[When they unplug Kitty, she's unconscious. The last pattern of brainwaves that her headjack recorded is still on the screen, spiky and lopsided, like nothing you'd ever want to see in your head.
Quartz's face is ashen; he thinks he must have done something wrong, but anyone who's ever heard an operator work knows that he did just fine. Objectively, it paid off; Kitty got in touch with someone out there, someone from the Zion Defense Grid, even though only Quartz could hear their conversation and he hasn't said much. He's pulling the spike out of her head now, stooping down to try and lift her. Scrawny and small himself, he'll need help.
Bullet's face has gone hard too. She's already regretting having let that girl go in. It doesn't matter what the Machines care or don't care about; she was too young, and Bullet cares. The short straw shouldn't have mattered.]
You all need to head back to your rooms, [Bullet says. Behind her, in the viewport, Olympus is still burning. The REAPER drones are drifting toward the cavern ceiling in an erratic but distinct pattern, termites waiting for their queen. From Xerxes' pilot seat, they're still getting choppy feed from the city. Distress calls. Fires spreading, mineshaft pressurization problems, people trapped with drones waiting just outside, some of them in emergency bunkers; others merely in their homes.] The Zion Defense Grid is gonna be on its way.
We're gonna sit tight, keep an ear to the ground, and be the first faces they see.
[Her crew doesn't disagree, but they wouldn't. You work together long enough, and you fall into that rank and file.]
Debate Team: Waiting For The ZDG
Quartz's face is ashen; he thinks he must have done something wrong, but anyone who's ever heard an operator work knows that he did just fine. Objectively, it paid off; Kitty got in touch with someone out there, someone from the Zion Defense Grid, even though only Quartz could hear their conversation and he hasn't said much. He's pulling the spike out of her head now, stooping down to try and lift her. Scrawny and small himself, he'll need help.
Bullet's face has gone hard too. She's already regretting having let that girl go in. It doesn't matter what the Machines care or don't care about; she was too young, and Bullet cares. The short straw shouldn't have mattered.]
You all need to head back to your rooms, [Bullet says. Behind her, in the viewport, Olympus is still burning. The REAPER drones are drifting toward the cavern ceiling in an erratic but distinct pattern, termites waiting for their queen. From Xerxes' pilot seat, they're still getting choppy feed from the city. Distress calls. Fires spreading, mineshaft pressurization problems, people trapped with drones waiting just outside, some of them in emergency bunkers; others merely in their homes.] The Zion Defense Grid is gonna be on its way.
We're gonna sit tight, keep an ear to the ground, and be the first faces they see.
[Her crew doesn't disagree, but they wouldn't. You work together long enough, and you fall into that rank and file.]