The Long Run [Sloth, Lust, Pride]
After Grif had completed his run through Envy, a rather slower relay-race-like effort became necessary to blaze a trail through Sloth. The group of them got it done, however, and moved on to the next level. The town they arrived in was a bit dingy, on the whole, and as he looked around, Grif tilted his head, puzzled.
"Huh. There're a couple of sins left, and I can feel that brain-twitch of something that's supposed to happen, but..." He trailed off as his glance trailed over the rest of the party, and the effects the place actually was having on them. "Aha. Lust. Of course. And here's me with that wiring missing. My thanks to the UNSC, I guess." After another moment, while the rest of the group started wandering around, he mused, "Given the Nexus, I'm surprised more people don't seem to be stuck here."
He indulged the group a while, letting them see the sights. That was probably one of his worst ideas of the last week, and resulted in a great deal of trauma for all concerned. Finally, some judicious use of the tranq-round-loaded pistol ensued, followed by a mass PINpointing back to the forest base camp, which had, by now, become rather fortified. They could sleep off the tranqs, while he scouted on ahead, much like he'd done in Envy. Instead of an open broadcast, however, Caleb will find himself the recipient of a lengthy recording sent directly to his PINpoint.
«Yeah, okay, this place is fuc--- uh, totally disgusting. Trust me, I did you guys a favor by not letting you stick around here longer than you did.»
«Seem to have made it out the other side. From the looks of this... castle or tower or something, all done up in purple stone, I'm guessing I've reached the last area. Pride, then, since all the others have been taken. Front door's been vandalized, a bit. Dunno by who, but I doubt it's in the original plans for the place. Nothing lurking at the door, surprisingly, but... Oh. Ha. Scans show a trap door just past the actual door. That's cute. Any other... Ah. A gate. Awesome.»
«Ah. Less awesome: Gate leads to the sewers. According to my location, the hole in the ceiling's probably where that trap door dumps out into. Either way, if you choose not to just PINpoint past all this? Do yourselves a favor and change into a hazmat suit, 'cause this shit's just nasty. I mean, you should probably hazmat up anyway? But especially for this.
«Well. That was fucked up. Something that at least looked like Headmaster Snape was holding what looked like a remedial Potions class. A test, actually, I think. Anyway, while I'm a reasonably good cook, magic's not really my bag, and he didn't seem to care if I stuck around to try it anyway, so I just kept right on walking. I'm marking the location, in case you care to give it a go.»
«Okay, I'm starting to get a little creeped out by the lack of things trying to kill me for being here. I mean, there's rooms with all sorts of shiny shit, and a throne room, and stuff, but as usual, if you're smart enough not to touch anything, it's not a problem. This place is fucking huge, though. I'm starting to think it'd take forever to search the whole thing, so fuck it. There're some people I don't recognize, here and there. Servants, I guess? Whatever, they haven't really paid any attention to me, but I'm gonna flag one down and ask for some directions.»
In truth, it hadn't been so much that they weren't paying attention, as that Grif had been using his active camouflage to stay out of sight. Now, though, after a moment to duck in where no one else was looking in order to drop the cloak, he steps out in front of one of the random people wandering around. Switching on his speakers to talk, he also leaves the PINpoint transmission to Caleb open so he can hear the conversation.
"Hi! I was wondering if you can help me out. I'm lookin' for a guy named Killgrave. He's all purple, can't miss 'im. You haven't seen him around, have you?"
The other man's blank-eyed face lights up with a rapturous grin. "Oh! Of course! I'm so glad you asked! Down that way to the tallest tower, all the way to the top. I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding it... or dealing with him, for that matter."
Grif's brow furrows, puzzled by the compliment coming from someone in Purple-land. "Uh. Thanks."
He turns to go, but is met instead by another blank-eyed person, this time a young woman, standing in his way and approaching closer. "Oh, but he's right. I mean, look at you, all big and strong and well-armed. He won't even be a threat against you!"
"Yeah, that's great. Anyway, I'll just, y'know, get to that."
More of the people filter into the room, one grabbing hold of his arm. "No! Please, you must listen! We've been here so long, waiting for someone like you!"
Another. "Someone who can stand strong, be the hero that we need!"
And another, and another, and another, pressing in on all sides, calling out their worship. They're not hurting him, not even trying, but it soon becomes apparent that they won't be dissuaded, and as long as this keeps going on, he's not going to make much progress.
