π DREAM π chaos, duplicate the human slaves

[contaminations]

The air smells clinical, chemical. As if it was bred in a tube and died there before filling space, purporting to sustain life. The room in which he (you) stands is without doubt a corridor, too narrow to be other, but he (you) cannot see an end; it stretches. The floor is metal, and the walls; he (you) walks and the soles of his (your) boots send

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[imperialwill]

[Stumbles- gasps in surprise, in horror. She sees Asch (sees him moving, not like these-), but rather than running over to him, making sure he's all right, she simply looks around her frantically.

Those eyes, that face- there's so much red and it's nauseating and what is he doing to them all?

She wants to stop him, wants to do something. She can only scream his name]

Asch!

[contaminations]

[His limbs feel weighted, reflexes dulled, his breathing labored. There's too many of them, and just when he understands yes, this is it, finally, I'm going to die--

his name, in her voice. Everything stops. Every reflection, every duplicate body, even those writhing and crying on the ground in agony; all turn to face her, unblinking.

Except Asch. He looks away, an arm against the metal wall supporting him.]

Get out of here, Natalia.

[imperialwill]

I will not! Not without you-

[She makes her way toward him the best she can, trying not to trip or stumble]

[contaminations]

[One of them moves. Stilted at first, with clunky, robotic movements, then tentative like a child learning to walk, then with confident ease. He stands in her path.]

Natalia, [says the replica] it's Luke. Where are you going? I'm right here. That guy's just leftovers.

[imperialwill]

[She's always had a problem confusing them - Asch and Luke - a problem of substitution and childhood dreams that, in the end, were left in her hands to accomplish and mold into reality. She quickly stops, takes in the form of Luke before her. Bright green eyes, bright red hair, that soft pressure of confidence.

Luke-

But she's become much stronger, now. Luke is Luke and Asch is Asch - Luke is her dear cousin, that stupid little boy who makes mistakes but atones with all his heart. And Asch is the distant memory of a promise that she's always chasing.

She frowns, clearly unimpressed.]

How dare you refer to him in such a way! Stand aside- I have not called for you.

[contaminations]

[Hurt registers on Luke's face. He takes a step back, but not aside.]

Isn't that what he called us--me? Trash, replica, reject... How can you pick him?

[Against the wall, Asch's breathing still hasn't recovered. They're all just waiting. Either way, he's going to -- and he doesn't want her to see it.]

Because you are trash, [Asch says, vitriol staining his voice.] All of you, just die.

[Luke looks at her, eyes pleading, yet demanding, see?]

[imperialwill]

[That expression on Luke's face gives her the briefest moment of pause, but she immediately steps forward, pointing directly in the other's face. She isn't afraid, she isn't going to falter. The person she wants is Asch. Asch the Bloody.]

I shall not repeat myself. I am here to see Asch and Asch alone.

[contaminations]

[Luke steps back, his expression both shattered and, somehow, wooden. All the rest remain still, watching unblinking, not even breathing yet very much aware.

Asch would be walking away, if he could get his legs moving. It's enough just to stand.]

I told you to get out, Natalia. [Meant to sound angry, even shouting, instead: tired] Why are you making me repeat myself?

[imperialwill]

How can I abandon you when you look like this?

[...Not...meant to be so blunt, of course, but she now moves forward, toward him. Perhaps she can help carry him out of here somehow. Wake him up?]

[contaminations]

[It's his nightmare. He isn't afraid to die; it's something he'd had to accept. But, Natalia--

Asch manages to straighten, though mostly supported by the wall, and facing her, points his bloodied blade in her direction. Something flashes in his eyes, a grimacing contortion in his face, from effort and fear and anger and how many other cursed, useless emotions.]

There's nothing to abandon. We owe each other nothing. Get out, or I'll make you.

[imperialwill]

Then you shall have to do just that. I simply cannot leave.

[contaminations]

[Called on his bluff, but he doesn't lower the weapon. Perhaps manipulated into it by the nightmare, perhaps seizing control, deciding it definitively for himself, perhaps as the only way to not give into her -- Asch twists his grip, and with it the blade itself, holding it against his throat.]

Fine. Just watch.

[imperialwill]

Asch, stop! What do you think you're doing?!

[Stripped of all composure, she leaps forward, wanting to get a hold of his wrist but not wanting to jerk himoff the wrong way, either. She's all panic and flustered. What should she do? What should she do?]

[contaminations]

[SUDDENLY THIS NIGHTMARE BECOMES A PORNO His grip on the hilt is so tight, his fingers are numb; his muscles don't respond, not as they ought, frozen by the fever pitch in her voice.

A stir of discontent in the once-dummies standing by. One moves, as if to intercept Natalia, deliberately knocking into Asch, jerking him off that wrong way, in such a way that the sword's edge cuts clumsy but deep.

It's pathetic. How appropriate. He'd laugh, if blood wasn't bubbling on his lips, flowing down his neck. He slides to the ground, curiously not yet dead, though each replica has suddenly become shapeless, undefined wood once more, clattering to the ground. The echoes are deafening.]

[imperialwill]

[Without another word or another scream, she kneels next to him, trying to frantically heal him the best he can with as many spells as she's learned.]