Duplicity Game Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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duplicitymemes2018-09-12 11:51 am
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2018-09-12 11:51 am
Entry tags:
TDM #1
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It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit. Yet, solace is found in the lies we tell each other, comforted by the peace of knowing that we're not alone in our depravity, and once on this path, sin itself becomes the lesser of two evils masked in a cloud of normalcy. This is how Duplicity has functioned since the beginning. The divide of power and social standing is overt in that Dominants influence the decisions made both publicly and privately while Submissives cater to the rules presented to them. It is the way of Duplicity to assign random designations at birth with no leeway in altering what has been given. Climate in the Up is far stricter than that of the Down; violating outlined personas for a Dominant or Submissive while in full view of others is punished by degree of infraction. In the Down, many tend to turn a blind eye to these sorts of offenses. To counteract the discovery of the Deceit Gene – a natural "negative" response to all stimuli – the L.I.E.S. program was founded. The program had been designed to introduce new subjects to the current environment and test for the Deceit Gene through immersion in Duplicity's standing society. Sexual impulses and encounters increase the chances of detecting the gene within these individuals. Participants are typically released from L.I.E.S. after a year; however, results have remained unsatisfactory and testing still continues. |
 After stepping through the door and participating in orientation, LIERS are assembled together in the Up for a tour of Duplicity in its entirety. Seats are in pairs and randomly assigned to Dominants and Submissives alike. Traveling from Fiddler's Square, the train journeys through various parts of the Up, showcasing society and examples of lifestyle. Along the way, frequent stops are made; a variety of passengers can be seen exiting and entering the doors. A Dominant with a kneeling Submissive takes a seat near the front of the train at one stop. A small group of Submissives board and sit closer to the LIERS at another, all seemingly content in their roles. As the tour continues through the Up, the train passes close to the Market and White Wall Bridge and zips by North Park before heading into the Down and bypassing Red Wall Bridge and South Park. The train makes a "final" stop at Riddler's Square, where inhabitants of the Down are instructed to return to their temporary housing. Those who live in the Up are permitted to stay on the train and revisit the same locations while returning. |
 While the societal climate between Dominants and Submissives remains somewhat neutral throughout Duplicity, there has been the occasional whisper of defiance and call for equality. Yet, demonstrations and visible proof of this unhappiness spreads faster by word of mouth on a day exactly when you need it most. Welcome to Autonomy, a "traveling" nightclub that is never in the same place twice. People wanting to attend only learn of its lucrative location and password hours before it opens for business. Tonight, I choose the third door will get you inside and into the temporary freedom club Autonomy has to offer. In this circle, there are no assigned designations and no consequences for taking a role that isn't the one given by society. So, a Dominant may become the Submissive they've always wanted to be—or vice versa. Dominants and Submissives alike are able to mingle without repercussion and be themselves. Food, drinks, and private areas for more intimate – or if your preference is sexual – encounters are provided. Donations are accepted at any point during the night to further Autonomy's attempts of spreading the fulfillment that comes from being untitled. On the night you choose to visit, Autonomy is holding a random lottery for temporary connections. When entering, you have the choice of submitting your name into this drawing to be paired with someone else in the club regardless of designation. A short while later, a message will pop up on your device with the name and information of your partner, and whether or not you choose to meet them is purely at your discretion. Having more than one connection isn't completely unusual either. |
 Gratification of being a successful Dominant or Submissive isn't necessarily simple. Learning curves are to be made, and mistakes will happen. Led by a Dominant and Submissive couple – Miriam and Victoria, who have been paired for twenty-two years – a monthly meeting for unattached Dominants and Submissives is held in the conference room of Morning Wood motel in the Down. The meeting starts a few minutes after nine and has no designated end time. The couple introduce themselves and explain the purpose of the meeting: learn the proper method for a new kink and possibly find your perfect partner. The space is intimate and well-stocked with refreshments. To begin, Victoria, while blindfolded, balances on her hands and knees with her back perfectly level. Her partner, when ready, places various items on the level surface–a full cup, a plate. The Submissive is meant to hold the items until the Dominant believes she's reached her limit. The exercise is one of trust and understanding. The demonstration is a short one, followed by Miriam removing the blindfold and soothing her Submissive. The words are whispered low and with care, clearly a method that is specific to this couple. The process is concluded with the pair handing out workups, videos, and answering questions. Anyone wishing to practice Purposeful Submission can do so in the open room with a random volunteer, aided by the couple, or can find someone to take to one of the rented rooms. Sex may follow any scene but is not necessarily included. Experimenting with unattached Dominants and Submissives allows for new relationships to form. |
