PSL

[bindsthedead]

There was a time when Sabriel might have been eager to see the inside of Cyberlife Tower. Her class had been to Detroit when she was thirteen, and they'd toured an android factory- or the part of it they showed to tourists, at least- and visited museums and art galleries and all the sorts of things Young Ladies ought to see, but weren't available in the small town of Wyverley, or in Bain.

But Sabriel wasn't here for a school trip. Recent events in Ancelstierre meant that with the sudden loss of all android soldiers meant that soldiers from the entirely human garrison at the Wall had been transferred elsewhere- which meant fewer soldiers watching the border, on top of the losses from Kerrigor's attack, and a necromancer had slipped across, making his way to the largest city that was close enough to the Wall that magic still worked- one that seemed rather different than how she remembered it.

But what was occupying most of her attention was the Cyberlife representative in front of her. Sabriel listened politely as the woman spoke about malfunctioning machines and simulated emotions and how things that weren't alive couldn't die, so why would a necromancer- and from the woman's voice it was clear she didn't believe such things were real- want with deactivated androids?

Sabriel stood up and shook the woman's hand, telling her she'd been very helpful without meaning a word of it, and headed out the office before pausing.

She sensed something ominously familiar- Death, and a recent one at that. She turned another corner, following the sensation as a hound tracked a scent, half-expecting someone to spot her, to see her in her armor and bells (security had made her check her sword at the front desk) and tell her she wasn't allowed to be here.

But no one came, and no one living was in the laboratory she went into- just a dead- (deactivated?) android on a table-or its head and torso at least, with panels on its chest removed to reveal tubes and biocomponents, and Sabriel felt she'd stepped into a morgue and found an autopsied body.

Sabriel was seized by a sudden impulse. If androids weren't alive, then she'd simply waste some time, but if they were... well, she'd have a source of information she could interrogate as she would any Dead spirit. And unlike the representative she'd just spoken to, she could force it to answer honestly and completely.

Decision made, Sabriel undid the straps and drew Saraneth from the bandolier. This far from the Wall, stepping into Death took a deliberate effort, but soon Sabriel was in the First precinct and she cast around with her senses, trying to feel out the spirit of the android- if it had one, it couldn't have gone beyond the First Gate, and probably shouldn't be that far into the the First Precinct.

Comments

[313_248_317_60]

"Don't listen to him, Hank! I'm the one who—"

The gunshot still sounded in his ears: a dim, paralyzing echo. Connor couldn't understand it. He'd tricked and threatened, fought and lied. He'd given the right answers. But still, the human found him out. A suicidal drunk and malfunctioning defect—but somehow, they'd bested him.

Mission Failed.

If he had the energy, he might have hated it. But somehow rage felt too far out of reach. He was a machine. He didn't feel. And if that had never felt like this... if none of it explained the dim grey mist or steady current... Connor couldn't find the energy to protest. Or to stand. The water's chill was sapping his strength, leeching his focus, and he scowled up with dull irritation as he floated down the river.

It wasn't fair.

[bindsthedead]

Oh- there it was. In Death, it had its skin on, and all its limbs attached. Sabriel splashed forward. The odd grey light leached any color from her skin and hair, save for her Charter mark, which shone like a speck of sunshine. But Sabriel kept a distance of a few paces from the android- even the recently Dead could be dangerous.

Saraneth rang out, deep and booming, its tones carrying an unspoken command to stop, stand up. Sabriel's expression was one of intense focus as she braced for it to struggle, to pit her will against its own.

"I wish to speak with you!" The words might have been a request, but the tone was that of command. She needed to know... several things, like what was deviancy, how many deactivated (dead?) androids were in the Detroit area, if Cyberlife knew anything about how their creations interacted with the supernatural- or if they were as ignorant as other Ancelstierrians.... Best start with something simple though.

"Tell me your name!"

[313_248_317_60]

The light drew his attention first. A prickle of brightness. A spark: bright and warm and far too intrusive, dragging at the fog. The android closed his eyes. Opened them, frown digging in a little more sharply.

...when a deep peal of sound wrapped around his core and pulled. Connor sat up. Connor was—moving, splashing, suddenly far too conscious of the liquid that had been tugging him ahead. Of the voice above him. He jerked himself up to his feet, fists curling at either side as the ringing echo looped through his auditory processors: again, again.