"You know," he muses aloud, more for himself (and the PINpoint transmission) than anything else, "I'm starting to think this is the trap of the level. Well, the trap for people who won't touch stuff, anyway." He looks out across the masses assembled thus far. "I'm also starting to think that, given our fairly deliberate, pre-planned pace through the levels, I can't possibly be the first guy to have made it here... And yet, here you all are, cheering me on like I'm the only one here. Either way, the odds are good that you're not, y'know, really real, if you take my meaning."
For some people, all of that might seem okay. After all, they're all being very nice, not hurting him at all, quite complimentary. They're calling him a hero, even, and that's usually pretty cool. Grif, on the other hand, had never really wanted to be a hero, or even a soldier at all. Once he'd been made a soldier, he'd spent years on end enduring daily insults and indignities at the hands of a shotgun-wielding commanding officer. He'd held onto himself enough for that not to break him, but even once Sarge was gone, Grif was never particularly concerned with acquiring terribly much of an ego. Instead, he usually presented himself as Just A Guy who Does Some Stuff, but for all of the Stuff he's Done that he could be at all proud of, he was all too aware of the things he'd also had to do to accomplish that Stuff. Praise has never sat well with him, never provided a comforting gilded edge to the dirty work that earned it.
Now, here, it seems as though he's going to drown in praise, and somewhere in the back of his mind, something clicks into place. As though in reaction, the clamp on his right arm delivers the crowbar into his hand.
«Yeah, Caleb? I'm gonna have to call you back.»
Some time later, Grif finally achieves some distance from the throngs of flatterers, and reaches the tower that they'd told him of, stopping to catch his breath and get a hold on himself. As much as he'd probably yell at most people for going off on their own, the way he's doing now, he's glad for it in this case. He'd done what he had to, but it's still a side of himself that he is, in fact, not proud of, and he's not sure if he'd have been able to do it with someone else watching. Sighing one last time, he shakes the crowbar to hopefully clean off whatever else may still be on it, sticks it back in the clamp, and re-opens his transmission to Caleb.
«Okay. I'm back. Made it to the tallest tower, where Killgrave's supposed to be. Coordinates for this point sent. I'll let you know if I hit anything else worth mentioning on my way up.»
«Looks like this is it. Top of the tower. Next stop: Killgrave. New coordinates sent. If you guys are awake and recovered from your traumas, then get your hazmat gear on and come on by.»
"Huh. There're a couple of sins left, and I can feel that brain-twitch of something that's supposed to happen, but..." He trailed off as his glance trailed over the rest of the party, and the effects the place actually was having on them. "Aha. Lust. Of course. And here's me with that wiring missing. My thanks to the UNSC, I guess." After another moment, while the rest of the group started wandering around, he mused, "Given the Nexus, I'm surprised more people don't seem to be stuck here."
He indulged the group a while, letting them see the sights. That was probably one of his worst ideas of the last week, and resulted in a great deal of trauma for all concerned. Finally, some judicious use of the tranq-round-loaded pistol ensued, followed by a mass PINpointing back to the forest base camp, which had, by now, become rather fortified. They could sleep off the tranqs, while he scouted on ahead, much like he'd done in Envy. Instead of an open broadcast, however, Caleb will find himself the recipient of a lengthy recording sent directly to his PINpoint.
«Yeah, okay, this place is fuc--- uh, totally disgusting. Trust me, I did you guys a favor by not letting you stick around here longer than you did.»
«Seem to have made it out the other side. From the looks of this... castle or tower or something, all done up in purple stone, I'm guessing I've reached the last area. Pride, then, since all the others have been taken. Front door's been vandalized, a bit. Dunno by who, but I doubt it's in the original plans for the place. Nothing lurking at the door, surprisingly, but... Oh. Ha. Scans show a trap door just past the actual door. That's cute. Any other... Ah. A gate. Awesome.»
«Ah. Less awesome: Gate leads to the sewers. According to my location, the hole in the ceiling's probably where that trap door dumps out into. Either way, if you choose not to just PINpoint past all this? Do yourselves a favor and change into a hazmat suit, 'cause this shit's just nasty. I mean, you should probably hazmat up anyway? But especially for this.
«Well. That was fucked up. Something that at least looked like Headmaster Snape was holding what looked like a remedial Potions class. A test, actually, I think. Anyway, while I'm a reasonably good cook, magic's not really my bag, and he didn't seem to care if I stuck around to try it anyway, so I just kept right on walking. I'm marking the location, in case you care to give it a go.»