Please read carefully. On each Test Drive Meme, there will be a section noting character roles based on birthdays; these will vary each TDM. On an IC level, character will still have gone through the doors but assignments OOCly are still randomized. When applying, there is a section of the application that denotes whether the character chose "left" or "right". When participating on the TDM, there will be a third option. Players may link either a top level or a thread (five or more comments from their character) from the TDM and title the link as "Door Pass". This means that the player is choosing to take the designation that they were randomly assigned on the TDM, rather than taking the designation of a door. If the player decides to select a door rather than use the pass, then they are trying their luck; they may get the same designation they had on the TDM or the opposite. Once the application is submitted, players can't change their choice. To assign roles to characters for this TDM, use the following guide. For characters with a birthday falling in the months of January to June, their designation will be Dominant. For characters with a birthday falling in the months of July to December, their designation will be Submissive. For characters with an unknown birthday, their designation will be Dominant. Arrival into Duplicity has not been used as a prompt as it is a rather large part of introducing the game and will be saved for the first in-game log. But feel free to thread it on the TDM. Also, any locations throughout Duplicity are available for TDM prompts as well! Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have fun!! |
table it
[ The thing is, he's been skirting this whole scene since it started. Scoping out the submissives, mostly, not because he plans on snatching one up and building trust or having sex, but because of the ever-looming deadline of a contract. No choice is still a choice in a place where they throw somebody at you against your will in a few months regardless.
So he scopes, and he spots, and from some skeptical corner of the room just out of Jack's line of sight he balks. Edges forth like a panther or a god damn creep depending on your preferred metaphor, close enough that he can get within earshot of the exchange this guy has with some poor line-throated bastard just trying to make a connection. Two strikes, although maybe both of them are unfair.
Regardless, it leaves him feeling exactly no measure of guilt when Jack slips out of the view of most of the room toward the shadowy and secluded lobby, where Barnes is quick to snatch him back by the collar of his shirt and thrust him back into a nearby wall. Personal space is a myth for a minute, eradicated and replaced by wild eyes and a disbelievingly muttered: ]
What the hell.
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[ jack's hardly any kind of winter soldier, but he is a war veteran, and the first thing he did in getting into Duplicity was finding at least a knife to have on his person. something about being arrested by your own father makes one paranoid. it's out by the time he hits the wall, but it may as well not matter, because what the eff even is this fuckery going on right now? the second he catches a look at bucky's face, all other thoughts dissipate, leaving him gaping, murmuring in detached disbelief. ]
Disturbing... [ he'd thought this place was bizarre enough when he came in being told the society runs on a D/S system. now, there's some homeless looking person wearing his face, but old, and this is one acid trip too far for what Jack's willing to take on today. ] And not something I'm narcissistic enough to be into.
[ twisting his body to the side, and down, jack tries the slip the hand at the back of his neck, angling out enough that the arm holding onto the switchblade he'd pulled from his pocket can swipe out, trying to slice across his creepy, old, homeless twin's stomach. get the ever-loving fuck off his person, you fucking psycho. ]
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[ Yeah, about that. Bucky might be staring too hard to really appreciate the narrative spilling out of Jack's mouth, but no amount of weird can really train out suped up reflexes and muscle memory. That switchblade swipes and a metal hand shoots down on it quick to knock that shit away, maybe with enough force to swat it clean from Jack's hand if he angles it right. It's an absent, mindless motion that he doesn't really think about enough for it to be deliberate.
Add metal-armed to that list of adjectives you're building in your head, apparently, pal.