"My—" He closed his mouth. Opened his mouth. Teeth gritted, expression twisting in a grimace. "...My name is Connor."

It was a basic script. More importantly,

"Who are you supposed to be?"

[bindsthedead]

"Abhorsen." Sabriel regarded him intently, still brandishing Saraneth like a weapon. She needed answers, and she needed them before someone found her, frozen solid where she probably wasn't supposed to be.

"Tell me, what is deviancy? How many deactivated androids are in Detroit? What does Cyberlife know about how their creations interact with the powers of the Old Kingdom?" Her tone was far more commanding than curious, and there was an oddly singsong quality about it that resonated with Saraneth's echoes. Her father had drilled into her the dangers of seeming weak or hesitant in front of the Dead, even those who had recently passed, even those who seemed harmless.

"Tell me everything you know."

[313_248_317_60]

Connor knew interrogations. He knew the importance of tone and pace, how to monitor a subject's stress levels and how to press them til they break. Connor knew enough to recognize the human's effort—and he knew, too, how little it should work. He wasn't deviant. He wasn't afraid. He was—done; he failed. And even if he hadn't, this human never had command of him.

Still, her voice pressed in, far closer than it had a right to. Singsong, invasive: reverberating with the same rise/fall as the damned bell. A subliminal technique? Some backdoor embedded in his programming? Abhorsen was... a religious role? Something up north.

"Deviancy is—" His mouth twisted, disgust warring with frustration. "—a malfunction. It won't last."

He stared at the bell: still echoing, faint but unceasing. Could he lunge for it? Would whatever she was doing work if he did? He swallowed, trying to suppress the itching in his vocal modulator.

Everything.

...She wasn't authorized. "Why do you care?"

[bindsthedead]

Sabriel frowned, and let Saraneth sound again, pressing her will against his like a vice grip. She didn't have time for this- she needed to get answers, send this android past the Ninth Gate, and track down that necromancer before something disastrous happened. An uncooperative spirit wasn't going to stop her from fulfilling her duties as Abhorsen.

"Answer my questions." She kept the frustration out of her voice- her tone was cold commanding, and relentless.

A malfunction was what the Cyberlife officials had called deviancy. Of course, they'd also insisted androids were soulless, which was clearly wrong, so who knew what else they were either mistaken or lying about.

[313_248_317_60]

The echoes of the bell had been an invasive, looping prompt. The repetition of its deep, clear sound nearly drove him to his knees. Connor staggered, arms crossing, fingers digging in across his frame. Answer. Answer.

He could feel—something—pressing at his mind, prying at the hardset limits of permissions. Connor opened his mouth and closed it, nausea dragging through his biocomponents. He was loyal. She wasn't authorized. He answered to Cyberlife, not some costumed human freak, and he wouldn't—couldn't—

> RK800_313_248_317-60: //ERROR - Permissions conflict, Unauthorized override
> RK800_313_248_317-60: Contacting CyberLife_HQ...
> RK800_313_248_317-60: //ERROR - Connection offline
> RK800_313_248_317-60: //ERROR - Unauthorized modification to local registry

—something snapped, something shifted, and the words spilled free in a rush.

"There were one million, seven hundred and sixty thousand androids active in the larger Detroit area. Most should have been deactivated in the recall. The Old Kingdom is..." he stuttered. "Those are just rumors."

It was true. It should have been. But Connor's eyes flicked from the bells to the Abhorsen's face, and his lips pressed together, cold and furious. Powers.

CyberLife might need to update their records.

[bindsthedead]

Sabriel's expression didn't shift, her dead white face set in an expression of intense concentration, but she felt a surge of mingled triumph and relief when she felt the android- Connor- yield, and start answering her questions.

More than a million... Sabriel swore under her breath, and found herself hoping that if all androids had souls, that they passed swiftly. Or that this android was mistaken, or that she was mistaken about how deactivated androids might interact with necromancy.

"So they don't know anything- or didn't inform you if they did. Now, Cyberlife said the same thing about deviancy that you did, but what is it really? If it's just a malfunction, why is the government-"

That was when she felt phantom hands pressing at her neck and wrist- someone must have found her body, and she needed to get back to it now. Let the river sweep the android away, she needed to get back to her body before anyone got too curious.

So she turned on her heel and ran, stumbling against the current a few times as she forced herself back into life as the thin layer of frost on her body cracked and started to melt as she pushed back the balding man in a lab coat who'd found her. Some sort of scientist, she decided.

