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TDM #12 - Give 'em Pumpkin to Talk About [FIRST EDITION]
Pumpkin Hollow Gazette
9/18/25 | TDM #12 - Give 'em Pumpkin to Talk About [First Edition]
Fall Pokémon Types - Ghost, Dark, Flying, Electric, Poison
WELCOME TO PUMPKIN HOLLOW
By Yorick Aberdeen
The crop for which the town is named.
Ahh, Autumn! The time of year when Pumpkin Hollow is at its most vibrant and beautiful. If this is your first day on Marrow Isle, then you’ve arrived at the perfect time!
Due to some unexpected weather difficulties, our harvest this year will be somewhat leaner than other years, but not to worry! Our local earth mages, druids, and garden witches have it under control! Now that the skies are under Mother Celestine’s jurisdiction once more, there will be plenty of food to enjoy over PumpkinFest--- which will run in Downtown Hollow for the entire season this year! Please grab yourself a festival schedule from Town Hall, the Oak & Iron, or the newsstand outside Pinhole Printing and Binding for more information about this season’s most treasured festivities celebrating the export which gave this town its name.
We invite you, as with all those who came before you, to enjoy your stay at the Oak & Iron tavern inn while you settle in. (Or the Autumn Leaves Dormitory House, for the newly arrived youngsters.) Please stop by Town Hall to discuss opportunities for work and more permanent housing! All newcomers get 100 Brass in their pocket upon arrival as well, so we encourage you to take advantage of this as well. Reach out to your neighbors for help if you need it, and don’t forget to pick up your copy of the Pumpkin Hollow Gazette whenever you need the local news!
A final side note before we get into seasonal updates --- the Pumpkin Hollow Gazette wishes to proudly welcome Mettaton to our writing staff! We hope that you enjoy his first contributions to our paper. Additionally, we wish to congratulate Melanie King and Phil Connors for their Outstanding Press Award, presented to them by Town Hall after the weather disaster that occurred in August. They deserve it! The remaining two writers, Yorick Aberdeen and Timothy Stoker, could not be more proud of our incredible colleagues.
Now, on to the news! Happy Fall, Pumpkin Hollow!
AUTUMN WEATHER REPORT
By Phil Connors
The views around Leeds Estate are gorgeous this time of year!
It's time for a change, folks, and you'll be happy to know that this one's a lot more gradual than last month! Summer's on her way out and it's Autumn's turn to move in. Start putting out your jackets and add a layer to your blankets. Early in the season we'll start seeing a rise in brisk, windy days, and more frequent light rains, but a lot less thunderstorms. As the season goes on the temperatures will keep dropping and we'll even start to see some morning mist, and even later, morning frost. It's a beautiful sight; just don't use it to decorate your cakes.
Not everyone is going to be all prepped for the weather, however. Clean-up from the last month's mayhem is still ongoing, and there's plenty to do. The farms need help cleaning up their fields and tending their animals, deliveries need to be made, and just about everyone needs repairs to their house and a brand new wardrobe. Check in at Town Hall--or just on your neighbors--for some guidance on where to get started.
A NAME SO NICE, YOU SAY IT THRICE (ACTUALLY, PLEASE DON'T)
By Timothy Stoker
As part of a recent string of incidents involving what appear to be beloved seasonal intellectual properties in some worlds, we’ve got some unexpected visitors out in Fall’s Promise Cemetery! A number of remarkably-tangible interdimensional dead (well, deader than us, anyway) have set up a wonderfully weird oddities fair on the cemetery grounds, where they appear to be trapped. The fair includes unusual scientific specimens, darkly unique art pieces, allegedly cursed objects, fortune telling, and chilling performances by talented spectral visitors. It serves as a properly spooky complement to the activities of Pumpkinfest.
However, fair-goers should be warned that there is a scam artist among the crowd. Reports of an individual persuading live residents to speak his name three times in a row have been flooding the constabulary, indicating that this unusual incantation allows this particular ghost to escape the cemetery. From there, he will drag his generous benefactor and potentially several other people along for his nonsense, which allegedly may include (but is not limited to) petty crime, destructive party behavior, wingmanning for unwelcome flirting, and somewhat sub-par stand-up comedy routines. The perpetrator, who constables have dubbed “BJ” so as not to accidentally unleash him by saying his full name, should be avoided at all costs. Unless the above sounds like a fun way to spend a Friday night. The Pumpkin Hollow Gazette would never deliberately encourage unhealthy or illegal behavior, but we are also not your mother. Who are we to tell you how to live your life?
