Log:We Are What We're Not
At the moment, the Defender is occupying one of the single seat arm chairs. He isn't exactly relaxing, sitting a bit upright and his unfocused gaze shows that he is lost in his own thoughts. In his hands is a cup of coffee, now only lukewarm as it has been forgotten. Like yesterday, or was it earlier, the Defender is dressed in the usual buttoned up shirt and slacks, his outfit more fitting as a bodyguard for a suit than the Marshal role he inhabited more recently.
Those who recall the Capitalist from the last time they were in the Facility, he was often wore business attire, whether it was with the full jacket look or not, but there was always a tie somewhere. That is, until the latter days before the countdown clock hit 00:00, where he began to dress in his expensive casual clothing. This time around, the Capitalist is dressed more simply, wearing a plain black T-shirt, but since it's from the Capitalist's closet, it's probably worth a pretty penny, and a pair of jeans. This is more Driscoll's attire than it ever was Conrad's. The real Driscoll, beneath the professional business attire, which would have been more Conrad Wellson.
Either way, since his second awakening, he had rarely been out of his room, having suffered some sort of identity crisis which he was rebelling against. Now, he's finally made his way out alongside The Hunter who had told him of something interesting and new that she had found. On seeing the Defender in the parlor, the first memory that comes to mind is the most recent, "Kinneson... I won't say that I'm glad to see that you're here." Idly, he looks about the all-too familiar room now, "I wouldn't wish this on anyone, but... it's good to see you." He guesses. He remembers the man as having saved his, Driscoll's life.
Soon after the other pair wander into the parlour, so comes The Penitent. Kylie Shorley. Madison Wellson. She's dressed in her super casual, comfortable clothing. Slacks and a tank top. 'Today' it's black slacks and a white top. No shoes, as usual. She creeps down the hallway and into the room, looking over the people there. In her arms? Is the cat! Weather Pants was in her room, or she just scooped him up in the hallway, he seems content for now to be there.
"Hello," she announces in that calm, almost serene voice that's really neither of the people she's been before, moving past the other two, glancing at Conrad and Thorne, pondering briefly on the strangeness of how she associates the familiarity of who they are with people from different places. She sets herself down in the corner of the couch she'd 'claimed' last time, legs tucking beneath her. She peers at The Defender though. "I am not sure we met much on the Noc. But I rememeber you ..." from the Island!
One of the doors in the seemingly endless hallway had remained firmly closed ever since the first group had arrived. The proof that it was actually occupied at all comes as it finally opens and its occupant steps outside. The Competitor moves at a somewhat uneasy pace as she makes her way out to the parlor. The tablet in her hand makes her even more reminiscent of the late Jenette Sterling but there are obvious differences under scrutiny. She's clad in dark blue colors, wearing loose-fitting pajama bottoms and a tank-top. So unlike the prim and professional Sterling, a few years younger too at a glance.
The former doctor isn't immediately focused on the group gathered in the parlor, not quite able to keep herself from glancing down at the tablet. Her eyes widen slightly and she stops just past the archway as she takes in the room and the faces, some familiar, standing in it. "If this is a nightmare, it's a very persistent one..."
While it's likely normal for some to see the two together, they aren't quite as comfortable as they were the last time they were here. Casual, yes, but not quite as comfortable. Two people figuring things out once again. The Hunter is in black athletic shorts and a tank top. She's still reminding herself that she has a leg. A real one. Not a cybernetic one. "Wolfram," she offers in greeting to the man in an even-keeled tone. There's a fluidity to her limbs; something relaxed. She's been drinking! Not to the point of being drunk, but at least limber. When the Penitent speaks up, she turns to watch the woman. There's a look to the cat. "Ah. There he is." Because of course the critter runs off every 'morning' when she opens her door.
It takes her a moment, when Sterling appears, to recognize the woman. And then the Hunter does? Her eyes narrow marginally. Because where the 'good' doctor was, it seemed January often followed. Something wary is in the woman that was Thorne's mien, but she doesn't say anything. Not for the moment.
Hearing someone else's voice immediately pulls the Defender's attention back to the present and he quickly turns his gaze to the Capitalist who is entering the parlour with the Hunter. "Unfortunately the same couldn't be said for our first venture together, especially when it was my job. Apologies for that." Though he had no way of detecting bombs, both in the communications shed or the medivac helicopter, he can't help but feel a bit of guilt on that.