Fortunately, he seemed too busy being torn between fear at what he'd seen and concern for the fact that he hadn't been able to find a pulse while her body had been frozen to wonder what she was doing here- right away at least.

"-I'm quite all right, I don't need to go to a hospital! My pulse is fine."

[313_248_317_60]

He couldn't lunge. He couldn't move. Something entirely different than the water's chill was fixing him in place, resonating through his code and imprinting on his tasklist. Answer Abhorsen's questions. It was as if he were standing before Amanda, and Connor froze, thoughts racing... as the human stopped mid-sentence and turned to sprint away.

Connor stared, mouth parting in sheer disbelief. The objective in the corner of his vision flickered, closing. Task complete. The human was leaving. He was done, except...

No. His lip curled in a sneer, hands lowering to clenched fists at either side. He wanted answers.

The water's chill was stronger now, but it wasn't far. Connor struggled against the current, stride lengthening to catch up with the dark-haired figure. She stumbled, and he put on a burst of speed, lunging forward to grab her by the elbow. But he'd barely brushed against the cloth when the world rippled, a sharp, crushing sense of pressure—

Connor #313 248 317-60 opened his eyes.

The bright, clean lighting of a CyberLife laboratory was immediately familiar. So was the armor-clad figure at its center. Everything else was obscured immediately by a mass of error warnings. Damaged components. Missing components. Thirium lines disconnected, central processor—online, despite the catastrophic damage. He had no hands to push himself upright. No legs to stand, even if he could.

"...what the fuck did you do?"

Connor's voice was, apparently, still connected.

[bindsthedead]

Both Sabriel and the scientist turned to regard the android- the scientist with shock, but Sabriel's expression flickered quickly between fearful concern, something focused and predatory, and then confusion. The Connor... didn't feel Dead, which was a relief as much as a puzzle. Were androids alive enough to have spirits, but not alive enough to die? Or had she somehow revived him the way she had Jacinth's rabbit? Sabriel felt her fingernails dig into her palms at the thought that she'd done so without meaning to, and she reached up to touch her Charter mark, to reassure itself that it was there and uncorrupted. She didn't answer the android though- even if she had felt she owed him answers, she wasn't going to discuss necromancy with someone else in the room.

The scientist, apparently deciding that there had been some miscommunication in the chaos after recent events, and he was supposed to repair the android rather than dismantle it, and apparently desperate to focus on something normal, rather than the frozen, apparently lifeless body that had just thawed and become very much alive, started inserting biocomponents and reconnecting tubing.

"RK800, be quiet. This is the RK800- it's an investigative prototype, designed for-" But he didn't meet Sabriel or Connor's eyes, and while his explanation was ostensibly for Sabriel, she suspected it was an attempt to keep every part of his mind on mundane matters. She was lucky he'd been too rattled to call security. Still, she listened, even if she only understood about half of what he was saying. An android designed to investigate crimes, rather than the ones in Wyverley, who were little more than walking security cameras that brought any girls out past curfew back to the school, which was generally the extent of lawlessness in Wyverley.

The scientist was talking so much, Sabriel couldn't get a word in edgewise as he explained that he'd thought this model was scheduled for disassembly, but apparently he'd been mistaken-

It was at that moment, the scientist calmed down enough to realize Sabriel didn't belong here, and the Cyberlife representative, having realized Abhorsen hadn't actually left the building, came through the laboratory door, and Sabriel stiffened, assuming a deliberately neutral expression as she looked at the scientist and the android.

[313_248_317_60]

Connor's eyes flicked sideways at the order, freezing on the technician before his mouth closed. His head turned forward, expression smooth and still. This put the stranger—Abhorsen—directly back in his field of view. He regarded the intruder with a cold, unblinking stare... one made slightly more unnerving by the cracks splintering down from the bullet hole shot through his forehead.

Tubing was connected. Parts slid back into place, and slowly the gaping sense of absence in his core retreated. Through the open paneling, Sabriel could see reconnected lungs expand and compress. The cycle was perfectly, carefully even... until the door opened and the representative stepped in.

For half an instant, everyone froze. Then,

"What's the meaning of this?" Her hand raked across the scene, taking in Sabriel, Connor, and the technician in one sweep. The latter jumped, staring at the shoulder component in his hands as if he wasn't sure how it had gotten there—before hastily setting it down.