It doesn't matter, Jack earns more or less what he's looking for with that failed attempt at stabbing. Bucky backs off a solid foot or two - less from fear and more out of a desire to put some distance between the two of them so he can boggle appropriately without the risk of a punctured lung. Safe to assume a guy wearing his face might have another weapon or two stashed about his person, if habits coincide with facial symmetry. ]
Jesus fucking Christ-
[ He mutters, and it's more to himself than to Jack really. A little one-way dialogue isn't the right way to parse through this, so instead he follows it up with: ]
Who the hell are you?
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but, at least, homeless mccreeper the cyborg wonder has given jack some space to breathe, the prince shuffling himself to the side, back to the wall, trying to expand this distance a little further (and maybe make it back to that knife that was launched across the lobby). ]
New here, and acting in self-defense. High tech city like this - I wonder what kind of CCTV systems they have going.
[ which is Jack saying, you fucked up, dude, and if you touch him again, this goes to court and you lose hard. there's a room full of witnesses just a few steps away, and while he may have felt fine handling just some street thug jumping him, there's clearly nothing so normal as that going on with this guy. he keeps his name to himself, because some part of Jack is still terrified of some force of his father's creeping out of the woodwork, dragging him back to Shiloh, kicking and screaming. He doesn't need his name - if he doesn't know it by now, it won't mean anything to him. ] Walk away now, we'll pretend this never happened.
[ and take your freaky face-stealing cyborg bullshit with you. ]
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I'm not mugging you.
[ Incredulous as all hell, just pure and utter disbelief. Go ahead, pick up the knife. Barnes gestures toward in the body-language equivalent of be my guest. Based on that rookie stabbing he's gonna assume he's no Winter Soldier Lite™, so call him cocky but he's not really all that concerned with whether Jack's got a weapon or not.
Bigger picture, for the love of Christ. ]
Pretend this never h- what- are you kidding me?
[ Sure, yeah, pretend like there's not some guy with his teeth running around doing a bad job at knifing people. Sounds great. Wonder if they've got the same fingerprints - on one hand, anyway. ]
What the hell is this place.
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Literally just said I'm new here. I have no idea. [ Keep up, bucky, he's trying to be culturally sensitive or something. jack assumes there's a good, not freaking ridiculous, reason some dude is wearing his face and it probably has something to do with the fancy future shit and the level of technology that allows them to portal people in from where the hell ever. ] Is this supposed to be normal?
[ he literally has no clue. what other explanation is there for a stranger to be identical to him, save for about ten years worth of aging? none. at all. in any way. would he like to pretend this didn't happen and continue on his merry way? absolutely. so long as he never runs into this dude again. ]
I'm guessing, now, maybe not, but you haven't exactly been an open book on the topic between trying to paint the wall with my face, and 'what the hell' repeated in stereo. [ it's been rude. use your big boy words, not your transformer arm. ]
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God almighty, this smug prick. He does not, in fact, use his words so much as level Jack with a baleful and unflinching look.
For about five or ten minutes there he'd started building ideas in his head about puzzling it out. Parsing through a conversation to figure out if they're the same person under different circumstances, plucked from different universes where things went down some different way like some cheap dime-store scifi novel he used to pore over when he could afford them. Something to be learned, maybe, about the nature of this place because surely to god an extra copy might make up some kind of key, some kind of insight.
But after a grand total of maybe 47 seconds, he's pretty much scrapped that idea and flown into active dislike.
Cycling mechanically and pragmatically through the useful pieces of intel he's picked up so far:
-New here
-Not a winter soldier, therefore no possible timeline relation (or alternate enough to render it irrelevant)
-Not him, not intelligent enough or simply not practical enough to care about their similarities and investigate
-No insights to provide on the nature of this reality
-No knowledge on the security systems
-Not even remotely likable
Eyes flicker over Jack's form one last time like he's searching, scrutinizing, looking for anything even slightly redeemable about him, this situation, or the possibilities he'd optimistically hoped came along with it. He finds nothing, and his features shift into something that clearly read frustrated dismissal. A disappointment.