When the Penitent joins them, the Defender inclines his head to the other familiar face, "Ms. Wellson. And you are right, our paths did not cross much on the station." The feline in her arms does get a momentarily look as well, a slight arching of brow as he wasn't expecting pets to be here. As for the Hunter, she is also offered a nod in greeting, "Thorne."
Following the Hunter's gaze, the Defender catches sight of the Competitor also appearing from the hallway of rooms, surprised that the other woman is focused on her tablet, "It's hard to tell what /this/ is, for most of us, if not all. One could call it a nightmare, one that is far too vivid. I see you are unlucky enough to be here with us as well, Dr. Sterling."
The Capitalist and the Hunter are certainly not the Conrad and Maata that people may have remembered in the Facility before. In fact, a lot of the Capitalist's movements are done more in the way of one trained to be attentive in combat situation and the like rather than someone born with a silver-spoon in their mouth. With Madison's arrival, despite the Capitalist focusing on Driscoll's memories, the Penitent will always be his older sister, as strange as that is. Though, after the events of his wakening just the other day... he obviously had forgotten that in the heat of the moment.
"I don't recall too much from that part of my life on the Island," Conrad was in a coma by then, "But you helped to save my life on that doomed space station. That's enough for me." These words are spoken to The Defender, though his gaze now fall on the Penitent and that... is that Thorne's damned cat? Lovely.
The Competitor's appearance is a mystery to him, having not met the woman in any formal sense on the Noc and not having any memories of her at all from the Island. But the Hunter and Defender clue him in to who exactly this woman is. "One of Weyland-Yutani's?" He asks, turning to look at the others first, before his attention falls on the long hallway in the distance, wondering who else may be hiding out in any of these rooms now.
Petting the cat, curling up comfortably on her spot on the couch, the Penitent is happy to get that deep purring coming from the feline. She beams a smile as though the cat is purring just for her! "You don't need to call me that," she says softly to The Defender. "Though I guess I'll answer to either Madison or Kylie at the moment, I don't think a 'Ms. Wellson' is at all necessary in here." Her eyes drift over the Hunter, staring at that woman before her attention is absorbed by the newcomer.
"Oh. Hello. Welcome. It's not much of a welcome I'm afraid, but it is better to not be alone. I don't know about nightmares." Then, the Penitent did always say she felt as though she belonged here.
The Competitor takes her attention away from the tablet for the moment to look the room over again. Her lips thin as her gaze settles on the Hunter but she doesn't exactly mirror the other woman's wariness. She seems to be stuck somewhere between shock and confusion given the strange circumstances of their reunion. Wolfram, or someone with a striking resemblance to him, gets her attention when he addresses her directly. "Marshal Kinneson, right?" Right? "I meant to tell you--," She visibly hesitates and shakes her head. "I guess it doesn't matter if you're here anyway. Wherever here is." The dark clad woman still seems to be trying to figure that out as she follows the Capitalist's gaze back to the hallway of doors.
"Weyland-Yutani...," She murmurs the word like it's vaguely unfamiliar to her. Her eyes lift back up from the floor as the Penitent/Shorley's greeting pulls her back to the conversation. "Oh, hi... K-Kylie. I suppose you're right, it'd be worse if I was alone. I had been hoping to wake up and find myself somewhere else... but I get the feeling that's not gonna happen."
The Hunter in the Facility was very different from Maata. She was often angry. She was brutal. Oh sure, she was resourceful. Crafty. Intelligent. Those were all very typical of the woman on the island. But the rest? Not at all like that woman who worked security. But they did turn out to be very much like the ex-marine security contractor. So while the cadence of speech and mannerisms aren't quite the same... it's very easy, perhaps, for those who knew Michel Thorne to see her in this woman.
They aren't exactly the same, but they are... similar.
She takes a breath and turns, placing a hand to the Capitalist's arm to get his attention. Light, but demanding in its own way. She points to the two new doors. Lacking in the symbolism the others bear. "Those," she says, for his sake. "Those are the new doors. They didn't open when I last tried."
"I'm glad that I was at the right place at the right time... many others were not so fortunately." The Defender says as he thinks back to that moment when Driscoll was pinned to the wall by one of the alien claws. He does then incline his head to Madison again, "It was a habit, Madison, I guess it was what I was use to when we were back on the island and it carried over."
