bindsthedead

PSL

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Well, Connor's back to being... Connor. Frankly, given what she knows of his prior experiences with the RK800, Sabriel can't find it in herself to scold him.

"I fixed the damage, and brought you back. And please don't threaten either of us, Connor's instructions haven't changed." Still, he seems less hostile than before. It might just be disorientation, but it's... promising. Sabriel presses forward, keeping her tone firm but not too aggressive. She wants to sit down- between Death, the baptism, and healing him, she's definitely drained- but she needs to not seem weak.

"I'm not interested in androids chasing after us to avenge you- I have enough enemies already." Sabriel leans forward, propping herself up on the arm of the sofa to better loom over the android.

"I need you to tell your friends to leave us alone- I don't want to hurt you, or them. I just want to stop the man with the bells before he hurts anyone else, and deal with the mess he's already caused. And don't push yourself too hard for a few days- otherwise you'll disrupt the healing and the wounds will reopen." Her tone is stern, bordering on lecturing.

She leans over him, pale and seemingly unaffected by literally snatching him from the jaws of... whatever that river was. The afterlife? Was that the afterlife? ('Nothing. There would be nothing.') Connor's chest squeezes unbearably, and suddenly he feels crowded, penned in. He struggles to a sitting position, mouth tightening as the aches all shrill with pain at the jostling, and he doesn't stop until his feet are flat on the ground.

He doesn't (can't) get up. He can lift his chin, saying very, very evenly, "If you don't want to hurt them, then don't. No one's forcing you to do otherwise."

He makes eye contact with his counterpart as he speaks, daring it to take 'not being conciliatory' as 'threatening'. Will it anyway? If it shoots Connor again, would she revive Connor again? Connor's eyes dart back to her, and she's not even winded. She looks young, and too small to be threatening, but several times now she's taken what should have been a complete loss and radically transformed it to her own will. This is not normal. She's dangerous, and utterly, completely unpredictable. He doesn't know how she's going to respond. Will she help him? Will she trap him while Connor gets shot again, and then rewind him back to the beginning, like an old film cassette?

The deviant still isn't cooperating. How predictable. Especially since, from the way Abhorsen's talking, she hasn't done anything to correct that flaw.

Still, Connor can't help appreciating some changes in the situation. Its LED is a muted amber, flickering occasionally as stress spikes and falls. Its movements are slow, and not for any lack of desperation. Is it experiencing too much pain to stand? Or is it just too weak to manage? And, of course, there's the glance it shoots in his direction.

Challenging. Wary.

(Afraid.)

Connor smiles back, gun lifting... and lowering: one casual turn of the wrist. Abhorsen's urging for restraint has been superseded once already, and it's possible he could justify firing again. But without a better reason to do so, she'd just undo more of his good work.

"Did you make any calls?" he presses instead, gaze resting pointedly on that yellow LED. It seems fixated on its 'friends'.

Well, this is... less than ideal, but not as bad as she'd feared. At least he's not threatening them. Sabriel straightens up, trying to look unruffled and not as tired as she feels. She turns to Connor as he speaks- if the RK800 did, call, they might have a problem. Connor might be armed, but Sabriel won't be able to use much magic. It probably would result in someone getting killed, and all over a stupid misunderstanding.

"I don't want to- but I will if they try to threaten or hurt Connor or me. Don't mistake my restraint for weakness- I'm trying to keep all of you from getting hurt- by either of us, or by that man and the monsters he's making. They're not creatures you can fight with guns." Bullets might be able to kill her and Connor, but they won't work against the Dead- and the necromancer probably won't stay dead unless Sabriel drags him to the Ninth Gate herself.

"Just- let me handle it. As Abhorsen, it's my duty, and my purpose, and I'm better equipped to deal with it."

'Stay out of this.' It's not a new instruction, but he lingers over it regardless. Her tone is steady, and a breakdown of her expression turns back, 'earnest', and 'intent'. Not disdain, or contempt, or any number of things Connor has seen directed his way.

There's a 76% chance she's being sincere. The chances of a human expressing this the way she seems to be are significantly lower, and Connor is tempted to run his analysis again, but he doesn't.

"... I sent a message after you paralyzed me, but before I died," Connor answers, grasping at the only concrete answer he can give easily. His eyes drift to one of the guns the RK800 is holding (his own gun), but says nothing, and looks back at her a moment later. "If all it will take to avoid a repeat of the experience is to avoid overt threats, then I will send the order for them to stand by, as opposed to retrieving my remains."

Edited 2019-05-31 04:03 (UTC)

Sabriel nods, satisfied. He's exhausted, aware of what she can do, and seems to have accepted that she doesn't want to hurt him or the other deviants. This is as friendly as they're likely to be, but it's good enough.

