Chapter Summary:

"Last night I dreamed I climbed to the top of a mountain of metal...and for miles, I could see the destruction of man."

Trigger comes face-to-face with the devil in his head.

/-/-/Trigger Warning: Unintentional Self-Harm/-/-/
/-/-/PROCEED WITH CAUTION/-/-/


Trigger had expected it to happen, but he'd at least hoped he'd be able to explain his theory before he was abruptly paralyzed.

Not literally paralyzed, if what the parasite inside him was doing with his body was any indication, but it was close enough-he couldn't body his body on his own, the other having assumed complete control.

Once again, he was a puppet for this thing. He cursed his inability to resist its influence as the two people sitting in the room with him stared as if he'd grown a second head (which, at this rate, he wouldn't be all that surprised if he had.)

"That's not Trigger," Prez breathed, and he felt his heart sink as the thing inside him responded.

"That is correct."

It was his voice, and yet it wasn't him, it wasn't him, it wasn't HIM—

"Beginning introductory sequence…My software designation is Zone of Endless version 3.5.1. My individual designation is 'Nemo.' It is a pleasure to finally be able to speak with my father's friends."

He wouldn't have commented on that even if he could. Even were he not being held hostage by this machine, he didn't have the words to explain how he felt.

Zone of Endless.

Memories from twenty years ago were brought to bear in an instant, weeping like freshly-opened wounds.

The fucking drones.

The ones that had wanted to copy him, the ones that by all rights should have succeeded had he not twisted Fate's arm.

He remembered coughing and sputtering as he stepped out of the Raptor; he'd had the endurance that that Mihaly had lost in his old age, but even he had had to strain every last fiber of his being to win and survive against the twin machines. He hadn't really felt the effects before—whether due to being too focused on the battle or from sheer adrenaline, he didn't think he'd ever be certain.

But the instant he'd touched down, he'd realized just how broken he was—he wheezed with every breath, black spots danced across the edges of his vision, and his head felt like it had recently been caved in with a sledgehammer.

He'd never felt so sick before. Not when he'd been sentenced to getting thrown into suicide missions, not when he'd had to kill someone for the first time, not even when he'd gotten food poisoning after getting desperate enough to eat the expired cereal in the cupboard when he was six.

His vision had begun fading in and out as soon as his feet made contact with the Earth, and his limbs had given out and gone limp shortly after. Tabloid and the Scrap Queen had to work together to prop him up, which in his barely-lucid state almost seemed funny given the former had lost half of his left arm to falling rubble and the latter still had their leg in a brace.

The ace pilot had just gotten back from killing the two most advanced AIs the world had ever seen, and now he had to rely on these two misfits just to stand up.

Hilarious.

After he'd finished projectile-vomiting off the side of the carrier, he'd started laughing.

He'd laughed, and laughed, and laughed and laughed and laughed and—

He was snapped back to reality by the sound of Ymir coughing and sputtering.

"Are you in need of assistance?" "Nemo" asked the man, reaching out. Ymir nearly leaped out of his seat, which Trigger couldn't really blame him for, all things considered. He would probably do the same thing too if he could move away from himself. Or…move at all.

Really, at this point, he'd settle for curling into a ball in the corner of the room and crying.

"N-no, no, I'm fine," Ymir responded in a hurry, before adjusting his glasses. "Just—you just startled us, is all. Could you, er…tell us more about yourself? Prez, get me a steno pad, they're in the desk over there..."

"Absolutely," Nemo responded, and then proceeded to sit in silence.

Prez slowly backed away, never once looking away from him, which stung just a little bit even though he knew the fear wasn't directed at him. A tiny pang in his chest wanted to ask, We're still friends, right?

It was completely irrational and irrelevant, but it hurt, damn it.

She came back with a clipboard and steno pad, still watching him nervously.

His face shifted to a look of concern. "Okay, so firstly…is, er, i-is Trigger still…in there?"

"…I don't understand the question. What should he be in?"

Ymir seemed a little disarmed by the response. "Er…let me rephrase that. Is Trigger still awake?" Apparently this thing only understood fairly literal questions.

YES. YES. I AM RIGHT HERE—

"Yes. My father is still conscious and aware of what is occurring."

THANK YOU.

It was the bare minimum I could do.

Oh, right, it could still talk in his head…Wait, hold on just a fucking second—

"He's listening, then…Don't worry, Trigger, we'll get back to you really soon, alright? Now, ah…Nemo, right? I'm going to need to know more about your hardware specifications, at least insofar as it's relevant to Trigger's health…Firstly, what's your power source? Do you have a battery, or are you powered by something else?"