When the Competitor addresses him as Marshal Kinneson, the Defender nods his head in response, "That was my most recent... identity, Dr. Sterling." When she cuts herself off, he furrows his brows slightly but doesn't press deeper, letting the young woman decide what she chooses to share. Especially since she is still trying to acquire her bearings of wherever they are. As for the doors that the Hunter is speaking to Capitalist about, the Defender has no recognition nor does he know the differences compared to last time, as he had secluded himself in his room the entire duration of their previous stay here in the Facility.
Hearing the stranger speak, The Capitalist quietly tries to guess what she was planning to say to Kinneson. 'I'm sorry?' Is the first statement that comes to mind, especially if the woman were one of the Wei-Yu scientists, but he won't dwell overly much on that. Especially when right then, The Defender reminds him of that life or death moment on the docks, something that makes the fading memory of pain in his left shoulder return again. "Believe me, I'm glad that you were there too, but..." He then gestures to the room around them, "As you can see, our survival didn't mean a thing." And it is here that for a brief time, he returns his attention back to Penitent. Though it's mostly a blur, in the chaos they all were in at the time he remembers that she was there at that very moment.
Feeling The Hunter's hand on his arm, he turns slowly in her direction before his attention is taken by the mystery doors that she now presents. "And... no one's tried to break them down yet? I guess if they did, the doors would fix themselves, but I was hoping that someone had a sneakpeek of what's inside."
"Whatever works for you," The Penitent assures the Defender, offering a beaming smile as she continues to just idly pet that cat in her lap, nodding along to the conversations at hand. "Apparently," she says, gaze drifting back to the Competitor, "Apparently it will happen eventually. At least, if what has happened so far continues -- there's really no way to know if it will or won't, I suppose. But it seems some of us were here before, then we forgot all about this place and were other people."
A shake of her head is there, as she looks towards the door. "You know me," she comments idly to the Capitalist, "I don't see much point in breaking things." Even if she is curious, too.
"I'd prefer... Jenette or Jen for now if that's alright. That title doesn't seem as important here." It's a stark difference to Doctor Sterling's tendency to keep things strictly formal. "And sorry, recent identity?" She looks to Kylie as she further explains the process the more experienced people have already gone through. The implications of their words seem to send the Competitor reeling again. The conversation about the doors are completely lost on her in the midst of trying to figure all this out.
She unsteadily moves over to one of the nearby chairs and sinks down into it. "So it's not just me, there's a reason that her-- my name doesn't sound quite right." The former doctor looks down at the tablet, obviously broken with a large crack in its screen, and unconsciously runs her hand along her temple. She looks over at Thorne, someone who was there in those final moments. "I was sure I had died but then I just woke up here. None of this makes sense."
"No one that I know of," the Hunter says, reiterating a point made earlier. "Like I told you, I just tried to open them with no luck." She gives a small shrug. She showed him the doors! There's a look to Jenette, then, after a moment. It's almost hesitant. Uncertain. She never had too big an issue with the doctor. It was more the company she kept. She'd even recommended Sterling for certain important, people-saving tasks! But knowing that she and January were close makes the part of her that retains Michel's memories wary. Uncertain. Will the woman that betrayed them soon follow? Or was she just part of the fever dream as others have been?
"And it may never make sense," she admits simply, with a small shrug that's almost apologetic. "It's only gotten more confusing for me." She gives a stretch, arms overhead. "I'm going to go grab a bite to eat. Come get me if you have any luck with those doors." And to the dispensary she goes.
When the Capitalist says that their survival did not mean anything, the Defender can't help but frown because he would like to protest that statement, but finds that he is unable to grasp any words to do so. The other man is right, it appears that surviving or not is meaningless, but it felt so wrong of him to not try to survive, to try to help others, even if all paths lead back here. As for the Penitent voicing her thoughts on breaking the door, the Defender echos it, "And who knows what is waiting for us behind that door. Don't forget, the entire mess on the Noc started because some scientists were a bit too curious. As so far, whatever weapons we have here are just for show."
The Defender is adapting, to identities, ones he knows of and now the ones that are preferred while in the Facility, as the Competitor offers her own preferences, "For some of us, what we experienced on the Noc isn't the only memories we have with us. I, myself, have another set of memories, very clear ones. On what was supposed to be an uninhabited island, where a festival was taking place. A festival that... ended very badly." The confusion that she is having, he can empathize as he was lost in his own thoughts earlier when he was alone in the Parlour. When the Hunter excuses herself to the dining area, he gives her a short nod.
