Log Title: The Duke's New Clothes
Summary: Pattern recognition helps Winter and Royal identify some possible leads; Royal shows his true VR colors.
IC Date: Wed Mar 20 19:07, 2381
OOC Date: Wed Mar 20 19:07, 2019
Related Logs: None
royalwinter

 

 

"I think someone is trying to warn us about just what Ariana might be cooking up out there."

* OOC Time: Wed Mar 20 17:07:25 2019 *

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  • * *

* * *

Given Royal's reservations about VR, it's probably a bit strange that a message comes to Winter asking to meet in virtual. There are, by and large, two kinds of constructs - the ones that pretend to be real, and the ones that don't even try. This is one of the latter. It's a big, black empty space, and footsteps echo as if they're inside a giant, inky black warehouse.

Royal stands, ringed by screens that hover midair. His avatar is wearing a gray suit with a subtle check and black lapels, with a black button-up shirt underneath. It's understated from him, but more stylish than he's been dressing lately. He's considering something on the hovering screens.

* * *

Winter appears, when they join the VR session, as they do in the flesh, wearing a long, flowing, patchwork skirt and a soft, dove-grey top with a bit of stretch to the cloth. They consider the dark, shapeless space as they walk over to the GPPI. "I think I'm starting to see why VR makes you uneasy," they muse wryly.

* * *

"I like this much better than the VR that pretends to be real," says Royal. As Winter gets closer, it's clear to see there's a bit of…manic energy coming off him. He's smiling. He steps back and examines the board, which is the digital version of one of those pinboards in movies drawing connections between suspects. In this case, it's a much more high tech and fully interactive version of it. All the known details about the Longbow case are there, hovering midair. "Don't you see it?"

* * *

There's a faint frown for 'pretends to be real', but perhaps Winter takes note of all that eager energy, or perhaps they just opt not to share their thoughts at the moment. They look from Royal to the array of screens. They spend a long few minutes, peering at each screen and then the broader 'murder mystery pinboard', considering each item and the digital strings that connect them. But, after said examination, they only shake their head. "Tell me what you see."

* * *

Despite the fact that his mind isn't connected to his body right now, Royal is giving off the kind of energy one gets when they've been up too long on some kind of binge. His hair and suit is perfect in VR, but a meatspace equivalent wouldn't be quite so neat.

He lifts a hand and a red pen appears in his hand. He draws a line between icons that represent different parts of the case - the two clones and the various evidence surrounding them. Then he looks at his pen, shakes it, and it turns blue. He draws another line between the distribution of the TBT, through to the shattered stacks and the DJ, and finally, to Carnage. He's heard the rumours but that is just a picture of the MC at the moment.

"Don't you see it, doctor? This isn't one set of motives at play, it's two."

* * *

"I… had wondered about that," Winter muses softly, looking between the images linked by red lines and the images linked by blue. "Why leak a TBT and then threaten the people who experience it? Maybe as a way to drum up gossip but…" their brows furrow and their fingertips rest lightly against their lips. "Walk me through this. Step by step."

* * *

"Right, well, we have the inciting incident, the Fightdrome night." Royal tap-tap-taps a picture of the Panama Rose's facade that serves as a visual representation of the incident. "That ties back to something off-world. Perhaps the rebellion on Three Moon, perhaps something else. I haven't sorted that bit yet." He makes a few scribbles with his now-orange pen to indicate…confusion?

"The same people who are behind that incident are, most certainly, also the ones involved with the creation and dissemination of the Total Body Theatre recording, colloquially known as the Longbow Striptease. Now…"

He steps back and takes in the whole board, ending up beside Winter. "Who do you think would have a vested interest in trying to stop people they don't have control over from investigating? And who would want to make a statement about spreading a nudie recording of Ariana just before she slags her own stack?"

* * *

There's a quirk of a smile as the orange scribbles are… scribbled… but otherwise, Winter listens with interest and quiet focus. For the question, they consider, head canting. "The Longbow family, or at least, Ariana Longbow herself."

* * *

"Or an allied Meth family with more pull than the Longbows here on Earth, yes," says Royal. "They position themselves as gods, and it's good for none of them if they show they've got soft underbellies. We're all down here on the ground, in perfect belly-biting position, after all." He looks pleased with himself. "That's why none of it was making sense. We were reading both sides of the chess board as the same side."