"This level is restricted. You aren't authorized to be here." Her polite expression was replaced with a fierce scowl—one that sharpened as she turned to the technician. "And that unit wasn't scheduled for reactivation. Why are you tampering with it?" Her eyes slid from the technician to Sabriel, clearly suspecting some kind of collusion. The man paled, sputtering with quick denials.

[bindsthedead]

"I got lost." Sabriel's expression of wide-eyed innocence was almost convincing- she actually sounded like a confused, slightly petulant teenager. Inwardly, her mind was whirling. If the android was some Dead thing that she couldn't sense, leaving it here would endanger people. But if it wasn't... well, she could find a use for an android designed to investigate things.

"But I found the android, and it felt like a Dead thing, so I thought I'd have a chat with its spirit. Then it apparently followed me out of Death." Normally, Sabriel tried not to frighten people. She'd talk about the supernatural in vague ways, or just tell people they were seeing things. Now, her best option was to frighten this woman into cooperating with her. She stepped closer, looming over the representative, any trace of petulance gone from her voice, replaced by something ominous and cold as Death.

"I was surprised to learn androids had spirits, and I'm sure we could have an interesting philosophical discussion about that, but I don't think you'd be interested in that- perhaps someone else might be." Sabriel might not be entirely clear on what deviants were, but she knew that a debate over android personhood had started up since she'd been away from Ancelstierre.

"A dangerous criminal from the Old Kingdom is in this city, and may have discovered a way to use androids for his own purposes." Unfortunately, telling the truth about how the necromancer in question would do so would probably push things from 'frightening' to 'unbelievable', so Sabriel kept it vague and pushed forward, one hand sketching out Charter marks- not a complete spell, but just enough to make the electric lights overhead flicker.

"I understand the government instructed Cyberlife to cooperate, but none of what you've told me has been particularly helpful. An investigative android would be far more useful than listening to the nonsense you've been reciting- and then we'd both be able to focus on our duties." Or to put it more bluntly- 'give me the android and I'll go away'.

[313_248_317_60]

Spirit? Neither of Cyberlife's employees were paying close enough attention to catch the crease in their android's brow—or the flash of irritation as Sabriel threatened exposure. It was absurd—insulting, really, and for far more reasons than any public fuss she thought she could dredge up. Whatever the nature of the simulation he'd experienced, Connor knew it wasn't spiritual.

Souls were a human delusion. And even they'd agree he didn't have one.

Certainly the representative did. "...Don't be ridiculous," the woman snapped, voice cracking a little as Sabriel towered over her. "You can't come in here, tamper with CyberLife property, and then demand compensation. Least of all for vague religious claims." Her voice was firm, but her eyes flicked uneasily to the malfunctioning lights.

The technician, meanwhile, was doing his best to make up for his mistakes. He produced a length of cable from a nearby terminal, plugging it into the back of the android's skull. Blocks of code appeared on the screen, and he frowned, scrolling through the information. He didn't interrupt the argument, but a quiet mutter could be heard in the background, "RK800, recall your order history for the last two hours of operation."

Connor's reply was similarly quiet: a toneless recital as he stared ahead. "Deceive Hank Anderson. Wait. Deactivate deviant Connor." His expression stayed perfectly flat, voice even. Still, the lag before he continued was noticeable—as was the yellow spinning of his LED. "...Answer Abhorsen's questions. Be quiet."

Her order shouldn't have registered.

[bindsthedead]

Sabriel doesn't discuss emotions or personhood for the rest of the day- instead she focuses on tracking down more of the necromancers human followers.

This time, she doesn't alter their memories- instead, when she and Connor walk out of the building, they leave behind them bloodstains and oddly shaped scorch marks from where Sabriel performed the final rites.

She feels vaguely nauseous afterwords, but she knows her father must have done similar things. She'll... just have to get used to it. And Connor might not always be there to strike the final blow.

Once they get back to the hotel, and she's changed into her pajamas, Sabriel sits on the edge of the bed, looking up at Connor.

"Well, we made some progress today- although we'll need to either avoid the army, or pass you off as a human from now on, when we're near other humans." She doesn't want to rely on her magic to keep Connor from getting shot.

[313_248_317_60]

RK800s were designed with considerably more latitude than other models: in the autonomy they express, and the violence they were made capable of inflicting. Still, this is the first time Connor has explored the full extent of that programming on humans. It's been a day for new experiences.