"My control unit is designed to draw power from various sources. Normally, I would obtain power from the engines of an equipped COFFIN aircraft. Currently, this is not an option, so I am tapping into my father's bloodstream to draw power from the glucose contained within it. It is an…inefficient source of power, but effectively unlimited so long as my father remains alive and able to obtain sustenance."

"…What about when you're not connected to any external device? Or, uh…person, in this case? Do you simply turn off?"

"My unit contains an auxiliary power source in the form of a cordium battery, which is roughly 1 centimeter in length. It is currently inactive, and is used as a failsafe. This way, if my housing were to be damaged or disconnected from my control unit, I would not lose any data."

Frenzied thoughts ran through Trigger's head at that notion. It didn't take a lot of cordium to start a chain reaction. And cordium was notorious for the symptoms it could cause to people exposed to it directly. The "transformation," they called it over in Usea—the victim's skin began to peel, their whole body seeming to dry out and mummify while they were still alive. And that was caused by skin contact. Trigger didn't even want to know what would happen if the stuff leaked into someone's brain.

Prez froze up for a moment, before voicing the same concern.

"…Wait, isn't that really dangerous? Couldn't it overheat? What if someone hits him too hard and his head explodes? What if it leaks?"

"These are valid concerns. The battery only produces heat if I am disconnected from a primary power source, or if my father decides to manually activate it, so overheating should not be a problem. It is also shielded from concussive force, which is most fortunate considering the circumstances of how we got here. Leaking…" he paused.

"…Leaking may…potentially…be a health risk for my father."

…That didn't sound good. At least the thing wasn't lying, though.

Ymir hastily scribbled down notes as this was all said, focused intently on every word.

"Is there any way to remove the battery?" He asked.

"To do so would necessitate removing my entire control chip, which at present, given your current equipment, would be inadvisable."

"…Shit."

"Indeed."

"Okay. So…feeds off blood sugar, battery bomb in the head, we can't do anything about it just yet…" he muttered, "One thing. You call Trigger your 'father' a lot. Why is that?"

"Because he is my father."

Ymir pinched the bridge of his nose. "What does Trigger being your father mean to you? What do you define that as?"

Nemo paused for a moment at that.

"He is…the model off of which I am based. And an authority. So he is my father."

Trigger let that sink in.

This thing thought he was its dad?

That was…workable. Possibly. If it thought he was some sort of authority figure, he might be able to use that to keep it in line.

"…I guess the next topic of importance would be why you are here. What's your purpose? What do you do?"

No response.

"Is something wrong?"

The AI had been more than happy to divulge information about itself until now. So why did it refuse to speak?

"I can't…recall. I believe that data may have been corrupted or lost…Father? Do you remember why I'm here?"

Trigger felt a brief, yet sharp pain in his head as memories suddenly flashed through his mind, faster than he could even comprehend them all. Snippets of the last couple of months—talking to his mom on the phone about the possibility of leaving his little hermit-hole and moving back over to Usea to help out her and Dad, Avril texting him for the first time in weeks asking if he'd meet with a friend of hers, getting off a flight and then

.

.

.

And then? What happens next? There's nothing here…

…Was this thing fucking reading his memories?

I can't remember…why can't I…?

It was. It had access to his mind, unrestricted access. How much did it know already? Too much, probably.

He needed this thing out of his head, out of his mind, h̸e̶ ̴w̵a̷s̵ ̷o̷u̵t̴ ̸o̶f̷ ̶h̷i̴s̸ ̸m̴i̷n̴d̴

h̴e̶ w̶o̸u̸l̸d̴ ̴n̸e̶v̸e̸r̴ ̷a̴m̸o̷u̷n̵t̵ ̵t̷o̵ ̷a̷n̸y̶t̵h̷i̸n̴g̴ ̸w̴h̸y̶ ̷d̸i̴d̵ ̷h̶e̴ ̴e̵v̸e̵n̶ ̴b̵o̵t̵h̸e̶r̵ ̸t̶r̴y̶i̴n̶g̸

…Father? Is something wrong?

get out get out get OUT

what are you doing you're going to hurt yourself

G̵E̶T̵O̴U̷T̷O̴F̷M̵E̷Y̴O̸U̶A̷B̵O̷M̷I̶N̶A̸T̷I̶O̷N̵

NO

FATHER

D O N ' T -

—DISCONNECTED—

The first thing Trigger did when he realized he could move again was bolt past Prez and over to the nearest trash can. Somehow, despite struggling to walk normally, instinct had taken over and allowed him to sprint for just a moment.

