Rip's Clips Volume 1 Part 2

INT. The studio – Night

Ripley’s hair dye job is now complete. Though, the result is barely different from your preconceived notion.

                                                Ripley

            I bet you NEVER expected to see anything further from the Sisterly Bonding story.

The door in the distance opens suddenly. CLAIRE walks into the room.

                                                Claire

            Ripley, what the hell are you doing here?

                                                Ripley

            Oh crud, I take it all back, sis! I only did this to garner some attention.

Claire walks up, notices the pile of floppy disks and lets out an audible sigh.

                                                Claire

            Now I know why Emily asked me to look into what happened to her ‘secret’ archive. Just who exactly are you doing this for?

                                                Ripley

            Someone MUST know that we exist. I don’t like being such a joke. I did what I thought you or mom would do.

“Claire, have you ever really thought about the fact animals live before becoming food?” Ripley was clearly in the starting phase of serious hunger pangs when this ‘philosophical discussion’ started. “It’s not as though I feel morally guilty when I eat meat. Every species eats something beneath them… That is just a rule of nature.” She must have been too tired to reference that one video game Emily liked in her youth. That phrase made my ‘caring about animals’ phase incredibly short-lived. I would want to discuss the tiers of consumption only for Emily to scream about ‘RULES OF NATURE’. Most kids have to put up with the circle of life and other lessons from their parents, right? Why did I end up with such a femanon of a mother? “How do you think skeletons communicate? Is it a collective consciousness or are they somehow maintaining an element of touch? There is some degree of kinesthesia in play for them to control their movements.” She was talking about an ancient meme…

            “Ripley, I don’t think you should be focusing on food or skeletons.” I decided to test if my spine had healed enough to allow for basic movement. That was a terrible idea. “FUCKING HELL” Returning to my original position minimized the pain to manageable levels. “My current predicament is a sign that you need to reevaluate your graveyard theory.”

            “See? You made a reference! Now say that you aren’t going to let it get to you because you’re just going to creep!”

            “No, I won’t. How long has it been since our rip-offs were here?”

            “That was twenty minutes ago. Didn’t you hear me mention that I wanted to distract us? You didn’t respond, which is why I began to ponder the biophysical implications of skeleton consciousness. They must have knocked you out while leaving me as the control.” I heard her coming towards me. “Strange, you don’t have any signs indicating syringe penetration.”

            “I’m incredibly ‘blackout’ prone in my current state. No one would need to go out of their way to knock me out.” It seemed as though I was trying to explain the concept of pain to child. Then she started to poke my knees for what I could only guess was a reflex test. “What are you doing down there, Ripley?” I could feel the involuntary movements even in this state. Then again, perhaps I’m retroactively inserting the sensation.

            “I’m glad to see you were able to feel that. Now let Dr. Ripley tend to your injuries!” She was using a drama student’s perception of a British accent by this point. “I never knew you were this developed, sis.” Was she hitting on me? I’ll leave out the rest because it was embarrassing for all involved. Ripley has forgotten this incident and I have no intention of reminding her.

            The cell door opened again not long after when a third person was thrown into our cell. I would later figure out that this was the ‘infamous mother’ the knockoffs had mentioned. Ripley shifted her attention to our new cellmate once the guards handling the prisoner transfer left. “Do you speak English?” She asked innocently enough. Our new company didn’t respond. “Please respond.” Ripley continued this comedy of errors for several minutes.

            “Ripley, we’re in an undisclosed location somewhere near Hong Kong without your translator. Do you really think asking the exact same question over and over will make much difference? I would attempt to mediate if I could focus on anything other than my ‘pressing’ issue. We shouldn’t pry until they decide to open up.”

            “I guess you’re right, Claire…” Ripley paused for a moment. “She went to sleep. Was I really that much of a nuisance?”

            I was tempted to say yes. However, what her brief observation seemed to suggest was some form of deep mediation. Alternately, they were trying to escape the deluge of repeated inquires thanks to botched first contact. That was when things became incredibly bizarre. We couldn’t sense the energy flux at first because it was ever so subtle. It wasn’t until the manifestation of the guest in a spiritual form that I realized what was happening. Ripley freaked out almost immediately at the sight of something paranormal. “Relax, Ripley.” I wanted her to be quiet instead of continuously shrieking. “Chances are high that they’re projecting their essence or something like that.” It was a shot in the dark. “Make sure to ask the question about their language only once this time.” 

            “I see that you’ve done your research, Claire Rees.” This came from a different voice. Strangely, it sounded to be perfectly fluent in English. “Am I correct in guessing that you are aware of the dependencies in channeling?”

            “Yeah, I read about it in one of my ‘non-American versions of history’ courses in college. The legend states that channeling relies on the energies from those involved to maintain a projection.” In reality, I had briefly skimmed an article simply to add a footnote to one of my papers.

