BLASTOFF !

          no one & nothing can escape the science of alternate universes coexisting , not even dread - despite what he , himself , may think.  once upon a time he was fully convinced he was the last of them - the last of any trace of an offworld creation to walk the dimensions.  in light of recent discovery - or maybe not as recent as we think - contact was made with six others.  the last of them.

He finds himself curious at the way the red moves across the other’s LED screen, momentarily wondering what sort of shapes or patterns could be made. Though he refocuses on the present, after the robot’s done laughing. Done talking. Armadillo is almost amused.

“I wouldn’t say They’re blind, They just don’t care. Don’t care about the universe or the planet, only the island. The island is Their playground, the people here are Their toys. And you keep kickin down Their sandcastle… Which is why, I’m takin you in.”

His steps move quick, walking in a stride that brings him closer and closer to his target. The way Dread is crouched forward makes it perfect. Perfect, for the soldier to boop the robot’s screen right where a nose would be.

“Someone owes me 50 bucks~ And here you said you weren’t touchable?”

          dread has no opinions on the matter , no quarrel with the selfishness of humans who would rather watch others of their kind suffer than to save their own lives.  in fact , he finds it interesting - and if he had it in him to give another chuckle , he certainly would , but his train of thought is derailed by the twisted lines of a fleshy fingerprint being tapped against screen.

          a quick act , a lunge forward where hand rested upon knee makes a swift movement to wrap fingers around the man’s wrist before his hand can be tucked back against himself.  dread gives a tug upward , a strong and rough pull towards himself where makeshift face sit inches away from human’s as display shifts , twists and swirls until the shape of two symmetrical eyes matches up with the position of the other’s who still remains lower than him.

“Dread–” 

Arguments between the two are the norm, at this point. One misinterpreting the other, one taking something the wrong way, and the both of them getting pissed for no reason, or every reason, depending on the situation or the extremity the other party has done or caused. 

The grip on her wrist is tight – Dread is pissed, as per usual, but she’s never been more confused in her life at a question he’s asked her. What beacon? WHICH beacon? There were so many already that she couldn’t keep track, and the one she could think of was the one that had malfunctioned and taken out the soccer field, and she’d been asleep when that happened. “-what beacon? If you’re going to accuse me of something, at least specify what – or where – it is.” CONT. | @offwrld​

          if there is one thing he can feel just as humanly as possible , besides the bouts of anger that send him storming off from time to time - it’s panic.  dread’s worked hard to create and position every beacon , tried his best to find any connection at all to the other FIVE and bring them into this world - his world - to pull their hushed voices from the depths and shed light.  but he can’t do that if the beacons don’t work.  if those beams don’t tear into time itself and pull remnants from the fold , what is left but wasted time ?

          it isn’t unusual for there to be an argument , and at this point he’s certain over ninety percent of anything they speak in the other’s direction turns into something more than it should be.  but dread is a stubborn machine , something that has always succeeded - up until recently - and so his determination to win is a bit unsettling at times.

A tilt of his head as he listens to the other, watches, and sees that red screened smile. It reminds him of another screened smile, the whole reason of why he’s here. Armadillo shakes his head, laughs as he looks downward.

“Well you are right about one thing… I tend to get everywhere..”

He reaches into his pocket as he speaks, pulling it inside out to let the sand inside the fabric fall out onto the floor beside his feet. He then gives a casual shrug, before he looks back up at the robot.

“But, military personnel don’t need a badge. They don’t need a badge to steal someone away in the night… They don’t need a badge to rip someone apart, piece by piece~”

A dark gleam comes across his sunglasses, an almost feral grin hidden under his mask.

“My boss wants Their hands on you. So damn badly… I can’t wait to see how They pull you apart~ Tell me, do you feel pain? I hope so”

His hands tremble as he speaks, though it’s not out of fear. Like a dog clawing at a gate with it’s prey just on the other side. Oh, how he wants to dig in already.

          dread laughs again , but this time it’s a bit more drawn out - uglier , like it’s fully intended to mock the audience that’s receiving it.  there’s the reminiscent thought of any mention of military personnel , the last encounter dread had with anyone that fell under the description.  protectors of a country.  it’s hilarious , really , to see how fragile even the strongest of humans are when the lives around them are threatened.  selfish.

          “ you’re making empty threats , now . . .  i am virtually untouchable. ” dread leans more , the shadow cast on screen giving the impression that the red bordering LED display is beginning to bleed across the blackness.  “ your boss is blind to the world around them.  you call yourselves soldiers - but you’re the same as everyone else.  incompetent humans who think saving this island will reflect on the entire planet. ”

THERE’S SOMETHING COMFORTING ABOUT HIS VOICE ,  the buzz ,  electronic inflection through circuit strung vocal chords .   he’s the first facet of familiarity she’s found since her arrival ,  and the only person she has been willing to spend her time around since .   she watches screen flicker ,  unfazed ,  merely a robotic equivalent of facial expression .   she furrows her brows and fixes him with a partial — frown in return .

