Post by Deleted on Jun 28, 2021 13:51:26 GMT -7
Ursula Von Rossbach sits in her private theater room, watching the replay of her battle against Hirata Dokueki in the Atlantic City Boardwalk hall. Rarely did she feel such intense remorse for her actions as she watched them unfold. Had it been anyone else, she would not feel for them this much, but who had been injured at her hand is a dear friend. Each blast of explosive, every violent impact of limb and body triggering memories of where she was at that moment, until she saw her own fear staring back at her. She had begun to succumb to the symptoms of PTSD. The vacant gaze and quivering hands, the fight for control visible upon her face until suddenly it ceased and Ursula realized fully what had happened....
"You let me in," came that familiar, deep synthesized voice from the back of her mind.
She takes in a deep breath and sips from the glass of wine beside her, continuing to watch the violent decimation of her dear friend at her own hands.
"Yes Ursula, stay quiet and accept that you cannot do anything without me," the Machine said in it's cold, calculating tone.
It began with a single trail of moisture running down her cheek. At first, she does not notice, so deep in her lamentation was she.
"If I had not taken control, it would have been you at her mercy."
Another sip of the dark, rich red Zinfandel as she watches the final moments of the battle where her past self hoists Hirata Dokueki up, clearly unconscious at this point and slams her right into an exploding table with her finishing maneuver, the Von Terminator. It was already over, but no, the Machine forced her to go that extra mile. It was torturous for her to see the exact moment when the control was relinquished as she stood over her vanquished foe, the look of bewilderment in her eyes that quickly became acceptance from someone who was not entirely aware of what had happened.
"It would have been her standing over your bloody, broken body if not for me, Ursula."
More tears began to fall as her stared stoically at her glass of wine, the feed now paused with the push of a button on her remote.
"Remember how you longed to be the valiant warrior, riding your steed to slay the dragon?"
She heard the dark, mechanical chuckle in the back of her mind and instantly her anger flared.
"You're welcome."
The Lady Terminator rose from her seat and hurled the glass across the room in a wicked display of anger, an explosion of glass and red wine hitting the wall. She then wipes at her eyes, finally noticing the tears that had been running from them unbidden or wanted.
"Perhaps it should have been me," Ursula said softly.
In the darkest corner of the screen, two soft glowing red eyes stare back at her from the glossy, reflective surface of the bezel.
"You could be so much more..." The machine replied.
"...and yet so much less if I willingly allowed you to take hold of my life again," Ursula replied.
The eyes vanished as The Lady Terminator gathered her composure, turned the video screen off, and exited her theater room. In the back of her mind, the machinations of the Machine continue. Was it winning or was it a moment of weakness that may have cost her the livelihood of a dear friend? She would clean her mess later, for now she must visit her friend and face the consequences of what she had done.