[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]Up! Up! And Hopefully Not Down...
Sept 9, 2022 18:38:43 GMT -5
Post by Carbine on Sept 9, 2022 18:38:43 GMT -5
"-I doubt anything you tell me will be any worse than what I’ve seen in movies, anyway-"
Ahh yes... the 'I have seen it in a movie so that must be what it is!' cliché. Movie death was one thing. REAL death was ugly. Really ugly. Individuals think they know what it is going to be like before turning that corner and coming face to face with a corpse for the first time. Even photos of true death wouldn't compare. It was something Carbine was sure Miko had never seen legitimately.
Probably for the best.
"White chalk line? I've n-̸n͡-neveŕ d͜on̨e͘ d͝etec-tive work or crime scene stuff like that, b-but I know they put down ̵s͜ome ́sor̵t̨ ͞of ͞di̡gital grid and take scans to h-h-elp get a scale on things."
Got to map out every detail possible before evidence is disturbed.
Then her following question slapped him.
The first time he had walked into a murder scene, or the first time he had to take down someone who had horrifically injured another or someone who had tried to kill themselves... The aftermath of crashes and the results of deranged mech and femme's violent tendencies... Growing jaded helped, but much of it still could throw Carbine back, rekindling those initial feelings of revulsion or disappointment in society and their collective kind. These thoughts somewhat welled back with Miko's question, where the open-ended statement didn’t focus on one specific element he could hunt for, but more flung the door wide open to force him to skim past every flash of a crime scene to compare and see what could be called 'worst'.
Yellow optics flicked against the horizon a couple times, trying to shift and jump from each incident that varied wildly from the next. There were so many over his course of service, and he didn't really know where to even look, and how one horror could be compared to another and have one be labeled 'worst' when they were appalling in different ways.
"Not necessarily a m-m-̶urder b̵u͞t I ͝s͢ąw the aftermath of a m-massive me̷c̨han̵ics f̨a̵il̀ur̕e in a fabrication plant."
A sort of stilted reply at first, his frame of mind settling on the word 'gore' rather than trying to filter through killers, methodology, or even the distressing nature of who or what had been targeted. He couldn't balance all of them to come up with a 'worst'. There was no way.
"I don't know ̴th͟e͝ spe͏cif͜ics of the m-machines, but I know one was maybe like a-a-a lathe? And it clipped so̡m͠e͢thing an͏d ripped itself apart. It threw s-stuff which got mangled into other things which then vomited its own parts... and non͘e ̨of t́he wor͡kers really had a chance."
There was a sort of strained grimace to Carbine's words, though he was relaxing some as he funneled his thoughts down to then and only then, trying to shove aside the others for now. His sudden internal walls let him downplay and act more 'normal' then, emotionally detaching from the incident as he forced out a snort of a laugh.
"I'm no medic, but I know damn outsi͟de͢s ins̶ides z͢c͞h͢h͡h͡ ̡f́rom, and I saw more the prior ̡t̵ha̸n ̧t̀he̕ f̡or̷mer, a lot snagged on s-s-urrounding stuff like the overhead light fixtures. The north fac-tory wall was covered in shrap̷n̢el l̛ike ̨som̷e sort of pin cushion."
He and others of his kind could only gawk in horror for what felt like forever before they dispersed and tried to cord off the immediate area and keep others from even walking past the factory turned slaughterhouse. Then they had to go to nearby buildings and deal with the aftermath of the pieces that were thrown into the surrounding structures. Thankfully those seemed to be just the larger fabricator bits, rather than gory bits. Jotting down reports to send out.
Carbine was just thankful he wasn’t a detective that would have to reverse engineer the incident to figure out if it was intentional, or a messy mistake. And if it was a mistake? Finding out if it was user error or if the machine was faulty and blame could be shifted to the owner of the facility... that is, if they weren’t within the wreckage...
Carbine was also extra grateful that he wasn’t part of some group that would have to deal with that mess.
He would have just burnt it to the ground.
"I don't t̡h-̴t͞hink ̧we ȩv͝er figured out a body count."
Ahh yes... the 'I have seen it in a movie so that must be what it is!' cliché. Movie death was one thing. REAL death was ugly. Really ugly. Individuals think they know what it is going to be like before turning that corner and coming face to face with a corpse for the first time. Even photos of true death wouldn't compare. It was something Carbine was sure Miko had never seen legitimately.