All that said, though, the Pumpkin Hollow Board of Safety and the Department of Supernatural Affairs both have a great deal of concern regarding what this outbreak of fourth-wall-breaking dimension-hoppers could mean. “BJ” is not the only such example we’ve seen around--- offworld residents originating from more modern time periods have recognized at least a half-dozen iconic characters from Halloween classics just traipsing around the island. Port Authority has stated they have no record of any of these individuals arriving by ferry--- so where are they coming from? It seems only time will tell. We can only hope that this situation will not continue to escalate. But it probably will, knowing this place.
INEXPLICABLE HAUNTED HOUSE COMMITS PETTY CRIME
By Melanie King
Signs have already been placed on the lawn to dissuade entry.
If you've seen a new house on your street that wasn't there the last time you looked, don't worry, you're not going crazy—at least, not for that reason. All across town, from Downtown to Northwest Hollow and even as far as the Bluffs, a mysterious, rickety old house has been appearing in places it has no right to be and stealing objects it has no right to steal. Any stray belonging that crosses its boundary line is forfeit. Hats, balls, kites, stray shoes—if you can drop it, it'll be gone the second you so much as blink, leaving no trace except the slam of the shutting door.
Attempting to retrieve these items is not advised. Reports suggest that the house itself is alive and dangerous, its very structure and fittings possessed by some sort of spirit or energy that animates the building, attempting to trap and kill those who dare to step onto its porch. So maybe consider whether getting back that hat is really worth the risk—and, well, if you decide you really can't live without it, who am I to stop you? Just do us a favour and report back what you see on the inside if you chance it.
WARNING TO PROSPECTIVE FORESTERS: DON'T LOOK UP!
By Yorick Aberdeen
Best not.
As the leaves change colors in our own Lockwood Forest, many of our townsfolk may be inclined to take a trek into the woods for a myriad of reasons: mushroom-hunting, fruit-picking, or even just lovely strolls through the freshly-fallen leaves. However, Town Hall urges residents to take extreme caution with their ventures into Lockwood Forest, due to an unseen threat that prowls through the thickets.
Our reporters have only been given scarce information about the findings in the woods, but so far, we have come to understand that something in the forest is that something is hunting those who are alone and disorienting groups into separating through hallucinations and "flashbacks." Bodies of those captured are hoisted into the trees, in such a way that seems to hope to be discovered by some poor passerby. Those who have returned to tell the tale struggle to describe what killed them, but have said that they recall it being quite large, bearing hooves, strange hands, and massive antlers. (Ms. Leeds was approached for comment, and gladly quelled any rumors of potential involvement.)
Most troubling yet is that bodies are discovered in their passing moments, but sometimes well after death. Experts at Town Hall urge anyone who has the feeling of being watched to leave the forests as quickly as possible. If you or a loved one has seen something similar to what we've described, please alert the constabulary to submit a report of any sightings while the solving of this mystery is underway.
APPLES, PUMPKINS, AND POTLUCKS - OH MY!
By Mettaton
Doesn't get much better than this!
It's the most wonderful time of year, darling readers! (Or so we've been told.) The smell of fall is in the air, the leaves are turning, and the nights are coming along more quickly but that doesn't mean we need to stop celebrating and having fun!
Among the many activities at the Pumpkin Festival, you can partake in Apple and Pumpkin Picking at the local orchard and pumpkin patch! Pick your fruit — which come in all sorts of fun shapes and sizes — and show us what you make!
Which brings us to the most important part of gathering all of those pumpkins and apples! A Community Potluck! Bring by your dishes and your recipes to share and swap with everyone!
GIANT WATERMELON REMOVED FROM TOWN SQUARE BY FLASH FLOODING
By Timothy Stoker
Welp. There it goes.
Coming to you just a bit late after the weather kerfuffle back in August--- the giant watermelon, which seemed to never rot and replenish itself overnight, that had been taking up a substantial amount of space in town square throughout the summer has at last been removed. As much as this reporter hoped to see it defeated by us banding together and eating the blasted thing once and for all, it seems this fate is not to be.