“ I HAVE REASONS . ”   the question seems to dance around in the furthest reaches of the mind — space ,  echoed by a softer ,  more melancholic voice .   {  why must she hurt ?   why must she kill ?  }   “ to protect someone . ”   it’s said pointedly ,  but the answer isn’t directed to him ,  not really .   it’s reflected internally ,  attempts to quieten her companion .   but ,  deep down ,  the widowmaker knows there’s SOME FORM OF SELFISHNESS to her actions ,  in keeping amélie alive  — keeping their shared body alive —  she is keeping herself alive .   (  a cruel act of self — preservation .  )   but she’s free here ,  away from the threat of talon’s grasp ,  so why does she continue to vouch for violence as a first resort ?

see ,  there is a drawback to harbouring the emotions of two people ,  eventually ,  IT ALL BECOMES TOO MUCH ,  it’s an inevitability .   there’s a choice to be made ,  a switch flip :   feel everything   /   feel nothing .   widowmaker took comfort in the latter .   but sometimes ,  emotion is necessary ,  she will lean on it like a crutch of some sort ,  narrowed down ,  fined out ,  LIKE A PIN PRICK .   the moment of the kill is the only thing keeps her focused ,  it brings her back .   

“ it is the only time i feel anything . ”

@offwrld .     /     cont .

          he listens , of course , because even though he has a broken perspective on what things matter to him and what things can be cast out carelessly to sea , he is still a machine.  still competent enough to understand any delusions , explanations , excuses.  dread stands so still , and would seem lifeless if it weren’t for the constant shift of expression upon screen - nothing more than the fluctuation of shapes.  but there is a bit more of a sound when he turns to face her more , shifts away from the console before him and instead decides to give the woman his full attention despite the silence portrayed.  the sound of gears turning , pistons hissing , everything inside to make him move - and then it all dies away again when his movement stops.

          moral panic ?  to what is her definition to a claim such as this when she’s seen how this robot operates when presented with a moral issue ?  but morality is humanly stagnant and decaying faster than this island itself , and dread sees no quarrel with what he sees as wrong and right in the slightest.  he just is.  he just knows.

@offwrld (Continued)-

Irritation boils under his skin as he follows where the robot had scampered off too. A sigh leaving is lips as he looks up to where the other now stands, eyes narrowing under dark sunglasses at how the other seems to breathe. Almost human like.

But he’s not...

The thought passes in his mind, reminding himself what he’s dealing with. Who, he’s dealing with.

“Your land? You got a permit to be here? Don’t think so~”

He huffs as he walks closer to the blue container, but not to close. He’s to short to properly see over the edge if he gets within a certain distance of the thing, and he’s not about to climb it. Not about to risk anything...

“I’ve been ordered to take you in. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way~”

         with this human’s words comes an even more inhuman laugh.  dread saunters forward a bit , cocky , swinging his arms loosely to the side before he bends at the knees to lean over the edge of the crate , look down at the man with a little more than a mocking stare.  display shifts , before a friendly smile is tacked onto the screen.  brilliant , red.

          think of a cat , but how a cat will run away from an outstretched hand , back hunched - fur spiked , lips drawn back and teeth exposed in a hiss ; but imagine it as a robot , hoisting himself onto the blue shipping crate in front of him after a bit of a sprint.  dread catches his balance when he stands up , turns to face the man on which he looks down on , now , for the first time.  chest rises and falls to mimic human reaction , to give the impression that there are actual working lungs beneath that armor.  display sparks to life , the shape of a big red X.

          somehow , during the fade of it all - he’s managed to remember each detail.  maybe not alone , but with the assistance of another of the seven , dread’s kept track of each detail - each flaw - each fuse to light on each bomb and where exactly to place them.  but instead of individual explosions , it’s all connected by one wire , with one common place , with one common goal.  his head turns to face her , the center of crosshair display flickering from something potentially dangerous & to nothing but a pinhole dot.

tagged by :   @veuvebrisee ( thanks (; ) tagging :   @arkangelofwar, @ofromulus, @fclic, & anyone else who wants to.

DREAD     /     THE WARRIOR.

THE WARRIOR ARCHETYPE is tough and courageous, the warrior archetype helps us to set and achieve goals, overcome obstacles and persist through difficult times. however, the warrior archetype also tends to see others as enemies and tends to think in "either/or" terms. in truth, the warrior behaves in a relatively simple way, seeking to simply win in any and every circumstance, no matter what confronts them, including the monsters that live inside the mind and their underlying fear of weakness. their challenge is to bring meaning to what they do, perhaps by choosing their battles wisely, by using courage to succeed, or by developing great self-discipline where needed.

SHADOW SIDE :   the villain. this will manifest itself in your desire to win, even at the expense of other people and their well-being. the villain is also active in your life any time you feel compelled to compromise your principles in order to compete, win, or get your own way. there is also the possibility of perceiving everything as a continuous battle, where virtually everything that happens is a personal slight, threat, or challenge to be confronted.