Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 21, 2021 11:09:09 GMT
Again with S.T.A.R.S. Was 'hello' and 'S.T.A.R.S' all it knew how to say? It would make things a lot more difficult, but at least it knew what he was saying, and from past experiences with Kazan, he knew the language barrier could be overcame.
He thought what it had said over with its strange gesture and scraped up all the very limited knowledge he had on Tyrants. He knew the Tyrant he encountered at Raccoon City was made to eliminate the witnesses, so maybe it was the same deal, expect this time it was specialized for S.T.A.R.S. Did all the Tyrants in Raccoon City have a specific task? He remembers the memento Ben had left behind about the Tyrant's purpose, but maybe it was to specifically wipe out police officers? But then why have another programmed just to eliminate S.T.A.R.S?
"Why just S.T.A.R.S?" Leon asked thoughtfully, his temples aching with how many questions he had for it, but he needed to know for the sake of his own sanity.
That... is a good question and one Nemesis does not have an answer to. It was made to hunt targets, S.T.A.R.S. members were just its first mission. But as for why they were targets Nemesis didn't know. They just... were. It doesn't like this train of thought. It was made to follow orders, not to question them. But it had also been made to think and react, to observe and draw conclusions. So which was more important, obedience or curiosity?
The Tyrant lets out a small noise of distress, the sound out of place coming from such a large and intimidating creature. Nemesis grabs at its arms and ducks its head, half convinced there would be an electric shock to punish it for not knowing the answer.
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 21, 2021 12:50:32 GMT
At first, Leon didn't understand what he was seeing and violently flinched back when the Nemesis moved. His head was spinning, and Leon for sure thought that the final thought he'd have is 'it's going to kill me. It tricked me and now it's going to try and hurt me' but the impending pain of an iron fist never came. For a moment, he just stood there, trying to will his body down from the sudden adrenaline high. It didn't kill him, didn't even try to. It just fucking whimpered and curled in on itself.
He didn't know what to say. He didn't know if he should get close, leave it alone or try to talk to it. He didn't understand what was happening. It was weird, because it almost looked scared, but Umbrella wouldn't allow for its Tyrants to feel emotion, right? Emotions would only get in the way of the mission. It didn't need emotions, only needed obedience and its unrelenting strength. It was a weapon, an object, a machine to be used to accomplish a task. Was this an unwanted side-effect of its intelligence? But why was it scared of all things? What was there to be afraid off when you're a walking mass of pure muscle with such a high regenerative factor you're almost immortal? Things were supposed to be scared of it, not the other way around. Was it something he said?
"What's wrong?" He asks it, afraid of getting close but curious of why it reacted that way. He had only asked it why it hunted S.T.A.R.S, why did it react so strongly? "Did I do something you didn't like?"
There is no shock because this is not the lab and there are no scientists watching it thinks? It has always been watched. Nemesis knows these things and yet it fears the pain nonetheless. Irrational. It is supposed to be smarter than this but it isn't and surely there will be consequences for this failure. It barely hears the human speak to it, whatever question he'd asked now is lost on the Tyrant. This does not help it calm because it is supposed to listen especially when spoken to; its hearing is excellent and this should be easy but it's not.
Nemesis worries at one of the wrappings stapled to its arm, a bad habit Umbrella hadn't managed to train out of it yet. "It's a prototype, there are bound to be a few bugs." The words of a doctor talking to a man in combat gear echo in its ears. Mistakes were expected of it but would not be tolerated and that was just a fact of life. It had to be better than its predecessors, it had to or its creators would lose out on things like 'promotion' and 'budget'. Nemesis doesn't know what those things are but they were important to its creators, more important than it would ever be. They could always replace it with another Tyrant after all.
The huge creature curls up a bit more, hoping its thoughts would quiet soon.
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 24, 2021 6:51:05 GMT
Leon feels awful. He doesn't know what to do and it's grating on his conscience like nails on a chalk board, the pain throbbing in his head as he watches the Nemesis uselessly. His morality is telling him to approach and try and comfort the Tyrant, but his body and mind is telling him that this is a creature that has probably killed so many people even before S.T.A.R.S. This thing had hunted down and killed real people in Raccoon city, had caused so much destruction and hurt, that it didn't deserve any kindness. It didn't attack him because of an unknown reason, yes, but he doubts it was because of the goodness of its own heart. Did it even have a sense of morals? Or was it just as mindless as the zombies.