During the flash flooding which occurred toward the end of August, fast-moving waters rolled the building-sized watermelon down the streets of town, causing incredibly sticky property damage and scattering stray fruit everywhere. It then tumbled down to the beach, where it drifted out to sea. There it remains, floating aimlessly in the water surrounding the island where it is enjoyed by seagulls as a social gathering space. No one has been able to figure out what to do about it, so for the time being, it will serve as a humorous welcome wagon for any incoming residents. If anyone has thoughts on what can be done about Watermelon Island, please contact Mayor Poe's office with tips.
Thank you for reading!
Pumpkinfest!
Pumpkin Hollow’s premiere holiday! In celebration of the harvest of the crop that gave this town its name, this seasonal fair technically is only supposed to take place in October, but whatever, time is soup and fairs are fun! Here are all the activities available for the month(s):- Pumpkin Carving - Carve a Jack-o-Lantern outside Greymare Library, then place your work of veggie art along the library steps, or take it home! Maybe you and your neighbor can discuss designs.
- Wood Cutting Contests - Test your strength, speed, and skill in this race to chop up a stump faster than your opponent. The only prize is bragging rights and a fun little ribbon, but the firewood is donated to a family in need!
- Local Music - Dance the night away to local favorites and offworld acts alike, or volunteer to play for the crowd yourself. Additionally, mixed in with the other acts is yet another group of interdimensional visitors who didn’t show up by Ferry. Sometimes, towards the end of the night, you may find that the Sanderson Sisters take the stage to put a spell on you--- will you overcome the bewitching boogie, or dance ‘till you die? Employ teamwork, clever tricks, and dice rolls to decide. There’s no specific value to hit with dice rolls, so you can just use your best judgement and do whatever is fun.
- Smiling Jack’s Haunted Comedy Club - Those who have been around for a while may recall Smiling Jack, the subject of a Pumpkin Hollow legend who became a tangible menace two Halloweens ago. He has since been reduced to bottled pumpkin guts with a talking Jack-o-Lantern face, but has somehow managed to open a comedy club. Grab a hard apple cider and enjoy the macabre and hilarious comedy stylings of Smiling Jack himself, as well as a few other interdimensional visitors such as Elvira, Svengoolie, Wolfman Mac, and the like! Or volunteer to tell a few jokes, yourself. This particular crowd likes their humor a little dark. ‘Tis the season! (Also, if you’re interested in the context behind Smiling Jack, check out our first Halloween meme for Dahlia’s rendition of his origin story, located in Further Details under “Ghost Stories.” Mind the content warnings!)
- Food and Drinks - Of course, what festival is complete without street food? Roasted corn on the cob, caramel apples, pumpkin kebabs, and more will be available! Feel free to consider this part of your grocery budget or food vouchers, meaning there’s no in-game currency cost for enjoying the food. There’s also plenty of drinks to enjoy---- beer, wine, cider (alcoholic and non-alcoholic), hot cocoa, and a Marrow Isle recreation of the famous pumpkin spice latte!
- And more! - Feel free to just come up with other fairgrounds activities. Just make sure they stay setting-appropriate!
Rebuilding Efforts
The major plot event from August caused a great deal of property damage around Pumpkin Hollow. Tornados, flood water, and extreme temperatures hit rapid fire, and many homes, businesses, and municipal buildings were impacted, as well as crops from farms. It’s all hands on deck to try and get things patched up before the next thing that goes spooky and terribly wrong in Pumpkin Hollow--- the town needs your help!Extant players are welcome to create toplevels directing helpful characters to their damaged homes, but there are also plenty of public spaces and NPC homes to help out with. Your help means a lot!
Also, we like to present new arrivals with opportunities to make a little extra pocket change to get them started. For the months that this TDM runs (September, October, and November) any new character that participates in a rebuild thread during the month they apply can get an extra 300 Brass when they turn in their first AC, provided the thread reaches bonus length as described on our Activity Check rules. This is only applicable for the AC taking place in the same month one apps in, can be applied to new characters apped in by extant players, and threads can occur between two new characters or one new character and one extant character. (The extant character does not earn the bonus.) This bonus can only be used once.