And new equipment. By the time Abhorsen is ready for bed, Connor's taken up a position against the wall next to the desk, inspecting the pair of disassembled guns spread across one side. He angles one barrel, peering down the inside of the shaft... before Abhorsen speaks, and his attention turns her way.

Avoid the army. Or pass him off as a human. One of these options seems distinctly superior to Connor. He blinks, eyebrows lifting slightly. "Were you planning to approach the soldiers again?"

He wouldn't recommend it.

[bindsthedead]

Sabriel shakes her head, frowning.

"Not of my own free will. But it's possible they'll approach us, if people see a human and an android together and think they should tell the authorities about it. Not to mention if they decide to take my warnings seriously and investigate the Dead." Although Sabriel's tone makes it clear she doubts they'll do that. Not while they're more focused on fighting deviants.

"I suppose tomorrow, we'll track down more of the necromancer's followers, and deal with them." Which is a euphemistic way of putting it, but Sabriel's bracing herself for actually striking the killing blow this time.

"Unless you think we should get supplies instead? Or something else?"

[313_248_317_60]

"...It's possible."

Probable, even. They'd been lucky the other night, with the hotel clerk—and this time, Connor had made sure to take a back entrance. He's just not entirely sure what precautions she intends on taking. He sets down the gun, shrugging in response.

"We could. Were there supplies you needed?" Eyes flick sideways, LED spinning a blue ring. "I could scout some options out tonight."

It would be more efficient.

[bindsthedead]

"Well... A hat for you, at least. Just in case." It's not like Connor's wearing any identifiers, so the main thing is to cover up his LED.

"And- I think I have enough clothes, although I should probably get a jacket that isn't torn. Is there anything else you need?"

Some part of her wonders if it's safe for Connor to go out on his own, but- she can't think of any reason why he'd be reckless. And he doesn't need to sleep- he probably gets bored waiting around while she does, even if Sabriel's sure he'd claim he's incapable of such a thing.

[313_248_317_60]

"Ammunition." He flashes a bland smirk.

At his current rate of usage... actually, he should be able to last out the week. But it wouldn't hurt to be ready for emergencies.

Especially if Abhorsen's parameters continue shifting as they have been. He accepts the hat as a necessary compromise, and nods at her list. She hadn't argued with the proposition, so...

"I'll look around."

[bindsthedead]

He must be bored, Sabriel decides, waiting around while she sleeps. No wonder he's eager for something to occupy his time. Still, as long as he's careful...

"All right. Stay safe, and call if anything happens." This time, she'll check her phone. She picks it up, briefly, just to make sure the volume is turned all the way up. She's generally a light sleeper- this should be enough.

[313_248_317_60]

Nothing in Connor's face implies the slightest eagerness. Still, the quick, efficient reassembly of those guns might be a clue. He tucks one away beside his ankle, tugging down his pant leg to cover it before he holsters the second at his hip.

His eyebrows lift. "Answer if I call." The context of the words might sharpen the retort, but there's relatively little barb to them. This time.

Permission acquired, Connor doesn't linger. He slips outside, LED spinning a bright blue as he breathes in the chill air. (And the refreshing isolation.) A quick glance takes in the streets nearby: a mismatched collection of neon lights illuminating grey slush and barred, abandoned stores. Closed, and much too close to risk police attention even if they had anything of use.

He'll need to search further afield.

Connor turns down the nearest alley and starts to walk, accessing the backdoor he'd placed in the DPD's network. It takes less than a minute to download and skim through the day's updates, and less to compile a current profile of the city's districts. There's a mall a mile and a half away—far enough from the most recent conflicts that a few shops have stayed active through the evacuation. They're closed at this hour, but if the police reports are any sign, they've been relying on a digital security system.

One hour later, Connor has, reluctantly, pocketed a hat. He's also procured a change for his soiled outfit, and identified two different outlets where Abhorsen could select cold-weather clothing of her own come morning. He tugs at the line of his new (grey) jacket, ensuring it lies flat over his weaponry... and extracts one last item from the pocket of his discarded coat.

His defective predecessor's key.

6-pin key
Length: 4.51 cm
Composition: brass alloy; 63.4% copper, 35.8% zinc, 0.8% lead

A stylized MSC is printed at the base. Connor scans the logo, and turns up Michigan Storage Centers— a company with four facilities located within Detroit. The largest, he can rule out immediately—according to the police files, it's been commandeered as a base of operations by the human troops. The next size up seems to be much more isolated, though. A dockside facility, further south—in a district abandoned most of a week ago.

