𓆩 🗡 𓆪 — goose
that's who
you are
you are
The lights flicker on and you find yourself standing inside a vintage-looking subway car.
It both feels and sounds like it's in motion, but the only thing that can be seen outside the windows is pitch black darkness.
It also feels like there's somebody else in the car with you. There are three small cases in the front, middle, and back of the car that hold a small vial.

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So I get protecting them, but I don't need that.
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It's not about protecting you, either.
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Then what is it about? What're ya tryin' to prove?
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I care about you. I don't want to see you hurt.
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I know ya care, kid. You made that crystal clear.
But I ain't like you guys. I don't think, anyway.
. . .
What if ya wear a blindfold?
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You're a human being who deserves to be cared for and not feel like he's good enough to be sacrificed.
[ he's clearly stuck on this. he ain't accepting a blindfold. ]
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Ain't very human-like, is it? Plus throw in a few dozen murders, and it ain't a hard choice. But I'll humor ya--what would you even sacrifice?
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[ He frowns. ]
I don't think it makes you less human - just. You weren't always given the right treatment or just do what's expected of you? I don't -
Not you. Not your life. I wouldn't sacrifice that.
[ that's not an answer. ]
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Now focus. Ya didn't actually answer the question.
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[ repeated still, quiet. ]
You'll just have to trust me on what I have to sacrifice.
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Hell no. Tell me. I've seen plenty of your visions and you're ready to give your arm and leg and more at the drop of a hat!
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If your a horrible criminal and a murderer who should be able to be sacrificed, then it's kind of hypocritical of you to see a dangerous abominations who shouldn't exist also shouldn't be sacrificable.
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That ain't how a monster thinks.
Now fess up. What are you trying to sacrifice.
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[ He's making his point there!!! Because the rest Goose isn't wrong on.
He shakes his head. ]
An item.
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[sighs!! cocks his head]
Hah? What do ya have on ya?
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A few things that I put way too much stock into for making me "me".
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Kid, I swear if you make me play a guessing game. . .
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I will promise that it is not a memory, an emotion, or something that would alter my identity. I promised I wouldn't throw myself away like that if I can help it.
And you wouldn't appreciate it if I did either, right?
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[crosses his arms]
Or I won't talk to ya for a whole week.
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[ like. taps his forehead. ]
I only think you'd stop me on it because your first choice is self-sacrifice and I know you'd rather not something happen to me.
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Shit.
[CAN'T TURN OFF HIS BRAIN!!!]
I choice self sacrifice cuz it means less to me than it does to you. But everything means something to you.
If I don't think it'll like, cause ya some kinda brain break, I won't fight ya on it. So fucking tell me.
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And you'll looking at it.
[ He gestures to himself and then pauses - ]
[ Pulls out the chain necklace he keeps under his clothes - a moon pendant, an old coin, a ring (it's the memory ring from the car accident), and a iridescent feather on it. Somehow it works.
From his pocket, he pulls out a journal. Then shifts so the glint of a ring with a star on it can be shown from the way he holds it. ]
Let's call it "self-expression". The things I always carry with me and wear, because I feel like if I don't I won't remember who I am.
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[a tilt of his head, wary]
It's more than just jewelry. You won't start acting weird if they keep it? You don't know if they'll really give it back.
We know we'll come back though.
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[ Pointed, ]
The one performance when the Producer took me away - She made me sacrifice my memories and identity in exchange for ensuring the next room couldn't hurt you guys. Except, she left me with just enough to kind of remember you and who I was around you guys. But I wasn't me, it was all just pretend.
This stuff doesn't make me. Maybe memories don't either, because you've said I couldn't change if I tried.
What matters more is the people in my life.
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