Example, for clarity: you TDM a new character in September and reach a thread length of 10 comments by the end of the month, then you app in said character by the end of September. When you go to turn in September AC, which will be that character's first, notate that you are eligible to claim an extra 300B on your AC post. You may not claim this bonus for the same character in October or November. You may not claim this bonus if you app in a later month, unless you achieve 10 tags specifically in the month in which you apped. You may not claim this bonus on a character that was already a game member, as this bonus is specifically an incentive for new characters. Please ask in the threads below if you have questions!
BJ and Associates
In Fall’s Promise Cemetery, whose entrance is located on the path down toward the beach from town, one will find the colorful dead from the iconic “waiting room scene” from Beetlejuice hosting an oddities fair! For those unfamiliar, oddities fairs are sort of a modern (and more tasteful) “freak circus”. They showcase unusual taxidermy and other unorthodox works of art, medical curiosities, unusual antiques and curios, jewelry and other items made of teeth and bone, extreme body modification, and performances of uncommon talents such as contortion, fire-eating, sword swallowing, or other circus arts. They’re a lot of fun, but not for the faint of heart, especially when hosted by visibly dead and mangled people! Be generous with content warnings! Attendees will walk away with a free copy of the Handbook for the Recently Deceased as a souvenir.Additionally, the titular Ghost with the Most from the aforementioned Halloween classic is our scam artist. As mentioned, he will be attempting to get people to say his name three times in a row, which will allow him to escape the cemetery and live it up for the next 6 hours--- and you’re tied to him, so you have to go along! Drag your friends into it, get busted getting up to no good, wingman for BJ or have him wingman for you (badly). Eat, drink, and be scary!
Beetlejuice himself is a prop NPC, meaning that his actual interaction with the thread can be handwaved or written by one or both players in a given thread. Players with Beetlejuice journals should feel free to play him if they’d like--- even if there’s already another one kicking around. Multiple versions (film, cartoon, musical) are all fine. It’s just for fun, after all! Happy Halloween!
Haunted House
An unfamiliar house has popped up in Pumpkin Hollow! Perhaps it seems familiar--- this is another visitor from a Halloween favorite!Per the film, the Monster House is possessed by an angry human spirit who is not particularly fond of anyone, but especially not children. The spirit can manipulate the house itself, the surrounding trees, and the lawn as if they were its own body, with the door functioning as a mouth, the main hall as a throat, and the furnace as a heart. It will make attempts to lure in unwitting humans to devour them by stealing their things.
Those consumed by the Monster House, interestingly, do not die--- at least, not right away. They will be held in the basement. When the house is asleep (and it does indeed sleep), you may be able to explore a bit more if you’re careful and quiet. And of course, if you get desperate, there is always the hanging lamp in the front hall --- just make sure to note content warnings for emetophobia!
Additionally, the house is quite lonely without its original tenant, who was very dear to it. Perhaps some friendly and patient folks can give this restless spirit some closure and company, and console it about its dramatic canon end. Who knows? Maybe by the end of this TDM’s run, the house will be a source of harmless mischief rather than genuine terror. Just don’t vandalize it!
Creature in the Woods
[CW: gore, cults, unreality, hypnosis, mind control. Also, googling the monster will result in images featuring body horror and headlessness.]
Last on our lineup of visitors from spooky modern IPs is Moder, the jötunn hiding a cult in the woods of Northern Sweden in the film “The Ritual.”For those who have not seen the film, but plan to, the spoiler-free version of what you need to know is this: the creature in the woods is massive, and old, and shockingly stealthy for its size. It cannot leave the woods, but while you are in its domain, it only wants two things from you--- despair and blood. Moder can access your memories, especially traumatic ones, and can cause hallucinations where these memories haunt you and cause you to act in ways that are out of touch with reality and difficult for those around you to understand. Then, when you are feeling your lowest, it will mangle your body and use it to decorate the trees of Lockwood Forest. Why do the bodies stay, you might ask? Aren’t they meant to disappear? The answer is yes, they do disappear.
But only if they aren’t being watched.
For those familiar (or who simply don’t mind the spoilers), a refresher course.
Moder loves to be worshipped. To its previous cult members, it was seen as a loving god who could offer eternal life and protection for those who didn’t mind a bit of human sacrifice. The same remains true, though immortality isn’t exactly as valuable here as it was back home. So what can Moder offer you here?