At the moment, the Defender is occupying one of the arm chairs, the cup of coffee in his hand now cold and completely forgotten.
"Ooo," says Creepshow as she emerges from the hall, wearing a 'Little Red Dress', the kind Ramona would wear that, along with her bob gives her a vampy, silver screen starlet look. "A new member of the WTF club. At least it's never boring here." She waggles fingers at Penny and gives her a little smile and a good once-over, maybe gauging where her mood and head is at after round two. "So we can gain members. Anyone notice if we've lost any? Probably too early, huh - people still hiding in their rooms and all, I imagine. I did that for a bit, until someone interrupted my pity party. Asshole."
While Conrad would have left the doors for someone else (The Hunter) to deal with, this version of the Capitalist seems a little more hands-on and intrigued by them, his tactical mind going to work on just how one would go about opening these. Though just as with the Defender silently disagreeing with something which he had said, the Capitalist does say in a response to the other man's mention along the lines of how curiosity killed the cat. "While, I would agree to that, somewhat," He starts, his hand reaching for the door knob with a strong grip, before he crouches down in front of one of the doors to further investigate how well the knob is bolted to the door itself. He then continues, "In our situation, since we have found no other way out of this prison, I'm more than willing to take some chances."
That's when he hears yet another voice joining theirs and from his crouched position, he looks over his shoulder to view the Creepshow when she makes her appearance. His most recent memory of the woman pops into his head first. That's the synth at the brothel... but soon recognition from the past kicks in and he realizes that the whore synth was also... Oh her. "I didn't even realize that Anton was here after the Island." He says, returning to his prodding at the door, "So they very well could be in hiding."
"I don't think you can fairly blame the scientists," Penitent says in her serene kind of voice. "They will investigate things. It is what they do. Is there such a thing as 'too curious?' Besides the station shaking is what ruined everything." She's curled up in her spot on the couch still, with the cat happily sitting in her lap. For now at least! "And besides, what's the worst that could happen? We know that dying even in here doesn't stop us from waking up again."
She nods after the brief explanation of the Island "Yes. The Island. We had different names and different lives. Many of us died there, too." She's calm. Thoughtfull. Though her lips do quirk into a small little smile when she realises the Creepshow is here. It flickers away when the Creepshow starts speaking. "Hello, Esmona." That just popped into her head.
The Competitor watches Thorne leave with an uncertain expression, perhaps still trying to piece together if it's really the ex-marine or someone with an uncanny resemblance to her. She looks particularly anxious over the fact that the more experienced 'residents' are just as in the dark about what this place actually is. "That sounds like it would get crowded," She says a bit wryly in response to Wolfram's words. "But how is that even possible? For those memories to be true you'd have to have lived entirely different lives to the ones on the Penumbra station. But then you've remembered them both somehow." The scientist part of her is clearly trying to rationalize this in some way. The Competitor turns her attention to Creepshow and gives the woman in red a once-over. "I wouldn't blame them. I'm still not entirely convinced that I'm... awake." She shifts in her seat and looks to Wolfram, gesturing to the cup in his hands. "Do you mind? I could use... anything, really."
The Defender is certainly not rising out of his seat to stop the Capitalist from trying to open the door, but he does continue to watch. When the Penitent shares that dying here will result in a resurrection, he can't help but frown yet again, "Really..." In his head, he has already assumed that they've tested it, which he finds rather morbid as well. "We may wake up again, but were there any adverse affects to those who died here? Any changes? Not just physically." With the Creepshows arrival, the Defender studies her and tries to place her. He does recall her on the Noc but remembers even more clearly, her role as the photographer of the dead.
When the Competitor tries to puzzle out how the multiple lives work, the Defender tries to offer some information, at least from his point of view. "You would think we would remember entire lives, but we don't. We only remember clearly what happened around the time the craziness goes down. Everything else before and after," If there is even an after for some people, "Is very fuzzy... most of it having slipped away. Similar to how sometimes you remember a dream you have when you wake up, but that evenetually fades away." When she gestures to his cup of coffee in his hand, that is when he remembers that he actually got himself a cup, "If you really want it... from what I have found, you can get a hot cup from the processor thing. Fresh. You can get just about anything you want I think."
