Mission Flesh Mechanic: Playing with patterns

[x-pressive.livejournal.com]

Mark and Doug turn to the newsfeeds and the archives to discover what the hell is going on in Russia. They do good when they're not making tentacle rape jokes.




"God, I think I'm going to get a headache searching through all of this," Doug said, leaning back from his laptop. "I mean, is it possible for these archives to be any -less- efficient? I suppose I should thank god that the Russians got off their collectivized asses enough to enter the late twentieth century and computerize things..." He rubbed his eyebrows softly, staring at the ceiling before turning to Mark to see how he was holding up.

And he wasn't doing any better. At least Doug could read the language. Mark was relegated to reading through translated newsfeeds and Google-translated blogs. "It's like reading Yakov Smirnoff over and over and over again. In Soviet Russia, archives read you."

"Oh, god," Doug managed through a sudden fit of the giggles. "You had to go there, didn't you? It's not even Soviet Russia anymore!" Every attempt to stifle his snickering just led to it bubbling back up. He waved his hand helplessly.

Mark raised an eyebrow at Doug, part amused and part horrified. "I think you're going insane. Srsly." He shook back his long hair from his face and sighed. "It's all the same. 'Creepy flesh monster eats people.' Gah. I was never very good at jigsaw puzzles anyway."

Another giggle escaped Doug before he managed to get himself under control. "Did you really just say 'Srsly'?" he asked with a grin. "Internet memes for the win..." he trailed off and frowned. "Dammit, the game," he muttered to himself. "But yeah, I know what you mean. It's like getting dropped into a bad tentacle anime." He shuddered. "God, there better not be tentacles."

Mark slammed a large volume closed and shook his head. "That's it, I quit. My contract did not include a section about tentacle rape. I cannot be held responsible for anything that happens to anyone if there's even a single tentacle in my vicinity."

"God, I was being -facetious-," Doug replied with a groan. "Now that we've talked about it, there probably -will- be tentacles. I quit too. I did not sign on to this super-spy business to get violated. Exit only, please." He buried his head in his hands

"Anyway. Away from creepy Japanese and back to creepy Russians." Mark turned to his computer and read through the first news article he'd found about the attack in Arcangel. "Your super brain pinging on any connections between these two attacks? A custodian of some kind and a railroad worker from different parts of the country. This isn't some kind of big Soviet demon possession, is it?"

"God! Don't say that!" Doug exclaimed. "Saying that sort of thing makes it happen! Haven't you ever heard the expression 'speak of the devil and he shall appear'?" Doug shuddered. "I've already had to deal with one Russian demonic...thinger, and that was one too many for this lifetime." He sighed. "And I've got nothing. None of the victims have a single thing in common. I can't interpret a pattern if there's, y'know, -no pattern-."

Mark threw up his hands in defeat. "Then you're useless eye candy," he remarked. "This looks a lot like that movie Akira. Big government research conspiracy turns innocent people into ginormous flesh monsters of doom. God, I hope we're not dealing with a massive psychic."

"Government conspiracy..." Doug muttered to himself. "What if the pattern isn't in the people...?" Take the time to see things differently. See the two white swans instead of the one black one. See the slice of pie instead of the pie with the slice missing... He paged back through the reports, biting his lip in concentration. "The targets," he said after a moment. "Relatively new businesses, all involved in reclaiming old infrastructure, especially power networking. Replacing old cabling with new links."

"Someone who isn't fond of modernization, then?" proposed Mark. He stood up and walked over to Doug to peer over his shoulder. "Trying to reclaim old Soviet glory? Didn't you guys just fight Nazis a little while ago? And now we have Bolsheviks. Nice."

"The Nazi thing was pretty funny. We had a Jew, a Gypsy, and a French person beating the crap out of Nazis. Good times." Doug chuckled dryly. "But yeah, that's about the best I can figure. Someone objects to the infrastructure replacement. Not really sure why, though..."

"Maybe they don't like the new color scheme," Mark quipped. "Pink tumory meat is so last season. If anything, they should get with the times just for that." He flopped back into his seat and sighed. "So. New equals bad. That's a start, right?"

"Yeah, it's a start," Doug agreed. "Now that we know what the pattern is, we just have to figure out what the motive in attacking these places is." He paused. "If this is some crazy Russian Sierra Club thing, I'm gonna laugh."

"Russian eco-terrorists? I didn't think Russia even knows what the environment is." Mark logged back onto his computer and turned to Doug. "So where do we go from here, Mister Genius?"

"Well, I think we're supposed to get back together with everyone for a 'what did you find out' meeting at some point, so hopefully the others will be able to put a few more pieces of the puzzle together," Doug answered. "Past that, I think we've Sherlock-ed about as much as we can from this."