But it looks so scared and hurt, Leon thinks to himself, almost a question in his words as he fails to understand the Tyrant before him. If it was a mindless machine, it wouldn't feel fear. It doesn't need to, and yet it still does. The constant tug and pull was borderline painful, not sure what to think of the Nemesis. Was it evil? Was it aware of what it was doing? Can you really call a machine evil, or is the person behind the creation evil? But that's on the basis that the Nemesis didn't feel anything. It can't be a machine, because it clearly feels and breathes just like him, yet somehow, it almost seems to lack all autonomy. A weapon once controlled by Umbrella, now under the influence of the Entity. So less like a machine, more like a living puppet.
He didn't want to leave it here, but he didn't want to stay with it either. There wasn't much he could do anyways.
"Come on, stay with me, buddy, " Leon says, taking a very careful step forward and cringing at his own movement, scared of changing this thing's mind about not killing him. "There's gotta be something that can calm you down. What did the big guys at Umbrella do when you got like this?"
Its gaze snaps to the human as soon as he moves, the creature hypervigilant in its fear. The man still smells like fear but his words are soft and Nemesis is so baffled that it forgets its fear for a moment. The gentle tone instinctively soothes something in it, makes the panic start to recede. But something else in its chest begins to ache with longing and it doesn't understand.
It hears the question this time and almost wishes it hadn't. What did Umbrella do when it got like this? Simple, it would have never been allowed to get to this point without another shock being delivered or in extreme cases it would be sedated. There was comfort in knowing that no matter what it did nothing would change. Yet now, everything was different. New rules, targets were only targets sometimes, the strange thing with claws in its thoughts; almost familiar to some faded part of it that remembers the time before the parasite.
Still the man's words are a reminder for it to get a strangle hold on its own emotions, to shove them away where they couldn't be seen by Umbrella. Out of sight, out of mind after all.
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 24, 2021 16:21:42 GMT
He doesn't know why, but it was seemingly beginning to calm down. Whatever had made it panic (?) didn't matter anymore, nor does Leon even really know what caused it in the first place. He needs answers, and they're so achingly close to him he can almost reach out and touch it, but he refrains from asking any questions about Umbrella or anything that might stress it out.
Is me talking to it working? I sure hope so. "Do you want me to keep talking? Nod your head 'yes' like this if you do." He makes the action very clear and animated, making sure that the Nemesis was watching him and knew what he was doing so it could copy.
Jesus... What the hell is going on, Leon thinks, trying to hard to process every tidbit of information that's been hurled at his brain in the past few minutes. It all meshed together into a storm in his head, nothing making past the thunder and ferocity of his own internal monologuing. He realized that there was so much more he didn't know about Umbrella, so much he didn't know about the creatures that have tried to kill him in Raccoon City, how little he knows about Tyrants and everything else in the world. His own world was in chaos. His own world didn't even make sense to him either. One moment I'm fighting for my life, the next I'm trying to calm down a monster from, what, a panic attack? Is that what's going on right now? Is it having some kind of panic attack? This has got to be the second weirdest day I've had.
In the absence of adrenaline pumping through its veins the Tyrant is tired. Yes it had the endurance and stamina to track targets for days without rest but it still had its limits. It was always tired in one way or another. Still it does want the human to keep talking in that soft tone it's never heard before. The effect was akin to the sedatives that it was dosed with when it became too unruly for the doctors' liking, but gentler. It didn't make its vision swim or its limbs shake, it was just... calming?
It nods back at the man, shoulders slumping a little and perhaps it was blinking a bit more than usual. Strange.
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 24, 2021 17:52:00 GMT
"Hey now, don't be falling asleep on me, " Leon says not unkindly, continuing to speak in that same gentle voice. "Actually, maybe you should. Get some rest - you seem really tired." That, and I have no idea how to escape this situation if it doesn't fall asleep.
He briefly thinks about how he doesn't really actually need to sleep in the Fog. He can, and it's nice to if you aren't disturbed by nightmares, but it somehow wasn't a need here, just like eating and drinking. That didn't stop Leon from passing out when he had his first chance to, so purely and utterly exhausted and his body bruised and battered on the brink of collapse. It was painful just breathing, and he needed a break from just existing for a moment, so he found the closest snug-looking tree and laid against it. He instantly fell asleep. When he woke up, fatigue still hung heavy on his shoulders, and maybe it made him feel worse emotionally now that he had the time to really think, but God, his body desperately needed it.