The Defender actually rises to his feet, willing to give the cup of coffee over to the Competitor as he says, "I think I'm going back to my room. I need... some time to think some more things through."
The disappearing smile from Penny gets a slight tilt of Creepy's head and a quirk of a 'brow just below bangs. Her gaze narrows slightly, but all those nifty tricks she had as a synthetic are gone. No reading heart rate, breathing, temperature and other tells anymore, and that makes her frown in annoyance. It's brief, though, and soon she smiles again. "That makes you Madlie, you realize. Are we sure we want to go that route?"
At Wolfram's question about adverse effects, she snorts. "I was always like this, so... no?"
If The Capitalist had some sort of tool to work with, he may have continued to proceed, but he may have to check in with the Hunter on this one. Or see what other wonders those processors in the kitchen can churn out. Rising to stand, he takes this moment to try the second mystery door to no avail. Both were definitely locked and, for the most part, the doors leading to rooms that people tend to occupy remained open even when the occupant hadn't arrived yet.... or whatever happens to bring them here.
Somewhat disappointed by all of this, he decides to go join the others, though makes his way towards the processor to conjure up something to drink, "So you have absolutely no memory of my festival on the island?" This is spoken almost naturally now, despite having spent a good portion of his waking moments trying to suppress all memories of the island or that he was Conrad Wellson. Still, he looks across the way to Jenette. He might not have been able to tell her apart from any other festival-goer, so he wouldn't be surprised if she were there, but he hadn't noticed. Like Esme!
"We don't quite remember things though. Think about it; think about Jenette Sterling. Think about her life before the Noc." The Penitent leaves it like that. No need to explain, the Competitor will realize soon enough that her memories are not quite memories.
She does flash a grin at the Creepshow though. "I don't mind the sound of Madlie, actually. It's better than ... Kylison." A pause, and she considers. "It still isn't me though." A shake of her head, she lifts a hand to wave vaguely at the Defender. "Don't we all."
Despite being on the edge of a breakdown, the Competitor does listen attentively to Wolfram's explanation on the specifics of what they do and don't remember. Her expression turns thoughtful as she muses over the information. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," She says in response to the vital intel on acquiring more caffeine as she takes the cup. The Competitor downs the coffee quickly, only shuddering a little at how cold it is. Maybe she just wants to feel a little more awake.
"I'm afraid not," Jenette replies to the Capitalist's question with a shake of her head. She seems to be about to go on but Kylie's query gets her to consider just what she does remember again. "Before the Noc? Well, I-- Sterling was assigned to the Ludovica obviously. Uh, I remember that we decided to dock after the retrieval mission." She's clearly struggling to pin down the details of what happened before that.
Before he leaves, the Defender does look back to Creepy, as she volunteers the info that she was the one that was off'd. "I'm glad then." A pause before he quickly adds, "That there seems to be no long-term adverse effects." Unfortunately, being able to die only to be revived the next day makes this whole thing even more confusing. It is pretty amazing, watching someone being able to down cold coffee, but he can't blame the Competitor. Different people react to their awakenings differently and for him, he has to do more quiet thinking.
"Good nights..." The Defender hesitates before adding, "Or day." With that said, he turns and heads towards the hallway with the rooms so he can return to his own room.
"It's a name," says Creepshow with a shrug. "It's a start, right? Until you pick something of your own." She moves to sit next to Penny and, if allowed, kind of slump against her. They were close on the Noc. Maybe she's testing how much of that carried over. She was always nicer to Penny than most of the others last time around, too, so maybe she just feels friendly. Ramona was nothing like Esme, after all.
Each morning since the survivors woke, it's been the same. Pounding on the inside of that door to the Visionary's room, muffled noises. It doesn't open.
It may not have been long, but the pattern is already established enough to likely be familiar to the residents of the Facility. The pattern finally breaks as it opens, and what looks like the world's ugliest patchwork Pier 1 silk jewel-toned quilt walks out of it, on bare feet. There's surely a Visionary under there, but the horribly gaudy blanket covers substantially more of her than any of her hippie dresses, with a cloak piled on top. The hands holding it around her have notable scratches and bruises across the knuckles, just enough to have drawn a small amount of blood. She's like the Virgin Mary of recycled saris.
Still human, check.
She's twitching just a little, and headed toward the dispensary with a shuffle of steps. Two new doors. For a moment, she stops dead, staring. "If doors, then fire. Something else to set on fire," she mutters to herself, talking all too quickly.