How about the inability to die in the first place?
For those who are marked by a set of puncture wounds on the chest as one of Moder’s chosen, if they are willing to worship their new god and aid in the sacrifice of their neighbors, they will become completely unkillable until Moder’s departure at the end of November. For players who are members, this will come especially in handy for upcoming events… but are you willing to accept the price? Especially when your victims will come back the following day?
Those who reject being chosen by Moder will, of course, face its wrath. It won’t kill you, because it still wants to try and force you to worship, but it will torment you relentlessly with nightmares, unreality, hallucinations, and non-lethal violence. You are left with only two choices--- submit, or escape.
U-Pick Fall Crops & Potlucks
Let’s end on a lighter note, shall we?Farms around Pumpkin Hollow are open for self-pick apples and pumpkins! Both food-pumpkins and carving-pumpkins are available, as well as apples of all sorts. Be sure to stop by Starr Orchard for some of their delicious “ghost apples”--- bright white apples (with some pink freckling) that are extra sweet and crisp. Great for baking! And be sure to leave some berries for the Mr. Mime who tends the trees. Other varieties of apples will also be available throughout Northwest Hollow.
Which is great, because the grounds outside the Temple of Sacred Roots will be hosting fall treat potlucks every weekend throughout autumn! Bring whatever you make with your pumpkins and apples, along with any other fall delights, out for a delicious sampler. Excellent for cultural exchanges and making new friends!
no subject
"Then I go find another fuckin' bar, probably."
No, this isn't healthy and South's under no illusion that it is. Healthy people don't leave their brother to die and spend months alone on the run, drinking themself to sleep whenever she could afford the booze. (Too used to sleeping with the sound of someone else breathing nearby. Too aware of the silence if her head is clear.)
She rolls her eyes when Carolina sits down, but doesn't bother trying to push her off the chair—though she sure fucking thinks about it. "Eight fucking months. Seriously? Ugh, I don't wanna be stuck in the fucking dark ages for months. That's fucking bullshit. And also it's been like two fucking years since you went over the damn cliff and our lives all went to fucking shit."
She orders another drink.
no subject
Carolina frowns. That's going to be a problem. A bad one, if it's left to fester for too long. For god's sake, don't these bartenders know when to call it? It's barely past noon, and they're just letting her go on like this.
"Trust me, I get it. Hasn't exactly been a picnic here." She leans coolly back in her chair, eyes tacked to the woman seated next to her, the way you might find yourself tasked with making sure a bomb doesn't explode. "You get used to it."
Sort of. These days, tolerance has whittled itself down to the ugly marrows of survival. Agent South doesn't need to hear that right now.
"Yeah, that too." Long drop. Longer crawl to safety. Crimson tracks in pale blue snow and the feeling of dying. "Two years and eight months, then. It's been a real picnic." A beat. "Where have you been? After everything, I mean."
After you killed your brother. Or so Wash says.
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"Where the fuck else?" South snorts, dismissive and derisive. She snatches the fresh glass as soon as it's in her reach. "Stuck on the same shitty planet with the rest of the assholes unfortunate enough to survive the damn crash. Idiot fucking brother made me leave then spent two years refuse to give up his damn lightbulb and y'know? Funnily enough, when you're on the run you have a hard time making enough money for a flight out."
Not that North likely would've gone for a flight out if they could afford it. He had his own interests. Like York, somewhere else on the planet in hiding with Delta. Like whatever he thought they could meaningfully do about the Project being fucked like every fucking military program is fucked.
She drinks.
no subject
"Did he say why he wouldn't give Theta up?" She has a few educated guesses. Emotional attachment, for one. You can't play caretaker to what is essentially a kid and not feel some level of responsibility for its safety. Still, good to keep her talking.
South drinks. The air is astringent, made thick by crowd's breath. While she's busy necking whatever she can get her hands on, Carolina leans on the flattop bar and puts in an order for that week's stew.
"North's here too. Did you know that?" A beat, considering. She'll find out eventually. Better it not be a total surprise, for both their sakes; "And CT."
no subject
South tenses up like she's taken a bullet to the gut, not just heard a name. Her grip on her glass turns white-knuckle and her teeth grind so hard it hurts.