«Okay, I'm starting to get a little creeped out by the lack of things trying to kill me for being here. I mean, there's rooms with all sorts of shiny shit, and a throne room, and stuff, but as usual, if you're smart enough not to touch anything, it's not a problem. This place is fucking huge, though. I'm starting to think it'd take forever to search the whole thing, so fuck it. There're some people I don't recognize, here and there. Servants, I guess? Whatever, they haven't really paid any attention to me, but I'm gonna flag one down and ask for some directions.»
In truth, it hadn't been so much that they weren't paying attention, as that Grif had been using his active camouflage to stay out of sight. Now, though, after a moment to duck in where no one else was looking in order to drop the cloak, he steps out in front of one of the random people wandering around. Switching on his speakers to talk, he also leaves the PINpoint transmission to Caleb open so he can hear the conversation.
"Hi! I was wondering if you can help me out. I'm lookin' for a guy named Killgrave. He's all purple, can't miss 'im. You haven't seen him around, have you?"
The other man's blank-eyed face lights up with a rapturous grin. "Oh! Of course! I'm so glad you asked! Down that way to the tallest tower, all the way to the top. I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding it... or dealing with him, for that matter."
Grif's brow furrows, puzzled by the compliment coming from someone in Purple-land. "Uh. Thanks."
He turns to go, but is met instead by another blank-eyed person, this time a young woman, standing in his way and approaching closer. "Oh, but he's right. I mean, look at you, all big and strong and well-armed. He won't even be a threat against you!"
"Yeah, that's great. Anyway, I'll just, y'know, get to that."
More of the people filter into the room, one grabbing hold of his arm. "No! Please, you must listen! We've been here so long, waiting for someone like you!"
Another. "Someone who can stand strong, be the hero that we need!"
And another, and another, and another, pressing in on all sides, calling out their worship. They're not hurting him, not even trying, but it soon becomes apparent that they won't be dissuaded, and as long as this keeps going on, he's not going to make much progress.
"You know," he muses aloud, more for himself (and the PINpoint transmission) than anything else, "I'm starting to think this is the trap of the level. Well, the trap for people who won't touch stuff, anyway." He looks out across the masses assembled thus far. "I'm also starting to think that, given our fairly deliberate, pre-planned pace through the levels, I can't possibly be the first guy to have made it here... And yet, here you all are, cheering me on like I'm the only one here. Either way, the odds are good that you're not, y'know, really real, if you take my meaning."
For some people, all of that might seem okay. After all, they're all being very nice, not hurting him at all, quite complimentary. They're calling him a hero, even, and that's usually pretty cool. Grif, on the other hand, had never really wanted to be a hero, or even a soldier at all. Once he'd been made a soldier, he'd spent years on end enduring daily insults and indignities at the hands of a shotgun-wielding commanding officer. He'd held onto himself enough for that not to break him, but even once Sarge was gone, Grif was never particularly concerned with acquiring terribly much of an ego. Instead, he usually presented himself as Just A Guy who Does Some Stuff, but for all of the Stuff he's Done that he could be at all proud of, he was all too aware of the things he'd also had to do to accomplish that Stuff. Praise has never sat well with him, never provided a comforting gilded edge to the dirty work that earned it.
Now, here, it seems as though he's going to drown in praise, and somewhere in the back of his mind, something clicks into place. As though in reaction, the clamp on his right arm delivers the crowbar into his hand.
«Yeah, Caleb? I'm gonna have to call you back.»
Some time later, Grif finally achieves some distance from the throngs of flatterers, and reaches the tower that they'd told him of, stopping to catch his breath and get a hold on himself. As much as he'd probably yell at most people for going off on their own, the way he's doing now, he's glad for it in this case. He'd done what he had to, but it's still a side of himself that he is, in fact, not proud of, and he's not sure if he'd have been able to do it with someone else watching. Sighing one last time, he shakes the crowbar to hopefully clean off whatever else may still be on it, sticks it back in the clamp, and re-opens his transmission to Caleb.
«Okay. I'm back. Made it to the tallest tower, where Killgrave's supposed to be. Coordinates for this point sent. I'll let you know if I hit anything else worth mentioning on my way up.»
«Looks like this is it. Top of the tower. Next stop: Killgrave. New coordinates sent. If you guys are awake and recovered from your traumas, then get your hazmat gear on and come on by.»