Jaw squaring and thumping out a rhythm made of unfettered ire, he turns to wordlessly stalk out those front doors himself. ]
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[ mostly, jack wants the let him leave. go find a bottle and drink until he doesn't remember this and start again tomorrow as if this never happened. he almost convinces himself it's the best way to go from this point, too. but then, bucky wouldn't have his scrawnier young doppelganger trotting after him down the street a few moments later. which he does, now. ]
Hey. Hey, jackass. [ he's still mad about the wall thing, can you tell? he jogs along until he's a couple steps behind bucky, rattling off questions. ] So, no kind of explanation, just going to show up, throw me around, shout some, and piss off? That's all you really came to do?
[ whatever attention that maybe gets him apparently doesn't suffice, because jack picks up the pace to cover the last few steps, jogging in front of him and then stopping directly in his path. clearly he's either forgotten this man has an arm that could probably crush his skull, or has just decided he has the balls enough not to care. ]
Who the hell I am is Jack, and I don't know why you look like me, but... old. [ that's honestly the most confusing part - the age. it cuts out a lot of simpler things, like clones, or twins, or something even remotely feasible. ] I had a twin sister at home, but unless your name is Michelle and you've gone through some very dramatic changes since last I saw you, I doubt that has anything to do with this. My mother was Rose and my father was Silas. The country is Gilboa, the city is Shiloh. Any kind of bells ringing?
[ he's giving up the specifics, yes, and he's telling himself anyone Silas would've sent would've at least known what he freaking looks like, so Jack's hoping this is safe. Or that this practically mute fool won't sell him out to the first person who comes looking for him. despite how strong his urge towards escapism is, this is a little too intense for what he thinks a blackout and a hangover can erase. so here we go. ] Do you have a name or would you like me to keep assigning them?
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What he will say is chasing after him marks one of those negative lines off his mental list, so good on Jack for making the worlds tiniest comeback. Not enough to get him to stop striding off, though, with long and purposeful steps - right up until Jack plants him himself like a tree. He could go around, but hell, seems a shame to discourage persistence.
It's worth it, a little, when Jack spills out almost a million details at once, and Barnes can't help but mutter: ]
If I'd have known all I had to do was be withholding I would've just ignored you from the jump.
[ No twin sister. No Rose, no Silas, no Gilboa- Christ, is he making that one up? Jack may or may not be able to read by the gradually increasing arch in his eyebrow that no, in fact not a single god damn bell is ringing. And he can't resist, he really can't, to be an asshole right back when Jack asks his first genuine question: ]
It's me, your sister. Times are tough, gotta quit smoking.
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bucky's muttering earns himself an eye roll, and jack think how very appropriate it is that his newest time traveling twin is a smartass. must be something with the genetic code. ]
When you start a conversation with wall-checking a person, it sabotages the rapport a little.
[ yes, jack is a douche bag, but he's basically claiming the age old and sacred defense of 'you started it'. there's a good chance he would've been more free with his information had it not started out as assault. so there's a little PR tip for bucky to file away in his people skills database the next time his cyborg self needs to unravel a conundrum.
but apparently bucky's sass protocols are running at top speed now, and the boy's got jokes. oh, okay, so we're doing it that way. that's fine, jack can roll with it. there's a mild arch of his brows, and the flattest expression the world has ever seen. ]
I have to tell you, Michelle, I don't think David's going to be into it. At least shave the beard, he doesn't strike me as a mustache ride man. [ congratulations, bucky, your name is now michelle for the entirety of the rest of jack's stay here, he hopes you're committed to it. ]
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They've gotten off on the wrong foot, to say the least. Sadly he isn't... doing much to fix that, either, nor does he particularly feel the need. Gone are the days when Sergeant Barnes was a social and charismatic creature, broken down by the Winter Soldier and replaced with some curmudgeon who only now sees fit to flatly introduce himself as: ]
Bucky.
[ Because he can already tell Michelle is gonna get really old, really quick. As fun as this little back and forth has been he's not keen on having it in front of a hotel. Furtive eyes flicker past Jack down the street, and then shoot a glance over his shoulder behind him.
Paranoid, evidently. ]
If you're actually planning on saying something useful, maybe we could take this a couple miles away from the sex party.