"Well isn't that just fucking great. It's me, my ex-boss, my asshole fucking brother, and the fucking traitor. Fucking fantastic. My lucky fucking day."
Can't have it easy for even a little while, can she. No, South Dakota's life has never once been easy and it never will be.
Another swig. She hasn't even noticed Carolina ordering food.
"I knew North was here," she grumbles. "And he had a lot of reasons for not giving up the stupid AI. Most of them bullshit. Blah blah it's a person blah blah he's just a kid blah blah. It's a fucking pile of code but you'd think he'd birthed the thing out his own ass."
no subject
"You don't have to talk to her, you know. But don't go looking for a fight either. She's been through hell and back here. A different kind of hell." The warning is a mild one. She doesn't elaborate any more than that. "If you want a fight, we'll go out in the woods and I can watch you try and stand up straight."
Weren't they all traitors in the end, anyway? Running from the nasty parent-hand, side-stepping responsibility, evading the law. The only one stupid enough to stay had been Wash, and even then...
A shot between the eyes— and a dozen unnecessary explosions.
None of us are innocent.
"They aren't like FILSS, South. Someone did birth them. Theta was probably just as scared of being picked off as any of us. I know mine were."
The way they shrunk backward in her skull, desperate to avoid the hand clapped around her throat— she'll never forget it. Nor will she forget the spine-tear that came afterward; the hot wash of blood under her collar.
no subject
South makes a derisive snort. "Look at little miss fucking noble. What, you scared I'm gonna fucking kill her like you did?"
It's a low blow. She has no intention of taking it back. South is more than capable of believing two things at once, after all, and one of those things is this: CT is a traitorous bitch for abandoning
herthem all like that, and Carolina's the Director's obedient little pet for going along with the mission to kill her anyway.(Like she has any room to talk. Like she wasn't working for Command until she got what she wanted. Like she didn't turn on North and Wash.)
...she doesn't want to talk about Theta anymore. Doesn't want to remember him screaming in the last seconds of North's life. She drinks again instead.
no subject
Oof. Carolina catches the inside of her cheek between her teeth, working the tissue for a minute. If she's learned anything from her time as Commanding Officer, specifically over South, it's not to let these barbs pierce any deeper than the surface. She's got one thing wrong; she isn't noble. Not in the fucking slightest.
"No, I'm not."
South empties another glass, turns her head away from Theta as a subject. That's fine. She takes the hint, pockets it— and just in time, her food comes. A bowl of venison and vegetable stew is placed in front of her. Rich steam billows upwards. She nudges the bowl with two fingers until its sat squarely under South's chin.
"I was starving when I first got here."
no subject
South looks at the bowl like it's going to bite her, and Carolina much the same. A part of her thinks about shoving it away, maybe even hard enough to send it all over Carolina for her trouble, but the thing is: she is starving. Hasn't been taking the best care of herself even aside from the money it keeps to stay fed. Sure didn't think to eat today.
So, she huffs, but she picks up the spoon anyway. "I don't need fucking babying. I'm fucking older than you."
She stuffs a spoonful into her mouth.
"And I don't need you telling me what to do. Even if she was fucking right, if CT gave a single shit about any of us she woulda fucking told us not just— cut and fucking run."
no subject
"Really? Huh. I always forget."
Is that a jab? Maybe.
She's relieved, at least, to see her eat something. The soup's hearty enough, maybe there's a chance it'll cut through the gallons of booze she insists on bloating herself with— save her the trouble of alcohol poisoning. No one wants to die in their first week here. Like getting booted from basics after falling in the mud one too many times. And if she does, she'll learn for herself what death means. A whole lot of nothing— which raises another potential issue. One that starts with D and ends in -struction.
"I know. You two were close, I get that. She was doing what she thought was right, but that doesn't make it any less like a slap in the face to you. To any of us. We were all making bad decisions, in the end." She glances at her nail beds. "I felt the same way— same anger— when York found me. I felt like he was choosing their side over me. If he had just told me about Texas— well, I probably wouldn't have changed my mind, but at least it would all be out in the open."
no subject
The way South chews on the bits of meat and vegetable you'd think they'd offended her personally. Better that than give into the urge to try and punch Carolina again, to probably similar results as the first attempt.
