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Snowfall was a natural occurrence J had become well-adjusted to since she and her squad had inhabited Copper-9.
How couldn't it be? Snow was all she ever saw. Every day, the soft layer of frozen, suspicious substances that were most likely not water (you could tell by its strange, almost-purple-if-you-look-closely hue) covered the ground and fell relentlessly into her hair in miniscule white flakes - which wouldn't be an inconvenience to her if it didn't melt minutes later and leave her resembling some kind of drowned animal.
That only happened because the materials JCJenson used for their design still absorbed and held onto liquid like the "real deal" did.
(J would know all about that. It always took the Boss hours to get her hair dry.)
Safe to say it was infuriating and an utterly useless feature, but she would never question her company's choices.
Becoming so used to the snow's presence in her life led her to quickly grow annoyed by it.
(Like the storms that frequently targeted the Manor. Those always drove the Boss crazy - they'd hit at the worst times, always when she wanted to go out and do something, and lasted days afterwards. By the time they were over, she had forgotten completely about her original goal. Only difference between the two is that J could work through the snow.)
Yes, it could be useful. The thickness of it, often several inches in height compared to the actual ground beneath it, caused Workers to stumble and struggle to pull their feet out to run. Some just fell over and gave up.
It was like it wanted to help her out, throw her a bone - "Hey, J! Caught this Worker for you! Already trapped!" That was a part of the snow that she enjoyed. The way it was a better teammate than N or V could ever be. That and the fact it left very visible footprints for her to track.
(J felt a vague, blurry image come to mind - being dragged out of the mud, watching human footprints trail behind both her and her newfound savior as she's carried out of what was meant to be her grave. She's thinking a lot about the Boss. Strange.)
But in any other situation, it was an inconvenience to her. Got in her hair. Fell too hard and trapped her for an hour until it melted enough for her to escape. Rusted her wings up - she remembered the grueling process of cleaning herself afterwards all too well, and shuddered at the memory.
Sometimes J wished she could just install a gigantic heater and obliterate any trace of ice left on Copper-9.
Unfortunately, that was impossible. Or would just take way too long. She had a job to do, after all.
Besides, when perched up ontop of the Spire like now, wings spread wide to keep her balance, the snow almost looked...pretty, from afar. (For lack of a better word. J wanted to rip her throat out at the thought. She sounded like a toddler.)
Less obviously radioactive and more fantasy-like. It was so different tonight - the moonlight hit far off ice crystals in such a way where they shined like fallen stars, casting their reflections onto nearby pieces of jagged scrap metal that were haphazardly shoved into the ground and long since forgotten about. The snow almost seemed to change underneath her, shifting from its usual oil-stained gray color to something more vibrant. Fresh snow, of course. Still, it was just...different. And the stars were so much brighter than any other night she had spent lying awake, restless and unable to shut off her mind. The sky swirled with new color - dark, navy blues, to violets, to greens - It was something you'd see out of a movie. It felt unreal. So incredibly different from anything she had ever seen before. Beautiful. Alive.
(J remembered a similar feeling to what she felt now. From before. Tessa telling her about the most influential space missions. The human spirit and courage and bravery that drove them to create history. Being so far from home and yet being able to wave 'hello' to everybody that you could ever meet. It sparked the same sense of childlike wonder in her, experiencing something new, being there for something that you may never see again. She could recite the names of them, the ones Tessa mentioned to her, like lines of a play. Sputnik. Explorer. Apollo. Mankind's mission to create a better future for themselves, coming up with brand new technology that eventually destroyed them. J was one of their inventions. Did she feel bad for being created the way she was? Did she feel bad for being changed? It wasn't her fault. It wasn't. She had her own mission to carry out. It was just fate.)
It felt so bittersweet, for a reason J couldn't quite pinpoint. It was just an aching feeling in her chest, one that was unfamiliar to her.
She didn't realize she was crying until she began to shake, her core rattling in her chest.
Tessa James Elliott. Her breathing picked up, hitching slightly, and her chest tightened. Tessa.
She would've loved to see this. This beautiful, unfamiliar landscape. She was always so intrigued by the unknown, the unexplored - she wanted to be the first to discover something like this. And yet she couldn't. She couldn't, now, because she was gone. If their circumstances were different, if J had taken the time to help Tessa properly (a sudden pain shot through her skull - it physically hurt to think about her, sometimes), maybe she could send her a photo of it now. Maybe they would stay up late talking - ("Oh, you should've seen the toxic death storm tonight, it was great." "Yeah? Wait 'til you hear about what happened on Earth," or so she thought the conversation might go. It was oddly comforting to imagine, as selfish as it was.)
It's such an unfair thing, how her actions had consequences.
She'd call it karma, being able to see all of this without the one person she wants to witness it with her, but honestly, she wouldn't know which sin she committed she's being punished for. Because there were so many. She had done so many terrible things in her life. She felt guilty about very few of them, but what she did that led to all of this - what she did to Tessa - was one of them.
'If she were here, she wouldn't want to talk to you anyways,' a little voice that sounded a lot like her own chimed in the back of her head. 'Quit dreaming. She'd be so ashamed of you. The bitter, angry person you've become. She'd hate to see how you treat N and V, no matter if it's for their own good. She'd leave you in the dust.'
'Besides, not like she's here anyways. You don't have to change a thing.'
J quickly wiped her tears from her visor, dropping herself off of the side of the Spire and landing safely into the snow, having to take a minute to free her legs from its grip before she could move. She had work to do. She always had work to do, she didn't have time to slack off. N and V were still out hunting, and despite having paperwork to catch up on, she felt the need to blow off some steam. She needed to go hunt something too, get her mind off of all of this. Soon this ache in her chest would leave and she'd never have to feel it again. This was the last time she'd allow herself to think about any of it.
And yet she couldn't stop thinking about it. The tears picked up again and, for a rare moment, she wished she could go backwards in time, change some of her decisions. She had no reason to feel that way. Her life as it was, was perfectly fine. N and V were in line. She'd held the top kill count across Copper-9 for the past 3 years.
But maybe she could have done some of it differently.
God, she was starting to sound like N. Disgusting. She was just being irrational, that's what it was. She'd be better after a hunt.
J took a deep breath. Another. Shook her head, ran a hand through her hair, trying to collect herself.
Just before she was about to take off, a snowflake fell onto her face at the last second, startling her - and suddenly, for some odd reason, she felt like maybe she could let herself stay a little longer.
It felt like fate.