Post by ༺☆Venelop3☆༻ on Dec 14, 2022 11:06:08 GMT -6
Present Day. A small town near Boulder, Colorado. Exterior, Night.
A woman trods down the road, dim streetlights flickering overhead, casting the moths orbiting them in sharp, momentary silhouette. Commanding the centre of the empty road with a broad presence which defies her age and her cane, the woman stops a few paces in front of her destination. Iris Finch Elementary. So named for a suffragette who died during a protest here, the woman recalls, though the factoid marks no particular importance to her visit. Her interest, rather, lies in the small noticeboard staked into the ground at the front of the footpath leading to the schoolhouse entrance.
Most of the signs and posters thereon have bleached or rotted from decades of summer sun and winter damp, but clawing a few loose scraps away, she finds what she's looking for: a hand-written poster. Pale, tattered, but fully legible.
"Congratulations to Timmy Tosser for his big win in Iris Finch Elementary's annual snowball tournament, 1978!"
Pasted below it, a stained but recognizable Polaroid photograph.
She carefully removes the poster and deposits it into a manila envelope, whose face bears the legend, "FOR DESTROYAL". She further places the envelope into a plastic sleeve, before stuffing the whole affair in the inner pocket of her coat. She will not be in Colorado before the next nightfall. There is yet more work to do before she can find out where the Machine has fled to. There's a pattern here somewhere, surely. It's coming someday soon—she can feel it in her bones.
Timotheus Tosser was created decades ago, part of a top secret Foreign Integration project during the cold war. The purpose of the Machine would've been to infiltrate enemy lines, live among them, and report back enemy information without the ethical issues associated with training and sending actual children abroad. He escaped his creators, but has been leaving a subtle paper trail wherever he feels compelled to enlist his primary talents: throwing heaps of snow with speed and precision.
He is hunted, slowly but surely, by the lead engineer of the project, who expends vast personal resources to pick up his scent wherever he's been over the decades past.
(The above written by the lovely Peregrine~!)
On the other side of the World, not too far from Fauna's Forest.
[Message Verified.]
[Parsing Attribute Matrices.]....[Return Flag 224, Success.]
[Correlating Impulse Tensors.]...[Return Flag 223, Success. Some Adjacencies Are Misaligned. Correct Adjacencies?]
>> [Y]
[Realigning Adjacencies].........[Return Flag 224, Success.]
[Designating Form Factor.].......[Return Flag 10, SUCCESS. Found Designation "Fauna's Forest" Found in Storage. Refactor?]
>> [Y]
[Refactoring...].................
Timmy blinks a few times as his processes sink in. In his hand he is gripping the note sent to him from Fauna. He doesn't know how he was tracked down to be sent a note, but this note got to him. Delivered to his name and all, how confusing, he doesn't remembering becoming a "Sapling", was his a mistake? No there are never mistakes, we've calculated. There must e reasoning here, but also because there must be snow, that's why, Fauna's forest must be snowed on, she realised he would like it there and sent the letter. Yes. That makes it all very less confusing. Timmy has convinced himself that there is snow in Fauna's Forest. Throwing snow is the most enjoyable sensation in the world, why should there be any other tasks. He stuffs the note from Fauna into his pocket, it's crumpled up now into almost a ball, he thinks about maybe throwing it, but it has the address on it, so it's probably important, he'll throw it later, when there is less snow around. Timmy has tried to do his research into this "Fauna" and her friends called "Vtubers" he feels like they are very interesting people, he wonders if he'd meet any other interesting people. Maybe they will look after him, and maybe they'll throw snow with him. He approaches the front greenery of Fauna's Forest, there is no one else here yet, well that's boring what ever shall he do. Oh yes, the ball. He grabs the paper ball out of his pocket. He sees the sign that says "Fauna's Forest", he prepares his throw, it's a good 30ft. Wind up... wind up.... THROW. *BING* It hits the sign right in the centre, bullseye. The only goal is to keep on living. He must stay out of the reach of his creators and just keep on surviving, and just keep on throwing snow.
Omegaa opens her eyes. "The first of the NPC's have arrived, the robot child." "The robot child?" asks Mumei through the door. "Why yes, a very interesting character I have been writing about he was created as a tool for the Cold War, they made him in a child vision, and unfortunately that made him too much like a child mentally, and all he wanted to do is throw snow balls, thus he escaped his captors. He's one of the people I need for this door." "Ah yes, the child I convinced Fauna to bring, some of these have been harder than others, finding him was a challenge." "Thank you for working so hard, unfortunately this is only the beginning."
~Chapter Two End~
(If you have any Timmy related questions ask Pere!)
you got this