Probably for the best.
"White chalk line? I've n-̸n͡-neveŕ d͜on̨e͘ d͝etec-tive work or crime scene stuff like that, b-but I know they put down ̵s͜ome ́sor̵t̨ ͞of ͞di̡gital grid and take scans to h-h-elp get a scale on things."
Got to map out every detail possible before evidence is disturbed.
Then her following question slapped him.
All within this war likely had some sort of traumatic stress disorder, simply due to the nature of what they had all been forced to experience. Witnessing atrocities and death, the shot and ripped up body parts while individuals scream in pain wanting things to just end and free them. The combusting noises of bombs, sharp whistles of bullets speeding past or the crackling hiss of energy-based weapons striking nearby. The thing was, in war, when you step out into the battlefield... that was almost expected. All were forced to see what could be watered down into the 'same things', even if it was repackaged differently between them all. There was a certain spot however in Carbine's experiences when he was faced with horrific things when the slaughters of war weren't even a concern. Where someone could travel fifteen steps and be right back into the normal cluster of people going on their day to day lives.
A nauseating dichotomy that hurt.
The first time he had walked into a murder scene, or the first time he had to take down someone who had horrifically injured another or someone who had tried to kill themselves... The aftermath of crashes and the results of deranged mech and femme's violent tendencies... Growing jaded helped, but much of it still could throw Carbine back, rekindling those initial feelings of revulsion or disappointment in society and their collective kind. These thoughts somewhat welled back with Miko's question, where the open-ended statement didn’t focus on one specific element he could hunt for, but more flung the door wide open to force him to skim past every flash of a crime scene to compare and see what could be called 'worst'.
Yellow optics flicked against the horizon a couple times, trying to shift and jump from each incident that varied wildly from the next. There were so many over his course of service, and he didn't really know where to even look, and how one horror could be compared to another and have one be labeled 'worst' when they were appalling in different ways.
"Not necessarily a m-m-̶urder b̵u͞t I ͝s͢ąw the aftermath of a m-massive me̷c̨han̵ics f̨a̵il̀ur̕e in a fabrication plant."
A sort of stilted reply at first, his frame of mind settling on the word 'gore' rather than trying to filter through killers, methodology, or even the distressing nature of who or what had been targeted. He couldn't balance all of them to come up with a 'worst'. There was no way.
"I don't know ̴th͟e͝ spe͏cif͜ics of the m-machines, but I know one was maybe like a-a-a lathe? And it clipped so̡m͠e͢thing an͏d ripped itself apart. It threw s-stuff which got mangled into other things which then vomited its own parts... and non͘e ̨of t́he wor͡kers really had a chance."
There was a sort of strained grimace to Carbine's words, though he was relaxing some as he funneled his thoughts down to then and only then, trying to shove aside the others for now. His sudden internal walls let him downplay and act more 'normal' then, emotionally detaching from the incident as he forced out a snort of a laugh.
"I'm no medic, but I know damn outsi͟de͢s ins̶ides z͢c͞h͢h͡h͡ ̡f́rom, and I saw more the prior ̡t̵ha̸n ̧t̀he̕ f̡or̷mer, a lot snagged on s-s-urrounding stuff like the overhead light fixtures. The north fac-tory wall was covered in shrap̷n̢el l̛ike ̨som̷e sort of pin cushion."
He and others of his kind could only gawk in horror for what felt like forever before they dispersed and tried to cord off the immediate area and keep others from even walking past the factory turned slaughterhouse. Then they had to go to nearby buildings and deal with the aftermath of the pieces that were thrown into the surrounding structures. Thankfully those seemed to be just the larger fabricator bits, rather than gory bits. Jotting down reports to send out.
Carbine was just thankful he wasn’t a detective that would have to reverse engineer the incident to figure out if it was intentional, or a messy mistake. And if it was a mistake? Finding out if it was user error or if the machine was faulty and blame could be shifted to the owner of the facility... that is, if they weren’t within the wreckage...
Carbine was also extra grateful that he wasn’t part of some group that would have to deal with that mess.
He would have just burnt it to the ground.
"I don't t̡h-̴t͞hink ̧we ȩv͝er figured out a body count."