"Please, do so. I'd like to avoid any more hostilities- and Connor," Sabriel adds, turning back to the real Connor, letting a bit of her exhaustion creep into her face, once she's not facing the other Connor.

"Defend yourself if necessary, but please don't threaten them- I'm not asking you to be nice, just- try to avoid starting any fights. The Dead are more than enough to deal with."

She's not sure if Connor could be nice if he tried, and asking him to do so would probably just make him act worse when he thought he could get away with it. Then she forces back her exhaustion and turns back to the other Connor, holding out her hand for him to shake- or use to get himself upright, since he seems rather unsteady.

Retrieving its remains. The corner of Connor's mouth twitches, eyes flicking out of focus at the thought. If the deviants would really come for the body, that could make for a supremely useful tool. To lure in other high-value targets... to gain access to their group. Not to mention the information Cyberlife could have extracted directly from its memories and code. (The information he could have extracted.)

It would take the barest thought to transmit the plan to Amanda. To report the the Garden, submit for scrutiny—approval, maybe. But—

But Connor has no access to Zen_Garden.exe. But Amanda doesn't set his missions now.

Attention returns to the human who does, and Connor blinks, expression carefully neutral at her efforts to impose parameters. If necessary. Try. That's more than enough room for him to apply his own judgement—when or if it benefits the mission, of course. Still, she's made her priorities clear. He tilts his head the barest fraction, tone bland and innocent.

"I was just following orders."

Connor's gaze slides back to his predecessor, eyebrows lifting with a smirk. "And if its 'friends' care as much as it assumes... I'm not sure they'll be a problem long."

"Please do so," she says.

Connor wastes no time: his LED's cycling pauses, then speeds up to a spottier, reception-dependent blinking. 'This is RK800 313-248-317-53', he sends, acutely aware of the new numbers prefacing his messages. Then he hesitates, searching for words to encompass the full system transfer, the death, the river--

No. That's too much. If not a full, complete report, however, then what?

... Well, the act of sending that alone just announced he was alive and speaking from new hardware. Perhaps that's all they need to start with.

... 'Transmitting current location. Stand by.'

There. The entire message took three point seven seconds to compose, and his LED steadies as he finishes, having been yellow throughout. His eyes follow Abhorsen and the android as they talk, and they sharpen as it smirks.

"What does that mean?" he demands sharply.

"Just what you said already," Connor answers, brows quirking further in a feigned suprise. "Friendly advice, was it? And now. You called them to the location. And deviants just don't know how to let proper waste disposal go."

As if in demonstration, a muffled crack fills the pause in conversation. Then another. Gunfire, from the opposite side of the building. Connor's gaze drops to his own gun, balancing it idly on a palm.

"A police report was filed twenty-one minutes ago. Shots fired, just a few blocks from the station."

More, now. Connor shrugs, empty hand opening expansively. A few blocks away, where his predecessor's thirium and a single spent bullet would have been found in an alleyway. A few blocks away, where the deviants were coming to retrieve its remains.

"The humans have been canvassing the scene."

"Shit."

Sabriel's tired, she should probably sit down, if not lie down and take a nap, but there's a surge of adrenaline when she hears the gunshots, and it wipes away some of the exhaustion, enough to make her stand up straight and start heading for the door.

"We have to stop it- we can't let people get killed over a- a misunderstanding!" Everyone dies, but the thought of people dying for this is... upsetting. Wrong.

She's tired, unarmed, and in a state where using magic will probably knock her unconscious. But she's still walking to the door, motioning for the two of them to follow her.

"We have to explain what happened and- they can take the other Connor back."

Edited 2019-06-01 05:59 (UTC)

"Wait."

Connor makes to stand, and one of his knees buckles as it fails to receive thirium quickly enough. He catches himself on the couch arm and tries again, craning over his shoulder to keep her in sight.

"Stop. That won't help anything, I'll give them the signal to leave--" A cry splits the air, and it doesn't sound like an android, but it's too far to be sure. His thirium pump is pounding in his chest, but there's not enough thirium to go around, and he feels faint, and very, very alarmed.

"If you go, it's going to get my people killed."

What would happen if she paralyzed all the deviants, trusting that the police would hold their fire? Or--hell, not even trusting, but expecting them to act as they saw fit? It would be a slaughter. Nothing less. Connor forces himself the rest of the way to his feet, shaking slightly, and his eyes cut a glance at his counterpart. He seems loathsomely unbothered, and it would certainly serve him right if Connor tore his body back out from under him, but that's impossible for a variety of reasons. So is shooting or otherwise deactivating him on his way out.

... Abhorsen is a greater, wilder threat right now. Connor snaps his attention back to her, hoping against hope that she'll have stopped.