Acknowledging what she says about CT would be acknowledging that she did, in fact, consider them close friends, and has been wondering for years now just how wrong she was. (Always felt like CT was the only one on the team that liked her more than North. Always felt like she was one of the only ones in the program that liked her more than North.) So she doesn't acknowledge it. She just grunts.
"Well. We've got that much in fucking common," she grumbles. "North didn't tell me a damn fucking thing until he'd already shot me and carried me off the damn ship."
no subject
"What's with that?" She asks, genuine. "They just assume they'll handle it themselves and we'll catch up with them later? That we'd skip right along without asking any questions? York made a lot of stupid assumptions about me. I'm sure you feel that way about North, too. Truth is, we get angry and they think we're being irrational. Like they can talk us down without actually listening to anything we have to say."
Man it feels good to say this out loud.
"Maybe they're right sometimes. Maybe we are difficult." She knows she is. She's very, very aware how awfully and unbearably stubborn she'd been in that goddamn ship, and afterward. "But they're wrong, too."
A beat.
"Where'd he get you?"
no subject
On one hand, the last thing she really wants to do right now is agree with Carolina on literally anything. On the other, it does feel good to hear someone else put the feeling in words after so long of being stuck stewing in it, after two years of on and off arguments that went nowhere worthwhile.
"It's always been like this. He's the reasonable one. The one that knows better. Why wouldn't I just fucking listen to him? Ugh." She rolls her eyes, stuffs another spoonful of stew into her mouth and doesn't finish chewing before she talks again. "Fucking bullshit."
A pause, then she taps her left knee. "Only a graze. He's a damn good fucking shot, dear brother of mine. But it bled like a bitch and I couldn't exactly fucking walk on it right away, so getting carried out like a fucking child it was, apparently."
no subject
Carolina peers below the lip of the bar, at the spot under South's finger. She can imagine the scar— swatch of pink, like a paint smear— under her cheap linens.
"Mm. Worse places to be shot, I guess." No shit. Add a couple explosions, then it evens out. "Worse ways to escape a burning ship. At least you didn't get thrown off a cliff, right?" She might have nudged her, if it weren't so like jabbing a bear with a utility knife.
"Where'd you two go, after, anyway? I know you fled, obviously. I'm just curious where." If they're going to talk post Project Freelancer collapse, she might as well be transparent. "I reenlisted with the UNSC for a while. Closest way I could think of to stay informed."
Implication; I survived. I know more than you think.
no subject
"Had just as much fuckin' choice in it," she grumbles, an argument she's never truly let go of with North but that she also never expects to win. If he'd just asked... well, if he'd asked she'd probably have gone with him anyway, wouldn't she? That's the thing. The same thing that should make it easier to forgive and yet actually just makes it piss her off more.
The implications don't reach her drunk brain immediately. She just answers: "Fuckin'— nowhere and everywhere. We bounced around. Planet's full of other military facilities, company towns, old bases and shit. Sometimes we had enough credits for a motel or something but most of the time we were sleeping rough. Tryna get as far from groundside HQ as we could."
Freelancer owned a good chunk of the planet's surface for all its sim bases and other facilities, but the UNSC took their fair share. There were places to g—
"—wait what the fuck do you mean you fucking reenlisted? You fucking died!"
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South's tale of stranded woe and crashing in weird places isn't too different from her own. She'd kept her head low, made her false documents and found the first UNSC base she could. Took on a new name, McCallister, and sighed relief when no one batted an eye. It's funny, in retrospect, how willingly she'd stepped into her shadow again, and how little she actually thought about it at the time. Priorities.
Carolina huffs the loose first syllable of a laugh. It isn't funny. "No, South. I had my grappling hook. I stuck the ice and used it to break up the fall. I wasn't sure if anyone would come looking for me, so I hid out in a cave for a day or two, then moved on."
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South blinks at her in pure, drunken disbelief for a solid three seconds before she snaps out of it. "You were alive the whole fucking— son of a fucking bitch of fucking course you fucking were, number fucking one overachieving even on dodging fucking dying—"
She drags her hands over her face and through her hair, then slumps with elbows either side of her bowl and just stares into it for a moment.
Sure, why not. You hear a woman got thrown off a cliff by the oversized asshole who immediately started hunting every AI-assigned agent in the program, with a near-zero survivor count, then you should totally assume she was fine and saved herself. Apparently. Fucking jesus christ.