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What was happening in there was so far from either sex or parties. [ it was weird human furniture. it seemed more like performance art, which is not sexy in the least. the motel, however, being 'morning wood', does seem like it'd be host to more actual sex parties. ] The least they could've done was spike the free coffee.
[ the free coffee that jack lost somewhere between bucky introducing him to the wall and this point, he realizes, as he pats at his coat pockets. everything else seems to be in order, though (knife in place, flask still settled in the inner coat pocket (just because he complained that they didn't spike the coffee, doesn't mean he didn't)). ]
I take it this is the first instance you're seeing of this. Think it's safe to ask one of the city representatives, or try the comms they gave us? [ tugging out the network device he was handed, jack raises it to give an indicating shake towards bucky, before taking to scrolling through the posts thus far, searching for anything relating to their particular issue. arrogant brat he may be, but he understands reconnaissance and information gathering.
as for safe, well, he can't think of a reason why the city would be surprised by their existence, or that they're roaming the city freely, but the natural paranoia in him wants to be wary. they know nothing about this place, really, aside from what the representatives wanted them to know. ]
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Jack goes for his phone, and Barnes can't help the instinct that flares in him. A metal hand shoots out, but it's gentle by the time it reaches the place Jack's fingers curl around his device. Carefully, pointedly, he pushes both things down. ]
Yeah, not so much.
[ He mutters darkly, a scowl on his face. ]
You wanna talk to the people that brought us here, leave me out of it.
[ Because he doesn't trust them as far as he can throw them- which is a really bad analogy, he can probably through them pretty fucking far. The point is so long as there's a re-education center up and operational that fucks with your mind and reprograms you in any way whatsoever? He'll be pointedly avoiding anyone in league with that mess. No government, no cops, no officials.
No. ]
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I'm not talking, I'm listening. [ and reading, and watching. just because he's not putting entries in himself doesn't mean the others arrived with him haven't started up with the social networking and jabbering. a lot can be learned from just listening to confused people ramble. ] And you can stop touching me any day now.
[ it's a Thing, okay? he doesn't even hug his own mother back half the time, unsolicited touching of his person just bugs him. ( the longer version: a lot of touching he never wanted to do happens in his life, jack deals with it by deciding he'd chosen it, so the stuff that comes without his bidding is just irritated, keep your old guy mitts to yourself, homie (not that jack would be openly admitting to any of this)). it's only spoken in a mild voice, though, and he continues pacing along at bucky's side, eyes on the phone in his hand as he scrolls through the latest posts, absorbing. ]
If there's others with the same issues we have, I'd like to know. With luck, they may be less paranoid than us.
[ us, because the point of asking if it was safe to talk about it on the network was the fact he had doubts. if he thought it was, he wouldn't have asked at all, just done it. you're not his real mom, bucky barnes. but, if they can find others experiencing the same bizarre DNA twin thing, maybe they can do some investigative stalking. hopefully, they aren't the only special case here. that leads to a lot more possibilities jack would rather not think of. ]
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The hand disappears, but his eyes stayed narrowed at the phone in Jack's hand.
Less paranoid than us. Less paranoid than us.
Okay. Fine. ]
Brooklyn.
[ He says finally, slowly, like it's an uncomfortable admission. ]
Three sisters. World War Two, army national guard. Hydra. Anything?
[ He doubts it. The only Gilboa he knows is from the god damn bible and he averts anything remotely close to religeon after his stomping catholic father's enormous boots crushed his mother's spirits. ]
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at the list bucky gives, through, Jack frowns down at the device, eventually looking upwards, down the street they're pacing along, digging through his memory for any of those phrases. ]
Three, Christ, you poor forsaken soul. [ one twin sister was difficult enough, and Michelle was fairly mild as far as girls go. Three must have been hell. Anyway - ] Army, is about the only one, but it was the Gilboan Royal Armed Forces - Royal Guard, Infantry or King's Own. I assume when you say 'hydra', you don't mean the Greek myth.