Unbothered? Certainly, in some regards. A loss of life among the DPD is hardly something Connor would regret, especially after the morning spent submitting to their scrutiny. The destruction of the deviants, he'd actively appreciate. His predecessor's feeble protests don't draw the slightest glance—but Connor's eyes snap sideways, a small frown cementing on his face as Abhorsen starts to move.

"...What are you doing?"

He isn't damaged. Or exhausted by a spell she should never have cast in the first place. Connor's grip closes back around his gun and he steps forward quickly, cutting away the distance. He catches up at the doorway and reaches out, free hand grabbing at Abhorsen's shoulder to pull her back.

"Don't be an idiot." The words hiss out, sharp and irritated and Connor lowers his voice, glance flitting to his double: still some distance back. "If you go out there and start spitting out your precious spells, you'll just give both sides a new target."

Another cry interrupts the sharp staccato of bullets—this time, cutting off sharply. Connor ignores it. "Leave it. Whatever attachment you're developing—"

When Sabriel feels the hand on her shoulder she stops. She's not angry, just upset and urgent. She can feel the deaths- bullets going through bodies, and some of the deaths are instant- others take several seconds, as blood or thirium pours through open wounds. It's not painful, but it's an unsettling phantom sensation.

"But they're dying! I don't know if it's humans or androids, but I can feel them dying, and all because of a stupid misunderstanding! I can- paralyze both sides, and then- then we can all explain that it's a misunderstanding and that the other Connor's fine."

Sabriel shudders as she feels another death.

Connor listens to the gunshots, and can't stop himself from wondering how many androids he knows will be dead before this is over.

"Abhorsen," He calls, straightening and almost overbalancing. He grabs the end-table nearest to him with an ungainly clatter, and stays leaning this time. "It's fine. I've already sent a message to my friends--"

A very ill-timed scream pierces his words, accompanied by what was probably half a clip being unloaded. Connor fights not to react, and to handle both the messages he's getting and the conversation with her.

Probability of Success: 18%.

"--They're withdrawing now." He doesn't know if they are. "Involving yourself would only complicate things."

She hasn't thrown him off. Thrown him off, knocked him aside, snapped out orders to let go, don't touch her, get out of the way. It's better reception than he'd expected for laying hands on a human, and part of Connor is filing away the tactic for future use. In the 27.83 hours that he's belonged to this human, this is the most positively she's responded to any effort at persuasion.

The rest of Connor is much more focused on the situation now. She doesn't force him back, so he moves forward, a turn and step planting him in the doorway to physically block Abhorsen bolting out into the fray. The position offers a clear view of his double, and Connor glances sharply toward it as it speaks. It sent a message—with their current location? And what else? Withdrawal flags as a lie—a useful one, for Connor's purposes. But it told them something, and Connor has no interest in staying to learn what it is.

"See?" he reinforces, eyes training back on Abhorsen. "It's being handled. And it's not our concern. Don't forget about the mission."

Connor certainly hasn't. If she dies, he fails.

"There's an exit on the other side of the complex. We should go now."

Edited 2019-06-02 00:28 (UTC)

Sabriel pauses, the conflict written all over her face. She rememembers another time- in Belisaere, when she thought she could still get to her father in time to save him. Along the way, they'd passed a group of scavengers... and the children they kept chained together, to be used as bait to lure the Dead away from wherever they were scavenging.

At the time, Sabriel had wanted to stop it- to attack the scavengers and free the children. Mogget had stopped her then- and at least Connor didn't draw blood to get her to listen. She'd felt awful about it, but-

Don't forget about the mission.

Abhorsen's business is with the Dead.

Sabriel bows her head in acknowledgement,and steps back from the door. Connor- the real one and the other one- have a point.

"I understand. Our work is with the Dead, not the living." Hopefully Connor will remember that the next time they encounter deviants.

"We'd better get going then- Connor, lead the way- we need to stop by the hotel and get my equipment." Or possibly just lie down for a few hours- the healing and the baptism had been more draining than she expected.

Edited 2019-06-02 00:56 (UTC)

Probability of success: 31%

Probability of success: 56%

Probability of success: 79%...

She's agreeing to withdraw. His friends are disengaging themselves from their confrontation. Yes, she'll still be dangerous and unpredictable, and his friends are already pelting him with questions he can't answer, but--already this has improved drastically over the course of a few seconds. In fact, it's far too good to be true, though he can't guess at how.

His damaged arm aches particularly fiercely as he slowly relaxes his grip on the table, but he ignores it, watching human and android with equal attention. He's reluctant to speak, invested in learning as much about their plans as he can, but he also wants to control their last impression of him.

Connor carefully straightens, leaning discreetly against the table while freeing his hands and holding himself in a way that's slightly more dignified. He'll be silent for now.