It's probably the same for you, huh? Leon asks no one but himself, mulling on his thoughts. How long has it been since you've had a break? I doubt Umbrella lets you have vacations.
Leon scoffs with a slight smile when he finds the Nemesis' eyelids drooping further, then immediately catches himself with how fond it sounded. It still felt so unreal that he was here with the Nemesis, and the sudden emotion caught him off guard.
Not really the time to think about that. He instead focuses his energy back onto focusing on the Nemesis who seems to grow sleepier by the second, judging by how its posture goes slack. "There you go, you can relax now. Trust me, some sleep will do you good."
It doesn't take long for the creature to begin drifting off, the nagging of its conditioning quiet for once. It just lets the human's words wash over it, not truly processing what is being said to it and just enjoying the gentle voice.
It's strange to not have the urge to be of use, that drive to try and prove itself worthy of any scrap of approval it could. Its mind has gone quiet, and not in the way it does when Nemesis hunts. Instead of single-minded focus that drowns out everything else its thoughts drift aimlessly, fuzzy and indistinct. It idly notes the odd colour of the human's hair. It's a much lighter colour than the other humans it's seen.
Eventually keeping its head up and eyes open is more effort than Nemesis cares to spend and it lets its chin rest against its chest with a sigh. Exhausted as the Tyrant is it isn't long before it's asleep, chest rumbling softly as it dozes off.
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 25, 2021 4:17:33 GMT
That's odd... Leon muses to himself, looking up and down the Tyrant's relaxed form. Does that mean it's asleep now?
He takes note of the low sound it makes in its chest, something akin to how a big cat would purr but slightly more guttural, almost like human snoring. It was strange, the way it behaved, how it seems hellbent on ending his existence in trials but remaining seemingly passive outside of them. Maybe it was just conserving its energy for the hunt and found no need to waste precious time chasing after him if it had no reason to. It mustn't be like some of the other killers who enjoy killing, the ones that are needlessly cruel and smile at the sight of pure agony. It just existed as it was and fulfilled its purpose like a well trained solider, strong and mindless, loyal to its commander. Leon didn't know that its lack of resistance to its orders made it still just as bad, or if it made it deserving of forgiveness. Maybe this was the Entity's doing, and the Tyrant sleeping soundly before him wasn't the same Tyrant in Raccoon City.
Either way, Leon doesn't plan on finding out right now with the Nemesis resting, his long-awaited opportunity to escape. It felt almost... weird to leave the room? He wasn't sad and was more than enthusiastic to put as many meters between him and the Nemesis as possible, but he also felt bad for just leaving it there. He doesn't want to disturb it though, and he doubts there's anything he can do to make its slumber more comfortable, so after scanning it one more time to assure that it's really asleep, he slips out of the room and makes his way down the west hallway, keeping his footsteps as light as possible.
Leon stops at the door to the west office, heavy hearted. Why do I feel like this? He almost whines, wishing the feeling would just stop. Everything was weird and messed up and confusing, and now Leon didn't know if he should be even scared anymore. He wasn't scared, and it concerned him. He just felt tired and miserable and wanting this day to be over. With no one around to watch him, he let his façade of confidence go for a single moment and allowed himself to doubt everything he knew about the world and himself.
But he was quick to shake it off because there was just no time to let himself be miserable, no time to actually sit down and process these emotions he was feeling. He took a deep breath and entered the west office, stopping at Elliot's desk to let himself bathe in the guilt he felt in failing to save him, let himself be scarred by the image of him without his lower body. I lost everyone I met that day. Everything I touched just fucking died, and there was not a damn thing I could do about it.
Maybe not everyone, he swiftly added with hope because he needed it so desperately right now. I hope Claire is doing okay.
He stops at his desk one more time and pauses. It immediately caught his eye because he knows what his own desk looks like by now, having gone past here and just freezing in front of that 'Welcome Leon' banner that pains him so many times he's memorized the layout. It's a cassette player, slick black and brand new like it hasn't been touched yet. What was it doing here and how did it get in the office at all? Weird... He muses to himself as he gingerly takes the player in his hands, examining it with caution. He looks around for any telltale signs of someone being here and finds none.
Okay, that's normal, Leon thinks sarcastically, pocketing the player away. This is officially the second weirdest day I've had.