[Green eyes stare at the image for a long time, a cold expression on his face, mostly because he doesn't know what to think of all this. He's seen it many times: kids, comrades... people that simply couldn't handle the reality of their world.
But it still hits him, every fuckin' time... And like every other fuckin' time, he'll blame it on himself. In the end, guilt was never left an orphan when it encountered Fisher.]
Video feed off... [He mutters quietly. There's a sigh and some shifting noise.]
Sarah?
[Stubborn as the community can only be, the video feed comes back, and the veteran seems to be hugging a younger woman, probably in her 20s.]
Are you alright dad? [She says.}
[The video cuts off short, with a simple glare from the veteran. And again, he has to lie to her.]
[Audio - later on shifts to video]samuelleofisherSeptember 26 2011, 02:09:28 UTC
What in the...? [The velvety voice of the veteran comes in. Given the fact that his listening device is a cochlear implant, the sounds is amazingly clear..]
Dad?
I'm fine... Just... I'm gonna rest, for a while.
Alright...
[After a while and some clear shuffling of light feet, there's a sigh.] Audio feed... [There's a pause.] Belay that order. [More shifting sounds, apparently this time, the footsteps are clearer.]
Video feed on...
[And the video comes back, a bit too eagerly. He makes a face at that before his fingers go over the monitor quickly. Numbers appear on the top left corner. He seems to be tracking something.]
This makes no sense...
[To apparently no success at all.]
I might be receiving this signal from someone else. ['My radio? My neighbor?' He thought. The thing here was that this frequency was a private and extremely secure one. Rarely it had been hacked. The community pulling him to this place and cracking his frequency so that it could communicate with him any time it wished was one of those rare things in
( ... )
[More crackling and the music changes after a short time to some kind of pop/dance music. It's still faint and there's more static on the line throughout.]
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But it still hits him, every fuckin' time... And like every other fuckin' time, he'll blame it on himself. In the end, guilt was never left an orphan when it encountered Fisher.]
Video feed off... [He mutters quietly. There's a sigh and some shifting noise.]
Sarah?
[Stubborn as the community can only be, the video feed comes back, and the veteran seems to be hugging a younger woman, probably in her 20s.]
Are you alright dad? [She says.}
[The video cuts off short, with a simple glare from the veteran. And again, he has to lie to her.]
Yeah. I am...
Audio feed... off...
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Dad?
I'm fine... Just... I'm gonna rest, for a while.
Alright...
[After a while and some clear shuffling of light feet, there's a sigh.] Audio feed... [There's a pause.] Belay that order. [More shifting sounds, apparently this time, the footsteps are clearer.]
Video feed on...
[And the video comes back, a bit too eagerly. He makes a face at that before his fingers go over the monitor quickly. Numbers appear on the top left corner. He seems to be tracking something.]
This makes no sense...
[To apparently no success at all.]
I might be receiving this signal from someone else. ['My radio? My neighbor?' He thought. The thing here was that this frequency was a private and extremely secure one. Rarely it had been hacked. The community pulling him to this place and cracking his frequency so that it could communicate with him any time it wished was one of those rare things in ( ... )
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