The Capitalist's drink of choice at this moment is a cup of hot coffee. No frills. Though he does have a handful of chocolate covered coffee-beans to go along with it. He's taking an idle sip from his mug when he steps back into the parlor. "Well, I could go on and say 'That's too bad'," his response to The Competitor having no memory of Wyred Fest, "But with how well that went, I can't say you missed anything. Unless you like your wild parties mixed in with a disaster here or there." The festival was all Conrad's idea and something that he'd almost defend til the end. Perhaps wearing Wellson's watch on his wrist isn't hampering Driscoll's 'takeover' of the two personas, or the Capitalist simply doesn't care.
Finding a seat at one of the couches, but not sitting beside anyone in particular, he then says, "It does make me wonder what you, yourself, were up to during our stint on the Island." His dark gaze is focused on The Competitor, just as he takes another sip from his hot drink. "Like, were you in some sort of stasis during that time? Were you not fully formed?" It's an odd question, but The Hunter had brought up that they may not be human. However silly that sounded.
With the Visionary's arrival, his attention focuses on her now. She is one of those who he remembers clearly enough in both lives. She, like Ramona, was a synth in this last one. "From what I'm told, no one's set fire to anything this time around." A pause, "Or not yet anyway."
Curled up in her 'spot' on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, cat sitting on her lap. "It's something I suppose, yes. But we're different people now. I don't know if it's safe to assume this is going to happen again -- yet another life on top of the others -- how can we assume anything here? But constantly hacking names together might not be the wisest." She's still idly petting that cat, seeming to not mind the presence of Creepshow slumping against her. It makes Pants perk up and stare at 'Ramona'.
There's a glance to the Capitalist. "That's a good point. We have new people. It's hard to tell who is here and isn't at the best of times. Some don't show up here. Some don't come out of their rooms." She pauses in her talking when The Visionary comes on through. "Dahlia. Hello." She gives her vague smile to the passing woman, watching her wander. "She seems distressed." She murmurs.
"I wasn't very fond of parties or festivals anyway, wild or not. I'm pretty sure," The Competitor adds that last bit on with a noticeable frown. The Capitalist asks some very good questions then but, along with the appearance of the Visionary with her dazzling quilt and talk of fire, it proves to be a bit too much for the former Wey-Yu geneticist. "Not fully formed? This is ridiculous, I -am- Jenette Sterling. Why am I questioning who I've always been?" Jenette doesn't sound convinced of it herself as she pushes herself up from her seat, broken tablet still held close.
The Competitor points at the Penitent when she mentions stress. "Yes, that's it. We must be responding to traumatic stress or something similar. Perhaps... we all made it off the station, after all." Somehow. The unlikely possibility of this doesn't stop her from trying to rationalize things as her previous persona would. "... And we've been taken to a mental health facility of some kind to recover from the experience. That must be it."
"The doors are new," Creepshow agrees, nodding as she gives them another look. "They weren't here when I had my layover as Ramona. I'd remember them if they were. But nope, no doors. No one else here, either. At all. Just me." Another frown and a sigh. "Then Venus reactivated me, and I was back there again, no memory of here." She watches Visionthing the Ambulatory Linen pass by, 'brow quirking again. "You're human again," she calls over to her. "In case you're, you know... wondering. Nice blanket."
To Jenette, "...Or you could listen to those of us who've gone through this before." A beat. "Though everyone has to figure it out on their own, I guess."
"Jonas thought we might be gods of some kind," the Visionary rattles out; again, she speaks too quickly, enough so that her tongue seems to trip over the words. "Spectacularly shitty gods, if we are." There is a pause, and her head cants with a snap beneath the swaddled drape of bedspread. "Jonas isn't here. Wasn't there. Must have been a really shitty god, if he was." Her brain is still clearly overclocked, and misfiring wildly. "Or maybe he was the only not shitty god, and doesn't have to be here any more." No, even she doesn't consider this a serious theory on any level, but it's hard to tell with the way she's speaking.