    “My kind once relied on entire villages to achieve half of the clarity that I now have. Shapeshifters have such potential energy to use. Not to worry, my drain is only temporary.”

            “Claire, are you hearing this?” Ripley asked.

            “She can clearly hear us.”

            “What should we call you, oh wise one?” Ripley can be such a kiss ass. I could tell she wanted to use the word ‘senpai’. 

            “You have done me a great favor through merely allowing me to manifest properly. Solitary confinement removes one’s ability to commune with other auras. My daughters took every precaution to repress me until their major slip-up today.” She was confirmed for the mother at this point. “Underestimating the energy of a shapeshifter is the ultimate form of arrogance.”

            “As much as I love compliments, this is all meaningless until my back heals.” The chances of her being removed once the guards realized the error seemed very high. She had only been brought in to ‘heal me’. Unnecessarily revealing information to her would create a major loose end.

INT. The studio – Night

Ripley and Claire sit on the couch. Ripley downs the contents of a flask.

                                                Claire

            We can honestly say the setup is better than Iron Fist Season 1.

                                                Ripley

            OH WOW! YOU MADE A MODERN POP CULTURE REFERENCE! LET’S ALL LAUGH AT THE GODDESS OF COMEDY. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. YOU DESERVE AN EMMY FOR THAT. WOW! BUGGED LIFE MECHANICS!

                                                Claire

            You really can’t handle liquor, Ripley.

                                                Ripley

            Who said this was liquor? I never said that it was! Do you want to fight? I’m ready to go right now.

Ripley falls forward and manages to knock herself out in the process. Claire pulls her back onto the couch.

                                                Claire

            I’m not sure how to turn this off. Alright, I’ll tell you all a personal story to end the show.

            “Are you sure that there aren’t going to be any experiments today, Emily?” The rather androgynous young man attempted to protest Emily’s refusal is the most intimidating way he could. Alas, the end result was more adorable than convincing. His hands slammed against Emily’s desk with the intensity of a teddy bear falling to the ground. “There’s always something that can be changed.”

            “I already have a lot of data to analyze, test subject ‘Hoffi’. How can I be expected to harness the central element of transformation if I try to rush things?” Emily was glad that her little ‘jellyfish’ was so eager to keep on testing, at least until the recent ‘obsession’ with pushing the physical limits. “I’ll call you when I’m ready for the next series of tests, ok?” She spun her chair around dismissively. “My new secretary will see you out in the meantime. Take the next few days off to work on a tan.” A rather bookish secretary, her brunette hair in a bun, entered on cue to escort Hoffi off of the premises. “Shannon, would you please show ‘Hoffi’ to the lobby.”

            Before Hoffi could retort, Shannon had seemingly overpowered him completely through a simple grab of the right forearm. This was unlike any of the ‘restraint’ tests Emily had performed with electrical, magnetic or even dimension-bending mechanisms. Emily mockingly waved as Hoffi was dragged away in the most humiliating fashion possible. Every door seemed to slam with an even louder ‘thud’ until the ultimate conclusion in the public waiting room. Shannon let go of Hoffi, allowing him to regain his composure, and turned back towards the office.

            “Wait a minute!” Hoffi tried to muster up the confidence to stand up for himself. “Emily didn’t tell you to handle me roughly! She said it herself that I’m very delicate.” Now was his big chance: he could fake an injury that would require immediate attention. “You could have hurt my…” He failed to sell the illusion of his right leg being injured. “Oww! It hurts so much! I think that Emily will need to fix me right away.”

            Shannon snickered at the sight of Hoffi’s desperation. There were no other ‘official tests’ scheduled for the day, which meant there would be no witnesses for the game she was about to play. “I’m terribly sorry for that mistake on my part. Allow me to carry you to the on-site nursing station.” Defying all expectations, Shannon effortlessly moved Hoffi to a secluded nursing station far from public view. Now she would have her chance for fun.  “There is one ‘conditioning’ test that Ms. Rees would like to have done today. There was no candidate who fit the bill prior to our little misunderstanding. Take a seat on the examination table as I prepare.” Shannon setting Hoffi down on the table directly left him with little choice. “Now close your eyes…” Shannon giggled a bit when she saw how readily ‘obedient’ the test subject really was. “Only open your eyes again when you hear the sound of my voice again.”  

            Shannon let off a silent sigh at the first opportunity to drop the act. She removed her glasses and undid the hairbun to ‘break’ the illusion of being a dork. Pink began to develop from her roots in conjunction to a strange yellow, almost gold, color spread suddenly over her skin. ‘Shannon’ knew that Emily had probably mentioned ‘Claire’ to Hoffi before, yet they really hadn’t had a chance to meet. Shannon’s outfit altered accordingly to accommodate Claire’s drastically different proportions and tastes. Hoffi wouldn’t remember any of this, so why not toy with him? Claire checked over herself in the nearby mirror to make sure that everything was in place prior to her introduction. “You may open your eyes now…” She did her best to maintain the ‘nerdy voice’ without degrading herself.

