel rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll cut to the chase. I'm leaving with those two so I can continue with the plan. Preferably without you."


"What? How is that continuing with the plan if I'm not coming with you?" He shook his head. "There's no way I'm going to stay here. Besides, " Beck glanced toward Alan, who was still motionless a few seats down, "he's really giving me the creeps." Beck nodded towards Isalai and Snake. "You've got something on them, and I want to know what's going on. You can't just call me up, drag me out here, and then blow me off and leave without me! Are you crazy? I've got far better things to do than sit around here doing nothing." A sly grin spread across his face. "Or better yet, if you don't take me, this story will be all over underground Paradigm within an hour. You'll have every informant and spy tracking your moves. You certainly don't want that, do you?"

"Fine, fine! Don't make a scene, will you?" Angel sighed. She waved Snake and Isalai over.

"We're in a bit of a predicament," she said quietly. "If you'll remember, I originally came here to talk with him." She gestured to Beck. "And blowing him off to go with you two would be rather rude.. so he needs to come with us. You've got to trust him too." She figured telling them of Beck's threat would do no good; she would have to trust that he would do as she said. She could tell that Snake and Isalai really didn't like the looks of Beck and were not about to jump in a car with him. Angel was stuck in a rut. "Look, he's not as bad as he looks, I swear. He's just.. really gaudy." Beck scowled at her words, but she continued before he could break in. "I know you don't trust me as it is, but I promise you I'm not working for anyone but myself, even if it appears otherwise. And Jason here's the same." Angel drew in a deep breath. "Jason and I have memories too. Memories that we really shouldn't have, and we want to know why." Angel was stretching a bit on the truth here, but at this point it didn't matter. "And you two.. or, at least Snake.. also have memories you logically shouldn't have. And that's what we're after. Not some sinister hidden agenda. And definitely not for Paradigm Corp." She sighed again, looked each of them in the eye. "So I'll leave it up to you two. You decide if you trust us enough to help you."


Outside the rain had gotten worse, the lightning more dangerous. Angel grinned. "If we're going to go, we ought to do so now, while the weather is like this. There won't be many people out, and we can avoid being seen." Snake and Isalai still looked unsure, though. Angel tried was trying not to be too pushy, but it was in her nature to be so. "It's your decision. Either way, I can't stay here, not now that he-" she gestured toward Alan "- knows that I'm here."

OOC: I meant (in character) that I should have driven to Roger's in my car, which is still at the bar.

BIC: Snake saw how uncomfortable 'Isalai' was, "We can take my car. It is a Griffion, so it is comfy. Sorry if I made you nervous, 'Isalai', I just wanted to know if you were okay. So if you want to dump Beck, and I don't blame you, we can use my car."

Snake thought a minute, then turned to Angel, "Angel, why exactly do you need my memories? They have nothing to do with you unless you have been chosen to pilot a Megaduce. What do you intend to do with the memories?"


".....Roger, I think that means that you are a partial Schizo-fighter...."

That thought kept running through his head while he waited for an answer to his offer.

(OOC: D'oh! Sorry, Snake, I thought you meant you'd left your car at Roger's place. Which, now that I think about it, doesn't make any sense at all. I should've read that closer. Anyway, I changed my last post a little since we won't be needing Beck's car after all.)


Angel sighed. She was getting impatient, both with herself and with Isalai and Snake. "Look, I don't intend to do anything with the memories. I don't want to do anything that will harm you, I swear it. I just.." She sighed, shrugged in deafeat. "I have to know. I have to know why my own memories are so confused. I have to know why, all of a sudden, someone like you has shown up here, Snake." She stared down at her lap. "Yes, at first I was seeking memories under someone else's orders, but I'm past that now. Now I work for no one but myself." She looked Snake in the eyes. "Is that a good enough explanation for you? I don't know what else to say that might make you trust me."

She turned to Emilia. "You don't need to be afraid of Jason. He's less harmful than he looks. He's just a big gaudy teddy bear." She reached over, pinched Beck's cheek. "Isn't that right?" Beck scowled.

"I told you not to call me Jason in public!" He practically spat the name "Jason". "My name is Beck Gold."

Angel couldn't help but laugh. "See?"

Snake looked at Beck, "How about I call you idiot? You still don't amuse me." Then he looked at Angel, "And as for my memories, I should have them, they are mine." He knew that Angel wouldn't know what this meant, but she shouldn't. However, Roger did.

"If he must come, though I don't approve of it, fine. I still don't want him in my car. He might ruin it with that yellow thing he calls a suit. So Mr. Jason Beck must keep his mouth shut unless he wants to go flying out of the car while it is moving. If you don't like that option, don't bother coming. I'm going to wait in my car."

With that, Snake left the bar, and a car can be heard firing up.

Emelia shook. This was probably what he wanted, to scare her, to give her an intense fear so that she’ll tell him what she knew, if she knew anything.

She wanted to kick herself. One because of this fear of the unlimited power that Alex Rosewater possesed. Also, for knowing that R. Frederick had lead her to the office for his own gains, whatever they were.

Who were these people? Why did they want to investigate her husband’s disappearence, his knowledge of the truth? Couldn’t they see, she heard herself say, the Truth, couldn’t they comprehend the reality? Everything is fake, everything is a replica. Nothing is real.

Nothing is real.

Alex Rosewater is driven for power, she mentioned, he probably wants to build a whole army of megas, or maybe he wants to beat the Black One just to show the city who is in charge. Yet he only has Duo...unless there was a connection between him and the white one...

“How can you say this is a lovely view when what you see is just a fabrication? Out there,” she pointed, “out there is a collection of people oblivious to the Truth, oblivious to the world outside of the domes. You don’t comprehend his thoughts because you don’t comprehend that out there, outside of the domes is a whole other city. Everything out there is harsher, realer... My husband gave up all of those ‘benefits’ in order to see the realities of everyday life, not to stare at some fabrication.”

She sighed and looked upon that happy world, that world where happiness could be bought and not gained.

“His office showed him the outside because he thought on the outside,” she spoke softly. “When you can see beyond the lies, the hidden secrets that you know so well of, only then will you be able to understand, sir.”

She face him, her chin raising, “Why do you avert your eyes from the Truth? ‘If you always avert your eyes from it, you will remain nothing more than a puppet.’ Just like every one of us.”

"So, sir, if you pilot it, what does that accomplish if you are just a puppet?" she concluded. She refused to add the thought that he was a puppet to his father, Gordon Rosewater.

While sitting in his car, Snake called Datsun and left him a message, "Datsun, I was told that you wanted to speak with me. Here's the frequency: 13.666. Contact me later, I have an appointment now." After that, Snake waited for his party to arrive at his car, hopefully without Jason Beck.


OOC: Tifiara, don't worry about playing Beck. I think you play him well. Of course, I might be the only one that might not be able to play Beck.

"Well, that's one." Snake says as 'Isalai' approaches his car. He opens the door, welcoming her with the best courtesy he could offer. With this came a smart-mouthed remark in a rich accent, "After you, Madame." Snake couldn't help but chuckle.

"Alright." Snake said in a lagging way. He gets the door for Angel, then slams it in Beck's face. "I only get doors for ladies.... Wait, in that case...." Snake opens the door for Beck, "Ladies first, Hahaha." Snake laughed at how angry this made Beck.