* * *

"We really need to compare the substance from Fatale's stack with the substance on the shattered stacks," Winter says, arms crossing lightly. "If they're different, that supports the theory that there's two forces in opposition. If they match… well, that opens up a whole new field of questions."

* * *

"If they match…" Royal waggles the pen. It changes colours as he does. He hasn't really gotten the hang of controlling his VR environment yet. He lowers it sheepishly. "If they match…" he repeats, "All that might tell us is that the origin of these two warring parties is the same place. I'm sure you've heard rumours of facilities out in the Protectorate on some forgotten moon where the worst kinds of weapons are developed?"

Then he takes in a sharp breath. "How much do you know about Ariana Longbow?"

* * *

"I know the family is known for its number of colonial governors. Ariana Longbow oversaw Three Moon and brutally quashed the uprising there. She's been away from Earth for over thirty years, has a reputation for being something of a daredevil and adventurer and believes the Martians are some sort of possible looming threat to humanity," Winter replies. "Other than that, not very much. Who knows much about any meth when it comes down to it?"

* * *

"But doesn't someone who fears that the Martians might come back so much that she massacres her own people also sound like the sort who would be bioengineering weapons based on Martian tech?" Royal tap-taps the screen and a full picture of Ariana appears on the screen, along with other assorted biographical details. "Until about a decade and a half ago, Ariana was known as one of the 'good'" he air-quotes, "…meths. She was relatively even-handed. Tended to actually listen to her people. Wasn't even overly extravagant in her life. In fact, the daredevil thing came about because she felt she was losing touch with her humanity. But then something happened. Something that seems to coincide to a visit to a new possible mining site on an asteroid on the outer edge of the Three Moon system."

* * *

"It certainly sounds possible," Winter allows, leaning in a little to read the various bits of text on Ariana Longbow. "So, you're suggesting fifteen years ago, she found something or saw something at this mining site? Something that changed her or convinced her the Martians were coming back?"

* * *

"Something so intense, and potentially disturbing that she became willing to cross lines she never would have before." Royal rests one hand in the pocket of his suit. The marker goes behind his ear. It's still cycling between a dozen colours. He's got such poor control of changing the construct that the simulation somehow reads that gesture as a desire to change his hair. If Winter has ever wondered what he'd look like as a blond, well, wonder no longer. His colouring has shifted subtly to accomodate the change. His eyes have even gone blue.

"I think someone is trying to warn us about just what Ariana might be cooking up out there. Something she may have made to protect humanity, but might have the potential to kill millions."

* * *

"Good lord," Winter murmurs, as Royal goes blond and blue-eyed, though maybe it just sounds like they're struck by his revelation. "So you think that Fatale and the TBT were meant as warnings? And the shattered stacks and the attack on Carnage were meant as deterrents from a different faction, likely one of the meth families?"

* * *

"I think it's entirely within the realm of possibility, yes," says Royal. The colour change leeches down to his suit, and the gray turns peacock blue. Once his shoes turn canary yellow, the colour changing seems to calm down. "Most of the Meths are afraid the Martians will come back. That's really the only thing that holds the Protectorate togather. But even meths tend to have lines they won't cross."

* * *

Winter lifts their fingers to their mouth again, though this time it's mostly to hide a faint smile. But they nod slowly, looking back to the myriad of screens. "It's a good theory. But it's all still supposition until we find concrete proof. We need… really, we need someone on one side of this or the other to question. That, or we need to take a trip out to this Three Moon mining site." That last doesn't sound wholly serious… but it doesn't sound wholly joking, either.

* * *

"Trying to get clearance to go to Three Moon, to somewhere not on any person's vacation itinerary, would be both suspicious and dangerous. But…" Royal purses his lips. Does he have…freckles? He seems to. At closer inspection, his hair is a bit…strawberry blonde. "…some of those mining jobs can pay quite well. Well enough for a needlecast back to Earth and a new sleeve. Might be we can find ourselves a retired miner. Finding one who wants to talk might be a titch more difficult."

* * *

"If you find the miner, I can make them talk," Winter assures, brows lifting. "Some secrets weigh too heavily to keep."