Connor pockets the key and finds a taxi. He abandons it half a mile from his destination, approaching on foot and keeping an eye out for recent traffic. The gate to the facility is easily surmounted, though after one look at the massive sprawl of shipping crates inside, Connor quickly abandons any intention of physically searching for a match. He breaks into the manager's office instead, forging database access to the key-printing machines. From there, it's a simple scan: comparing the characteristics of the item in his pocket to the templates saved on file.

Shipping container B-0919.

The facility's cameras have already been deactivated. He checks the yard for recent footprints as he circles in towards his objective. Listens carefully outside the door. Nothing. Cautiously, Connor unlocks the storage unit, and cracks open the door.

[youcantkillme]

The inside of the shipping container is dark with shadows suggesting tables lining the small space, and shapes that might be crates. Once the door opens wide enough, a hanging lamp near the room's center snaps on, and wall-to-wall display projections soften the room's harsh shadows with ambient glows. The projections show feverishly gathered reports, except for the screen spanning the back wall, which shows a series of photographs of a very familiar arm and a very familiar bite mark.

The bite mark has begun to decay, and as the prominently featured timestamps progress, the decay worsens significantly. The table under the display has the least clutter, and features a single disembodied hand with its own bite mark. The hand is chalky and swollen, and has half-melted against the metal surface it's resting on. "Carmen Jones | 194-098-786 ST300 | 03/14/2030-11/13/2038" reads a perfect note beside it, pressed far enough not to catch any of the residue.

Most of the other tables are cluttered with stringently organized samples, with maps displayed to show their locations and reports detailing the circumstances thereof. There's a few boxes where the evidence has been thrown inside to be moved, but none of it is actually yet gone.

The room is silent. There's no one else there.

[313_248_317_60]

No traps. No defenses. And by the look of the evidence laid out, this is very much his predecessor's workspace. Cautiously, Connor advances into the room, scans sweeping out to catologue each item on display.

He moves carefully across the tables. Lingers by the decomposing hand, and takes a current sample to compare. A set of boxes against the far wall opens up to dirt samples appended with painstaking notes. From the landfill, Connor realizes quickly— and with details on where in the city each deposit had been moved. He uses the projector to throw an image up against the wall, overlaying the locations with a map of the city's sewage lines.

...running water. Apparently, Abhorsen wasn't wrong.

It's useful. More, this is information he hasn't been able to acquire on his own—both for lack of time and limited movement, trailing behind Abhorsen's steps. Not that Connor has any regrets about the information he's acquired, but this could easily be used to point them at new targets. Or even track down where Abhorsen's enemy has been working out of up to now.

He's downloading the database when the sound comes—a scuff of motion from outside the door. Connor leaves one skinless hand on the computer system, data flickering past in rapid display across the walls. His other hand moves to his hip, palm settling easily over his gun.

[youcantkillme]

There's no knock at the door. No pause for an answer: no one is expected to be here, and Connor has one foot in the door before he realizes his mistake.

The only part of him that doesn't freeze is his left arm, which dives under his open coat to his own holster. The door tries to swing closed without the support, bumping into his shoulder, and the far arm remains stiffly by his side, elbow locked.

"What are you doing here?" Connor demands, eyes darting to the displays. The answer is, unfortunately, obvious, as is the danger to his evidence that he'd wanted to avoid. He draws the gun.

"Place your hands on your head and step away from the terminal."

The door is weighing insistently on his elbow, but Connor makes that arm aim for the spare android's thirium pump, a large target even in this lighting. Even with his handicaps.

[313_248_317_60]

His predecessor's arrival is predictable enough. So is its reach for the gun, and Connor's grip closes around his own: drawing and leveling in a single smooth motion. His face remains calm, aim steady on its pump, but there's a sharp dislike behind his voice.

"I don't think I will."

Place his hands on his head. Step away, get on the ground, all those familiar gestures of submission—this time, demanded by a source with no authority at all. On the contrary. Its leveled weapon neatly closes the one restriction Connor had, and he smirks at the prompt that appears in the corner of his vision. Defend yourself.

If necessary, Abhorsen said. Data flits by, download in progress as Connor considers.

"How's the arm?"