[ maybe he does, who knows? even World War II has him frowning, because what happened to World War I? how severely skewed are their realities from one another? and how is it their DNA alone that links them between it? ]
Birthmarks. Twins don't typically share them. If our genetic code is identical, you should have one right here. [ he points on himself, somewhere on the lower half of his stomach, to the side, beneath his navel. he's not saying strip, he just wants to know if it matches. ]
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It is what it is. They're long since dead. ]
Army national guard, 107th infantry.
[ He comments inscrutably, tonelessly, because hey. Look. They're relating. Fuck those air force guys, right?
A hand comes up absently to touch himself over the shirt at the birthmark, lips parting. Strange how sharing eyes, lips, nose, and jawline don't feel quite as bizarre as sharing a god damn birthmark. The implications that follow it- the idea that their genetic makeup is identical rather than just similar? Up until now, he could have almost dismissed it all as a cosmic coincidence, some kind of joke, a happenstance of breeding and the concept that there can only be so many unique faces in the universe.
Under his breath, he murmurs a softly awed: ]
Jesus.
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127th infantry. [ similar number, and jack's tempted to be weirded out by that too, but it isn't close enough to mean anything, really. ] Moved to the city, promotion to Major. It gets complicated from there.
[ patricide, regicide, bloody coup, exile. at least, he assumes this is exile. by 'complicated', it's clear jack means 'I don't want to talk about it'. by bucky's reaction, jack's guessing they have the same mark, and that's... that's actually pretty terrifying, for what it means. breathing out a slow sigh, his pace stutters, wanting to lean back against a wall and try to keep calm, but he remembers they need to get somewhere safe and secluded. ]
Genetic replicas, then. Our finger prints and retinas are probably the same as well. [ all those wonders of biology that differentiate even the most similar individuals, identical twins and so on and so forth. new two people are exactly the same, no two people but them, apparently. so this doesn't speak of blood relation by any stretch - it speaks of cloning. ] That's not something that happens naturally. Not within the same... universe, anyway.
[ so, maybe this crap they're spouting about multiverse is real, but even still, out of all the billions and trillions of possibilities that they'd both end up here, how? ]
Do you know any doctors or biologists you trust? [ jack knows no one here, and anyone he'd meet here would be subject to his distrust. their only hope would be if Bucky had someone to look into this. try to find some kind of scientific trail, figure out how the hell this happened or why? it seems utterly impossible, but where else do they start? ] Even just scientists?
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Happy to follow that lead.
His lips twitch in clear discomfort as he considers the implication of a matching set of fingerprints, a matching set of retinas. He can't for the life of him imagine having a security system requiring either of those two things, but simply the fact that it would come with a gaping hole if he did crosses his mind. The idea of a crime scene with his DNA all over it- well, you know what? Being suspected of murder isn't exactly a new feeling, so maybe he shouldn't let that get to him so much.
Either way, it's unsettling. ]
Trust? Sure. Here?
[ Not so much. Shuri or anyone from her team in Wakanda would have a god damn field day analyzing this. She could probably break it down into an exact explanation and pinpoint their universal divergences using hair follicles or something. ]
My doctor's on the other side of the god damn galaxy right now, and she's not pickin' up for house calls.
[ Public transportation looms closer, the train that circles this place is up ahead. Presumably, since neither of them has lines down their necks, they're given starter rooms in relative proximity to one another. It seems like a safe bet to hedge them that way. ]
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Fantastic.
[ jack thinks while they walk, probably nearly shoulder checking a passerby or two, as his eyes watch the air in front of him, but they're unfocused, not really taking in any information. he's thinking of the city representatives that brought them in, if they might have files, or medical records, where they might hold them, how they might get to them. ]
If you don't mind me asking, [ jack starts, careful, and this is the most polite he's been thus far, ] How did the arm happen?
[ because he knows asking a war veteran about an amputation can be opening a can of worms for them, and if there's one thing jack respects, it's military service. but, it's less the injury he's concerned with, more the cyborg prosthetic he has. if it's genetic fuckery they're looking for, something that complex seems like it should be looked into.
jack hardly wants to face what it would mean that one or the other of them aren't... "real" isn't the correct word but, yeah. real. especially considering the age discrepancy would make it seem like jack was the second creation rather than the first. strange set of memories to instill in a clone, though, with all the details of his less functional parts. to what point? he can't really know until he understands what exactly they are. ]
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Or maybe it's because he's got a metal fucking arm, people tend to steer clear of that.