"I need cigarettes," is the only thing she says that sounds remotely normal. "Dahlia. Pandora. Cassandra, Cassie, Cass. Any of them. All of them, maybe." The flare of lucidity is brief, and ends with a fretful crease of her brows. "There were three of me. Somehow. Three of me, this time. How were there three of me?" She smiles to the Penitent, the Creepshow, and the Capitalist, familiar faces seeming to give her some measure of ease. "Maybe that's how I'm a god. I can make more of me. Isn't one more than enough?" she's asking herself absently as she pads into the dispensary to punch at buttons for something to end the two day long nicotine fit that can't be helping matters much. It's only once she's retrieved them and stands in the frame of the door, the box of cloves torn crookedly open, that she offers a brief flicker of a smile to the Competitor. "Hello. We haven't met, I don't think." She's already got one of the cloves to her lips and is scrambling around the matches while trying to hold the blanket up, and the cigarette bounces along with her words as she says, "Did anybody tell you about the name experiment?" Another brief moment of clarity, not that the words themselves make any sense.
She puts it almost too simply: "Jenette. That's a very pretty name. You should keep it. If you like it, of course. But know that if you're Jenette Sterling, scientist for Weyland-Yutani, I am a synthetic, and-" She displays the gory mess that is her knuckles as she shakes out the match as she nods toward the Creepshow, and her assertion that she's human. "-my hands would not look this way. My door would have holes in it. All the numbers would make sense."
"Perhaps that wasn't exactly what I meant," The Capitalist starts, his gaze back on the Competitor, "Hell, I don't even know what I meant." It's when the young woman grows all the more adamant about her own persona, that she /was/ Jenette Sterling that does bring back memories of things that he, himself had said after they woke up in this place from the Island. However, now he has another's memories, so what does that mean? Leaning forward to set his mug of coffee on the coffee table, he pops one of the chocolate-coffee bean mixtures into his mouth. "You very well may be right, Dr. Sterling. I mean, what's to say that the space station? That whole thing? Was just another life for some of us. Reincarnation. Not that I believed in any of that, but I've never found myself in a place like this before." Not that he'd remember...
Though when the Visionary goes on her little, or not so little, rant on them being gods, the Capitalist's brow lifts as his arms cross over his chest when he leans back more comfortably against the couch, "I like her idea best. And yeah, I remember there being three of you. But you were also a robot." His eyes flicker to the Creepshow too now, but he doesn't say 'the both of you were', even though it's clear on his expression. And Ramona is bringing up her time.... he then blinks, "You were here before all of this? I mean, I know that we appear here at separate times, often depending on our deaths but..." Then he realizes what she is talking about: being deactivated. While he has many questions that he'd like to ask the synths, he refrains from doing so, feeling that it may just be rude.
"You ... were back here when Ramona turned herself off? That ... I'm sorry about that." The Penitent says, her voice touched with sympathy as she frowns at the idea. Being alone here was her biggest worry when Madison first died; thankfully she only had to experience it for minutes at most. Actually being alone? Must have been the worst. She shifts slightly, reaching over to off a reassuring hand upon the Creepshow's arm, which does jostle the cat a little! Making him hop down and begin to explore. "I rememeber ... Kira." She says to the Visionary, glancing up there. "That must be pretty strange." She can't imagine having been artifical.
When Jenette is asserting her identity, the Penitent gives a slight nod. She's heard that before, her gaze naturally drifting towards the Capitalist. "I wouldn't mind if that were true. I liked being Kylie, but. I shot myself. I am reasonably certain it killed me."
"I don't know. If we were gods, why are we trapped? I don't feel like a god." She shakes her head again.
A nod, Creepy bobbing her head and brushing at her hair, gaze down. "I was," she confirms. "For a synthetic, that's 'off', no latent processes, no background noise. It's the equivalent of dead. I woke up here." She looks to the doors again, leaning into Penny's reassuring hand just a bit. "Those weren't here. For whatever it's worth. And the TV was off and wouldn't turn on. No Westerns."
She gives Penny a brief hug and gets back up. "I need to get a drink. Excuse me." Off she heads, towards the dispensary. A wave to Jenette as she goes. "C'mon, I'll show you."
The Visionary seems to ease once she manages a few puffs from the clove, even if she still looks entirely ridiculous. Looking ridiculous is the sort of trivia she can't be bothered with, for the moment. "Maybe gods in training. Godling kindergarten."