* * *

"Make them talk? Oh, Doctor. That sounds a bit kinky," says Royal. He really…doesn't pull off strawberry blonde that well. It makes him look too innocent.

* * *

"Only to your ears, Royal," Winter replies, lips still quirking. "Do you think you can? Find a miner from this asteroid site, I mean, that would have been there when Ariana Longbow visited?"

* * *

Royal sighs and rubs the side of his head. "Mhmmm. It's a tall order, certainly. But private investigators are supposed to be good at tracking people down, yes? It doesn't hurt to try."

* * *

"That is what it says on the can," Winter agrees, "and I have a feeling if anyone can find and follow the threads stretching out from an incident that happened fifteen years ago, it would be you."

* * *

"Why thank you…I think," says Royal. He looks back at the board and digs both hands into the pocket of his pants. "The other option is of course, trying to make contact with the people sending the message. They obviously want us to dig about and ask questions. There's got to be a reason for all the pageantry."

* * *

Winter gives a small nod. "The DHF of Nineteen Alpha Thirty wasn't very forthcoming," they say, "though she presumably wasn't much in her right mind. She said… 'I'll give you a riddle. How does a mortal steal the form of a god' as well as 'the false gods will pay'. I've been keeping an eye out for chatter or anything referencing 'false gods' or stealing the form of one, but…" they shake their head. "If they want to lead us on a trail, I'm afraid I've done a very poor job finding and following the breadcrumbs."

* * *

"Well perhaps we've got to be the ones dusting the crumbs. Get their attention, either by using their words or copycatting." A dangeorus gambit, but one that could potentially pay off. Royal still looks quite energized, but mental exhaustion is still a thing, even if VR divorces from the physical. "They've got to keep their heads down lest they get their throats cut by meths. They're not likely to trust many people with information that could get buried or destroyed."

* * *

"Hmm," Winter muses, foot tapping slowly. "I don't have a ready answer for how to do that, but I'll think on it. And you, my friend, need to get some rest before you drop."

* * *

"Yes, working in Virtual is deceptive," says Royal as he looks at the board. "But it was getting far too cluttered trying to lay this all out in my consoles. I felt I needed more space. And then I remembered that in here, I have all the space I could ever need." He gestures around the space, then looks down at his arm. "…how long has my suit been blue?"

* * *

"A few minutes. It's not the only thing that's changed color. I'll show you, if you don't think you'll panic," Winter offers gently.

* * *

"Doctor, I feel like I've got something on my face, and you're not telling me what it is." Royal's eyebrows go up. Very pale eyebrows. "It will certainly give me more anxiety not knowing."

* * *

"Just remember. In here, it's all about perception and imagination. Your sleeve is exactly as you left it. You're still you." Winter holds a hand out and within the blackness, a little to the side of the myriad of screens, a mirror appears.

* * *

Royal looks more than a little edgy at Winter's lead-up. Then when the mirror appears, he steps up to it and stares at the colour-shifted reflection that stares back at him. "Good lord." And then, after a beat, he adds, "…and I'm not having any more fun at all. It's all lies!" Hard to tell with him if the joke is to cover up for some deeper anxiety.

Probably.

* * *

Winter takes a few steps until they appear next to Royal, their more familiar reflection standing beside his altered one. "I thought you seemed a bit giddy, myself," they opine, "but that may have been the punch-drunkness of sleep deprivation."

* * *

Royal tilts his head back and forth, then reaches up to touch the side of his hair. Like in the real, it's curly wrangled into straight. "This is…utterly bizarre. How did it happen?" He leans in to look more closely at his changed eye colour. "I suppose this is a good argument for not being in a construct too long without resting. A punch-drunk mind starts sending out strange signals." Maybe it's because he's so spent, but he doesn't look like he's freaking out.

* * *

"It started with your pen. It kept shifting colors. When you put it behind your ear, the other changes sort've… bled out from there." Winter cants their head, lifting a hand and giving a small, idle tug to a lock of their own hair. "What I find most interesting is that you didn't just change your hair color. The rest of you immediately shifted to match. Even your subconscious is color coordinated."

* * *

"Yes well, I do abhor clashing," says Royal. He looks at the back of his hand, where a few freckles have appeared. He's got more peachy undertones than the olive he's got in the real world. "Does that mean you think I might be a natural at controlling the virtual environment?" There's a lilt up at the end of those words.