The second thing he did was hurl. He hadn't eaten anything that day, thank the Dust, but even in the absence of a lunch to lose, his body still found something to upchuck—some foul, acidic solution that burned his mouth and throat long after it was gone.

The third thing he did was scream. It felt like something had ripped in his brain, like the sheer act of reclaiming his own body had torn him apart at the seams. Dimly, he realized this was not unlike what had happened to him when Ymir had first hooked up his arm and leg.

…Father? Did I do something wrong?

Of course.

Nemo was the common link.

NO STOP STOP YOU'RE HURTING US YOU'RE KILLING US

"Get. OUT!" he growled at the thing that had somehow taken up residence inside him.

Somewhere along the line, he'd fallen to his knees, and his fingernails had reached the sides of his head. Vaguely, he could feel something wet on his fingertips. As the pain subsided, he pulled them away, to see them slaked with red. He blinked in confusion for a moment before he finally registered that the substance on his hands was blood.

When had that happened?

…did I do that…?

He startled as another pair of hands snatched up his own, and turned around to find Prez hovering over him.

"Trigger? Are you…you right now?" Prez asked. He nodded slowly, before slumping against the wall and trying to focus on just breathing. The pain was mostly gone, but the feeling of something electric in his head and static in his veins was overloading his senses.

"What did you do to yourself? God, now we've gotta take a look at this, too…"

His hands were released, and Prez pawed through his hair. He winced as her hands brushed up against one of the fresh cuts on the side of his head.

"Shit. These don't look deep, so they'll probably heal on their own at least, but what the fuck were you thinking?"

"…I don't know," he croaked. "I didn't realize I was…it just hurt so bad…"

She sighed. "…You're really gonna want to wash your hair once we're done here. Someone's gonna notice the blood sooner or later. You need help getting up?"

He tried to rise on his own, but the panicked coordination he'd had before had seemingly vanished, and he slid down to the ground again as his right foot slipped out from under him.

He sighed as Prez looped one arm around him, pulling him upright.

"What happened to Nemo, anyways?" She asked.

"I forceed it back, I think. Still there. Listening. Watching everything I do. Need to get it out of me," he choked out as he was set back down in a chair.

i don't understand

Ymir had returned, this time with a medical kit. Trigger hissed as the doctor swabbed at his face with rubbing alcohol.

"Well, if it's so unpleasant, you shouldn't have scratched the sides of your face open, hmm?" he deadpanned.

"I wouldn't have done that if there wasn't a fucking robot possessing me."

Ymir just narrowed his eyes at that. "I saw your eyes when you did that, you know. They were blue. That was all you."

"But—"

"There is no 'but!' I did not give you those prosthetics so you could tear yourself apart with them!" Ymir actually sounded furious. "And moreover, Nemo has done nothing to harm you thus far. He's been nothing but helpful."

"For fuck's sake!" Trigger spat out. "Do you not remember the Lighthouse War? How those 'helpful drones' nearly brought the world to its knees?"

"That was twenty years ago, you can't be sure that Nemo is the same—"

"That's easy to say when you didn't have to live through it!" Trigger shouted. "I and a whole lot of other people put our asses on the line to stop those things. Most of us didn't make it out alive! And you want this one to run free?"

Ymir finally froze at that, processing it. Trigger simply set his jaw further. He did not enjoy talking much about his veteran status, but all too often, people seemed to forget that the things he'd been through had ever happened.

"I want this fucking thing out of my body. I want it gone as soon as possible. And I don't want any talk of this leaving this room. If anyone finds out about this, it could be a disaster." Shaking, he stood up, stalking towards the door.

what did i do wrong please i'll fix it i'll fix it just tell me so i can make everything okay

SHUT UP.

He pulled on his helmet, hoping it would hide the bloody scratches that now adorned his scalp, and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He could hear Prez calling out to him, but he didn't care right now.

He didn't bother going to the showers.

He simply found his dorm, shut himself inside, and locked the door, pulling off his helmet and casting it aside before he collapsed onto the bed. Questions bounced around in his head with no outlet.

What was this thing capable of?

He was the "model that it was based on." Did that mean it had its data? How much had it stolen from him?

How long before this thing figured out how to take control of him completely, and "Trigger" disappeared from the world, leaving only "Nemo?"

Would his family even know the difference?

Distantly, he realized he was crying, but by that point he was already well on his way to falling asleep.


father?

why are you shutting me out?

i did something bad, didn't i..?

i'm sorry i did the bad thing

i just wanted to help

please don't get rid of me

i don't want to disappear