"But I think the playthings of gods, more like. Or this is Hell. My room is quite assuredly Hell. My very own, custom-fit." Swishing toward a chair within the ample volume of her blanket, curls still half-hooded, dragging a straggling train behind her, she collapses into a chair only to pull up her feet to vanish into the glittery silk patchwork. "Kira was the clever one. Don't let anyone tell you different," she insists to the Penitent. "But I don't think she got out. I don't know about Mia. Mia vanished. Mia would have loved all the fires, though." Briefly, there's a twinge of regret washing over her features, as though she's sad her not-at-all-real 'sister' will doubtless miss whatever fires are set this time.
"I got out. I didn't expect to get out. Didn't bring any of my things, even. Only his things, and he doesn't exist, either." It's clearly a point of frustration, as her words speed up again. "So much fuss and panic over people who don't exist, I wish we could better keep track of the ones who actually do, but the nonexistent people are just as heavy to carry as the ones that do, it would seem, so I'm not sure how we'd manage to tell one from the other." That is not anything like logic.
Pants is a happy distraction, and she peers out from over her cigarette, craning her neck just enough to free her head from the makeshift hood and look down. "Hello, Purr-Creature. You may or may not also be a god," she notes as seriously to the cat as she had to the others, "but you will be treated like one, I'm certain." At least on that front, she isn't at all wrong.
"Maybe they were all a part of you, each holding a fragment of your personality." The Capitalist says from his place on the couch, right before he's popping the last of the chocolate covered coffee beans into his mouth, chasing it down with an unnecessary sip of coffee. "And how do you know that 'he' isn't here?" The man's not quite sure who this 'he' is, but with so new faces showing up, those who were not there on the Island, there was a good chance that anyone they knew on the Noc could eventually open up one of these doors and step outside.
With The Hunter's cat wandering around, The Capitalist watches it with only a passing interest. He's not as fond of the creature as some other's may be, but he doesn't dislike it enough for the thing to hold his interest. "Either way, I have some thinking to do." This was the first that he's been out of his room in days. With his coffee cup in hand, the contents still hot, he takes a step in the direction of the hallway. "Maybe I can use my business card to try and an unscrew the bolts on the door." He's mostly talking to himself.
With the cat having left her, now enthralled by a new person, and with Creepshow off to show Jenette where the dispensers are, Penitent also rises to her feet. "Well. At least we didn't get blown up this time." She says with a bit of a smile. "That's something. I would have liked to have gotten out, though." Sigh. She shakes her head, and begins to move towards the hall herself.
She does note to the Capitalist though, "I'm sure Thorne has some things that could help. Also I have Kylie's multitool." But she keeps on walking.
"Maybe," the Visionary considers the Capitalist's words. "Mia was the most like Dahlia. But then, I was... " A slinky hussy that sounded like she was short of breath. And that thought brings a notable frown. "...not very me. Not on the surface, anyway." Her nose wrinkles. "I was rewriting my brain when I fell asleep. I thought I had finally cracked some mystery code or broken something very badly." She glances after the Capitalist, and rises to her feet, leaning down to let the cat sniff her hand before ruffling the furball's ears gently. "Everything in there is still sideways, but I remember Kira, and Mia. Kolvek, and Cole. None of them from the island, none here." And, still trailing a spiral of blue-tinged smoke behind her, she begins to shuffle back toward her room.
"Revel in the spoiling, Purr-Creature. I'm sorry we don't have any sunbeams for you, though," she says with what sounds like sincere regret as she makes her way down the hall toward her door. "Not blowing up is good!" she calls back toward the Penitent as she slips into her room, barely opening the door to wedge herself through. It initially closes on the end of the blanket, opens by a crack for the blanket to be snatched back in, and then shuts once more.
"Sterling wasn't on the island. Doesn't remember being there and she's here now." The Capitalist says to The Visionary when she moves pass him and into the hallway, the same direction that he was headed to. In fact, he trails behind her a bit until they pass the first door in the long hall and here he simply knocks on it. "Maybe they are in hiding. There are some, like Kinneson who never stepped out of his room after the Island. Then there were a few faces that showed up that we couldn't pinpoint. Both men. One... a priest." When there is no response to his knocking, he simply moves on, slipping his free hand into his pocket while the other continues to carry his mug of coffee. "If I were in any position to be in charge of this whole mess," He's talking about the Facility, "I'd call for a meeting. Take a count of who all is here." His eyes flicker now to that odd symbol on his door: A finely dressed man counting coins in his hand. Was that supposed to represent...him? Why?
"Not that I expect everyone to show up." He adds to that, finally, before pushing his own door open to retreat into the solitude there.