『 X:\Sources>bootrec /convo 』
K1-B0′s response was terribly muted considering the magnitude of the news he’d just received, but what else was there to be done for it? To be told that he’d woken up over a hundred years after destroying the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles was a shock of course, but was it really any worse than anything he’d already gone through? He’d been told that his entire world, his hopes, his dreams, his goals and desires were all made up and written out for him by someone else. That his memories were falsified, that his beloved father had never existed to begin with, and that he and his classmates were to kill each other for the televised entertainment of millions of people the world over. That he had been created explicitly to further their entertainment and to broadcast a snuff-film-turned-hit-tv show through his eyes. The realization of the implications that X had given him were a sharp blow to his already tattered emotional state, but after everything else he’d gone through it almost made sense. It was the logical next step to the trauma conga line he’d been dealt, wasn’t it?
It wasn’t… The worst news. There was next to no chance that any of the others had managed to survive for so long, and the thought brought a sharp, horrid ache into his chest, but there was still the chance that they had lived. If they had gotten away and lived long, happy lives outside of the killing game, then even if it were all without him it would have all been worth it, right? He’d meant to sacrifice himself anyway. He was created to be the Ultimate Hope Robot, wasn’t he? His programming wouldn’t allow him to lose hope.
All the mental self-reassurance in the world couldn’t stop his knees from quaking and his lip from quivering anyway. K1-B0 lacked a true crying function and was physically incapable of shedding tears, but his eyes still quivered, and he still made a strange, quick sound not unlike a stifled sob. Everything was going to be fine — he couldn’t break down in front of a stranger. Professor Idabashi would just tell him to—
— Professor Idabashi didn’t exist. Team Danganronpa built him. The sounds he made were mechanical, harsh, jarring, like a dial-up tone creeping ever-closer into a fever pitch cacophony, but from the way his shoulders shook and the faraway look to his unfocused lenses it was clear that he was, to the best of his physical ability, crying.
"… I… I s-see. Th-Thank you… I don’t… Have anything to repay you with. I can answer whatever questions you have, but… Has it really been that long?? I’m… I don’t mean to accuse you of presenting me with false information, but it’s just a lot.”
---- Something about the way Keebo initially responded... that deadpan, muted tone... it somehow hurt worse than the idea of seeing him cry or mourn. Like he was used to this level of grief or disappointment. As someone who’s been through hardship after hardship, carrying the fate of the world on his shoulders, X feels as if he could relate... but at the same time, he has no idea what sort of tragedies befell Keebo. Surely something horrible, given the fact that he was unearthed in ruins, human remains present, and seemed horribly shaken by the fact that he couldn’t find these people.
Of course, that only worsened, as X noted his posture worsen, and his lip tremble with tears that never came. Older model... probably couldn’t simulate tears as well as a reploid could. But the sentiment was all the same, and X understood just fine what the body language meant. Hopefully he could help the poor robot find closure, but given the apparent timespan between the fall of this building and the erection of practically a whole new world? Again, X isn’t hopeful. The ones in the picture looked to be teenagers, so if one of them had a particularly healthy life, then... maybe. Just maybe ONE of them was out there, holed up in a nursing home somewhere. But, X was incredibly doubtful of that possibility. Humans... don’t live that long. Nowhere near as long as reploids, or even the robots of yore, apparently.
---- “ I’m... I’m sorry. ” His own expression falters a bit, and he has to choke back something, likely the very same tears that the Ultimate Robot couldn’t hope to shed. X was far more capable of crying than Keebo was, and many people would probably chide him for being too emotional. He could hear Zero poking fun at him for it now, in fact. But, in his eyes, he couldn’t help but feel pangs of guilt, worry, and overall sorrow for this poor soul. One thing Dr. Cain could never replicate when he reverse-engineered Dr. Light’s schematics... is the fact that X has a heart. He feels more, thinks deeper than any other reploid... and has been told numerous times that this fact makes him incredibly special. But right now, it feels like a curse... because he can only think about how much he wished he could have done something to help Keebo.
Focus, X. You’ll have time to be upset later, but for now... keep moving. He tugs Keebo along again, shaking his head, before speaking up.
“ If you could try and recall what happened at that site, it’d be helpful. Everyone back at HQ will want a status report from me, so it’d help to start putting one together now. ”