Eyes flicker over Jack impassively at the question. He's not offended, when he doesn't cover it he gets looks. The replacement they gave him here isn't as advanced as the one Hydra had supplied, but it's still well beyond base level back home. It's functional. It's still just as much of a sore thumb, too. ]
Prisoner of war. [ He says tonelessly, like he's detached. Like he's pointing out that the sky is blue. ] Fell off a train behind enemy lines. They chopped it the rest of the way off.
[ In a nutshell, to make a very long story very short. A flight of stairs leads them down beneath the sidewalk like the subways of New York, and it's there that heads them, one step at a time.
Justing by the fact that Jack has both his arms, he's incorrectly assuming he can't relate. ]
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he's right in that Jack can't really relate. he'd been a prisoner of war for a short time, yes, but he hadn't been tortured. not in the way bucky was, not nearly. ]
Shit. [ is all he says eventually. you can't really say 'i'm sorry' to that, because it doesn't change anything, and sympathy feels too much like pity to a soldier, at least, in jack's experience. the simple 'shit' acts as acknowledgement that it was fucked up, as well as the fact bucky's a hardass for surviving it. a moment of pause is what settles as that sinks in, out of respect, before he pries again. ] So they made the arm.
Did they do anything else to you? Experiments or anything, I don't know, strange?
[ jack hardly knows anything about what the enemy bucky fought had access to in technology and science, and they clearly didn't come from the same universe, but even across a multiverse, it still seems so mindblowing and bizarre that a perfect clone of another, completely separate, individual would exist. ]
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Doesn't seem all that put-upon by them, either. Far more distant from it all than someone ought to be, probably. Stoic and almost vacant. ]
They made an arm. Not this one. Better.
[ But that one got blown off, and it's a hell of long (wholly unrelated) story.
Experiments, he says, and there's a telling period of silence that follows it wherein his face somehow doesn't twitch but still seems answer enough. ]
Yeah.
[ He says finally, with only the slightest shifting of his lips into a forced line. ]
If you're wondering whether or not they're behind this... I don't know. I don't see why they would. If they could make you, they wouldn't have left you like you are. You'd be stronger. Faster. Different.
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Sorry. [ he murmurs, seeing the reaction that came from Bucky, not for the fact it happened (we covered that reasoning) but for making him think on it again by asking. reliving those memories can't be fun for him, least of all when Jack's bringing it up for a dead end rather than a lead. ]
And why would I remember a completely different world than you? Why so specific of one?
[ He's not doubting that memories, or brainwashing, could happen if they have the technology to completely fabricate a human being, but more so what sense does that make? Why Gilboa, why David Shepherd, why his sexuality, and his sister, and his uncle? Why any of the minute details? ]
Why let us meet this easily, unless Duplicity was something no one saw coming?
[ yeah, this rationalization is making him feel much better. the less sense it makes that he's legitimately a fucking clone and his entire life is a lie, the better Jack's feeling. imagine that. at least, the less he feels like his mind's about to fall apart. ]
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He can, through context, understand the existential crisis Jack is probably feeling right now. The idea that if Bucky's older he must have been the original - sure, it makes sense he guesses. The stirrings of empathy and understanding take root, and he speaks for the first time to affirm Jack's rationalized stance. ]
It makes no strategic sense to falsify an entire irrelevant backstory. If you were some kind of artificially recreated construct they'd give you an agenda- a purpose. That, or they wouldn't give you anything at all, just enough hatred kill, and they'd leave out anything but that.
[ Like they tried to do to Bucky. To erase every single emotion from happiness to sadness and everything in between. The only thing a pawn needs is a mission and rage. If they made another version of him they'd have learned from their mistakes and they wouldn't have given it memories.
The words that come out of his mouth, while designed to make Jack feel better, somehow lack anything remotely resembling pity. He's all exhaustion and resignation when he tonelessly murmurs toward the floor: ]
If you're upset right now it means you're you.
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