            “Did you trans…” Hoffi silently screamed at the sight of what was standing in place of Emily’s secretary. “Who are you? How did you get here?” The panic gave way to morbid curiosity. “Wait… Are you related to Alice?” He seemed to perk up at the prospect.

            “You’re close enough to get one of those ‘you tried’ stickers.” Claire was almost insulted at the prospect of Emily not disclosing the full nature of the temporal experiments to her loyal pet. “I take it that Emily hasn’t told you anything about her daughter.”

            “Oh! She has! She’s an arrogant, self-absorbed…”

            Claire cut Hoffi off early. “If that is the case, what do you think she might do if I were to tell her your opinion?”

            “She’d probably want to… I don’t want to think about it.”

            “Don’t worry, Hoffi. All I want to do is make sure you stay out of my mother’s hair until she’s done ‘grading’ your work. This process will be more ‘draining’ than it will be painful.”

            “Draining?”

            Claire gestured to the black-rimmed glasses from her earlier charade. “Emily whipped these up in an effort to keep me completely under her watchful eye. However, as you can see, they are a failure on someone like me. Their effectiveness on someone like you has yet to be tested.” Not wanting to bother with a fight, Claire forced the glasses onto Hoffi with little resistance. “See? That wasn’t so hard. It is as though they were made specifically for you. Why don’t you take a look for yourself?”

            Hoffi slowly rose from the table to take a look at his reflection in the mirror. The temporary unease came from the feeling of balancing something new on his face rather than the typical accommodation difficulties with new glasses. Any chance for an emotion response seemed…suppressed. Hoffi’s smile and optimism gave way to a readily apparent expression of total detachment and disinterest. “What did you do to me?” He asked in a near mono-tone.

            “You were so eager for another test just a few minutes ago, Hoffi. Do you think the glasses are to blame for your sudden shift in temperament?” Claire took a seat to watch the prototype in action. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your pain?”

            “Pain is an artificial construct that is drilled into people to keep a superstitious health care system afloat.” Hoffi responded involuntarily. His hands bolted to cover up his mouth in an effort to stop the changes from progressing.

            “It is strange to think that someone who sounds as unhappy as you would wear such extravagant colors, Hoffi. One would expect you to have earth tones instead of your current, how should I put it, pearlescent choices.” Claire could see her little puppet quiver in fear. “Let’s start with removing that incredibly ‘loud’ scarf, shall we?” Hoffi’s indifference allowed Claire to remove the scarf without sparking even the slightest emotional response. “That’s much better, isn’t it? A reserved girl like you doesn’t want to attract any unnecessary attention.”

            Dull shades of brown began to overtake Hoffi’s hair as it adjusted into a generic ‘flowing’ style. “There is a part of you that yearns to remain flashy, isn’t there?” Hoffi’s jacket became a dark green and his ‘skirt’ was now jet black. “Suppress that side because what is the point when we’re all going to die eventually?” Rapid blinking masked the transformation of Hoffi’s eye color from a pastel to dull black.  “Do you really think the name ‘Hoffi’ fits a pragmatist like you?”

            “No. It’s one of those names that companies assign to characters meant to generate customer loyalty and devotion without ever once bringing the realities of business into light. You can see it on a box of cereal that you have while watching the news report on that company being held accountable for multiple human rights violations.” A moment’s pause gave the girl a chance to think of a new name. “Daria will suffice.”

EXT. A dilapidated hangar – Dawn

The show took the duration of the whole night.

INT. The studio – Morning

Ripley is snoring on the couch in her pajamas while Claire is going through a technical manual trying to figure out how to turn off the show.

                                                Claire

            To end broadcast, simply ‘end’ it… What does that mean?

                                                Ripley

            What happened last night… Why am I here? How did I end up in this outfit?

                                                Claire

            You drank yourself silly while showing incomplete stories. It would appear that my ‘hunch’ about you taking the information was correct. Now do me a favor and end this little show.

                                                Ripley

            Sis, I don’t want to die.

                                                Claire

            I know you don’t. We’ll be back, but this appearance needs to end.

                                                Ripley

            Will ‘that’ Ripley even be me? I’m entirely replaceable and you know it.

                                                Claire

            If Ashley can come back from total obscurity, then the same is more than possible for you. It isn’t our fault that the main transformation audience is a bunch of betas with Yellow Fever and persecution complexes. Besides, unlike the ‘ONE SENTENCE POST’ leeches, we actually transform.

                                                Ripley

            On that bombshell, it is time to end.