"...everyone thought you were a fucking goner. You weren't even on the Recovery list."
Yeah that's saying more than she means to, actually, but she doesn't realise it.
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Yeah, she won't rub it in or anything. Being disappointed by the one group of people you thought could present as a unified front, who then failed hilariously and miserably to do so— thrown from a cliff by one of your best friends— abandoned by your father (is anyone surprised?), who could have looked for you, to at the very least confirm you were dead, but who decided his only daughter actually wasn't worth the effort— really does some interesting things to a person's resolve.
See, she had set out from the very beginning to overachieve the hell out of all this. And would you look at that, top of the leaderboard for bad boss and worse friend. What contributed to her glittering score? Killing a teammate, neglecting a friend, becoming dictator to a band of colorful idiots, dying and leaving poor Epsilon at the mercy of whoever the fuck picked him up, if anyone did. If he isn't still perched on her dead body like some mourning bird.
South bows over her bowl like she's going to throw up or something. Carolina can share that sentiment, at least. But— wait.
She squints.
"How did you know who was on the Recovery list?"
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Ah, shit.
She fucking said that, didn't she? With her mouth. Out loud. Fuuuuuuck's sake, stupid fucking—
"Okay I know I'm fucking stupid for saying that shit but you're also fucking stupid if you can't figure that out."
Can't save it? Be a bitch.
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"Right. You were part of Recovery," she says tersely. "I just didn't anticipate you, of all people, running back to Command so soon. What was that about? Your deep concern for ensuring the safety of the Program's assets? Looking for a place to sleep? Or something else? How'd you talk North into going back? He didn't trust the Director."
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South rolls her eyes so aggressively it actually kind of hurts. "He didn't go back. And they contacted me."
She grabs the glass she didn't finish and chugs most of what's left, setting it down with a sharp thunk and grabbing her spoon again.
"Got an encrypted transmission on the radios one night. They wanted me to find North and bring him in, told me they'd give me an AI if I did it. So I said sure, and didn't tell 'em North was sleeping five feet away."
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"And you didn't tell North this?" No, of course not. Why would she, if it didn't benefit her? "You let him believe whatever lie you told him, strung him along, all to get your own AI? Did you seriously believe they'd give you one?"
After what happened to Maine? To the Project itself? No. The Director was in no position to go doling out AI— and definitely not to South. Too risky. All of it, too risky.
"So," she says, flat. "You were a double agent. Like CT."
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South slams her first down hard against the bar and imagines it's Carolina's nose.
"Shut the fuck up—I didn't fucking abandon anyone!" Not until the end, at least. Not until she'd already stuck by North for two damn years, covering for him and trying to get him to see fucking sense. "I did what I had to fucking do, alright?! Long as I was with North, I could tell them he was somewhere else entirely and keep them off our damn tail! And no, I didn't really fucking believe they'd give me cockshit, that's why the second I got the chance I stole one and fucking left."
It was all a selfish choice, in the end, if one that for a while was meant to help keep North alive. By the end, by the time she'd already dug the hole too deep and made that final mistake... well, taking Delta was just the principle of the thing.
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Guests turn their heads toward the noise, largely indifferent. South's fork jumps a little with the force. It's a miracle Carolina's lap isn't covered in the remnants of what she hasn't eaten.
She crosses her arms, tells herself enough and forcibly untangles her nerves. She won't argue with a drunk woman. She won't jab any harder than she has to. However deep in denial she is, South knows what she did— and she wouldn't be getting day wasted if she didn't feel something about it. Still. Facts are facts. And the fact is, she's no better than CT, by South's own standards.
"Wash said it was a set-up. Frankly, I think he has his own problems and I didn't entirely believe him."
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The white hot flash of rage fades back to a flickering light in the back of her eyes and she huffs, slumping against the bar once more.
"Oh he has his own fuckin' problems, alright, but no. He was right about that much." Not that it was Command that told her to shoot him, but she'd had the thought in her head from the moment they told her the plan and, well... he made it so easy. "Trusting me was his fucking mistake."
Maybe it was North's mistake too.
"Not like he didn't get back at me. Fucking asshole. Delta sure didn't have to work hard to get him to shoot me in the fucking face."
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Wrap?
wrap!