* * *

"I think you have an innate understanding and recognition of patterns," Winter answers thoughtfully. "And virtual is really all about patterns. The patterns of code, the algorithms that dictate how the world breathes, how we breathe, how our hearts beat, how the capillaries in our face dilate when we blush. You… tap into that. I think you might be a fish who's just started learning how to swim."

* * *

"That's…slightly terrifying," says Royal. He straightens and turns to the side, trying to decide if he likes the aesthetic. The fact that he's not freaking out at not looking exactly like himself is progress, at least. "I can't say exactly why, but it is. Before recently, the only times I came into virtual were to shop, and to speak to my family. And in neither of those cases did I ever try to alter my environment."

* * *

"I think it's lovely," Winter replies with a faint smile. "In both of those cases, you had no reason to. A shop is a shop. Your family is your family. Your expectations were fixed and finite. But, introduce possibility, change, the unknown, I think something in you responds."

* * *

"Like your fish. Changing my colours to suit my environment?" If Royal wasn't quite so mentally spent, he'd be overthinking this. But all of his overthinking is up there on the floating boards. "It's just a little disconcerting that I didn't do it on purpose." Because as much as he might seem to present a bit of a playboy persona, in truth, he does like to be in control.

* * *

"Mmm," Winter agrees with a small nod. "More than just your colors in time, perhaps. For you, I think intent will come with practice. And you were distracted. Excited. Your mind working faster than you could process. I think it was that delay in processing speed that caused…" they lift their arm, gesturing vaguely towards Royal's new hues.

* * *

"I think that might be a touch ambitious," says Royal with a bit of an awkward smile. "And I haven't got a handle on…the simple commands, like asking for my pens to be a different colour. So perhaps when I touched…" he reaches up behind his ear, "…the system got confused?" Which doesn't explain the palette match.

* * *

"If you'd prefer that version of events, then sure," Winter allows with a small nod. "The system got confused. It's nothing to do with you, just a very over eager pen. Or, very over eager code in the shape of a pen. I…" Winter blinks slowly. "Oh. Hmm…"

* * *

"Helping me in my delusions?" Royal chuckles dryly. "You're really not my shrink, are you?" He examines the fabric of the blue suit, and how it lays. Then he looks back over. "Hmmm, what is it?"

* * *

"I know the colloquial saying is 'rip the bandaid off', but some things are better eased into than plunged into," Winter says, rocking slowly back onto their heels and then forward onto their toes. "I was just thinking about those breadcrumbs. What if we loosed something onto the Podnet ourselves. An… easter egg of sorts. A piece of over eager code with a message for our stack-slagging friends?"

* * *

"With something that could only have been gained from talking to your friend in virtual, perhaps. Yes, that's in the neighbourhood of what I was thinking." Royal looks back at his board, purses his lips, then, "I'm sorry, I think I'm quite spent. And in any case, I would leave the Podnet explorations to those of you with technical skills to do it at least somewhat safely. That is an area of our world I've tried to avoid." He straightens his lapels. "Besides, there's probably nude photos of me up there."

* * *

"Among other places," Winter agrees. "I'll speak to a couple of others who might be able to help, and we'll see what we can devise. You work on finding a miner. And perhaps find out from the police if those two samples match." For Royal's exhaustion, they nod. "Go rest. I'm not sure how long you were at this," they tip their chin towards the screens and their colored lines, "but I'm guessing more than a few hours."

* * *

Royal's head tilts as he accesses his statistics. "Oh, yes, rather more than a few. Coming up on fifteen, as a matter of fact." He looks sheepish. "I suppose I should let my poor mind rest, hmm? But that sounds like a plan."

* * *

"I think you most certainly should," Winter agrees with a soft, impressed huff of a laugh. "Do you mind if I make a copy of all of this?" They gesture again towards the array of floating screens.

* * *

"By all means," says Royal. None of what's up there on the screen is privileged or sensitive. In fact, most of what he has gathered is what is out there in rumours and the word on the street. "But for now, I bid you adieu, and return to my sleeve where I'm still definitively a brunette."

* * *

"You look better as a brunette," Winter opines, "though I'm just getting used to 'Dante Taylor: Surfer Edition'." They laugh gently. "Good night, Royal. Sweet dreams."