She's—listening? Connor blinks. To a human, the reaction might be imperceptible, but the other RK800 in the room will doubtless spot the momentary lag, and the blankness to his expression. Connor overrides the surprise, nodding quickly as he turns. As thoroughly as the human enjoyed micromanaging his actions, he hadn't expected her to take commands.

What was the prompt? Our work is with the dead? He files it away for later.

The gun in his left hand is a comforting weight as he steps ahead, checking around the corner. A map of the complex shows an easy route: right instead of left, a few more twists along the corridor. Even as weak as the human seems, they should be able to get clear.

Sabriel follows, moving a little more slowly than normal, but upright and relatively alert. She desperately needs to rest, and hopefully never need to use a healing spell of such strength for a while... but all three of them are getting out of this alive, even if Connor's in the wrong body. Hopefully there will be a way to fix that at some point.

Then she turns back to the other Connor, straightening her shoulders.

"Farewell- stay safe. And please don't agitate that injury- you'll disrupt the spell and your wounds will reopen."

Then she turns back to the real Connor, nodding to show that she's ready. Lying down in a hotel bed had never sounded so appealing.

'Disrupt the spell'. If she hadn't literally held him paralyzed through the power of floating lights and a few gestures, he would scoff.

"I won't," he says instead, giving her a short smile that doesn't reach his eyes. Then she turns, and the expression drops immediately, and he waits for her to leave.

She doesn't get that far.

"Don't move," grows a new voice from the doorway they're not leaving through. Connor jerks his head around and finds North standing there, gun already up. "Connor," she adds, then frowns at his armband. "Wait. Who the hell--"

"It's me, North," Connor says quickly. "Let them go. They're already leaving--"

"I wouldn't come any closer," says a tight voice through the door the human and RK800 had been going to leave through. That's both exits from the room covered, and more androids appearing behind North, and presumably through the other exit.

"Connor?" says the voice down the hall.

This is not according to plan.

Edited 2019-06-02 23:04 (UTC)

The pleasantries are meaningless. Connor ignores them, tracking the slow decrease in gunshots as he waits impatiently at the threshold of the room. Abhorsen turns finally, and he steps ahead through the doorway—

—just as a PL600 rounds the corner, weapon raised.

"Connor?"

Time slows to a crawl, scene snapping into stark focus. There are other androids behind the PL. Voices coming from the other entrance to the room. Deviants, well-armed and stained with residue from recent conflict. A conflict that—despite the mop-up happening outside, they've clearly won.

[Flee]? Success rate: 09%. The exits are blocked, and while there's a clear path to a set of windows, the deviants have clear aim on that escape route too. Not to mention he'd have to drag Abhorsen with him.

[Lie]? Success rate... dropping. The PL600's gun is twitching down—it sees its friend, and doesn't want to shoot him. But Connor can hear, too, his predecessor speaking from across the room. It knows their names. He doesn't, and it won't hesitate to prove that fact. If Abhorsen had just left it dead... but it's too late for that.

[Fight]? 58%. If he moves now: takes advantage of that hesitation, clears a path and drags the human through. The choice is obvious, and Connor offers a polite, scripted smile to the deviant, answering its greeting with a calm, "Hello." He wishes he knew its name. But its weapon is still lowering, and his own comes up—

"Connor, don't." They're surrounded by armed and angry deviants, but if Sabriel can immobilize enough of them, they can make a run for it, without anyone getting shot. Sabriel keeps her voice steady and confident, looking around at a room full of confused and hostile androids as she reaches into the Charter. It's a struggle find the marks she needs, where it would normally be so easy, and they seem to resist her attempt to draw them out.

"Listen, I don't want anyone to get hurt. Please, let us leave peacefu-"

For a split second, the air is full of shining Charter marks, swarming around the androids- but they're gone before anything happens, the effort of the failed spell leaving Sabriel suddenly dizzy.

Sabriel collapses, breaking her fall with her arms at the last second before sinking to the floor, unable to push herself upright. Unconsciousness follows quickly, leaving Sabriel unconscious in a room full of confused (but mostly hostile) androids.

There's something in her tone that has Connor's eyes cutting back towards her, sharper than darts. It's the assertion in the word 'don't', the shift from 'I will work with you' to 'I will make sure of our safety'. Fragments of light stream out from her, and Connor stiffens strongly enough that North whirls, bringing her gun up.

"Stop it!" she calls, planting her feet and holding her ground. "I'm going to shoot--"

The human's eyes roll up in her head, and she sinks to the floor. The lights disappear, and North breaks off, opening and closing her mouth.

Connor is one of the gawkers, until he tears his eyes away, frowning hard at the other RK800. It still has a gun, but his friends are here and armed, now, and there's certainly nothing Connor can do against it. What he can do is help deal with...

"What just happened?" He tilts his head towards her slightly, not looking away from him.

The command shatters his preconstructions. Connor freezes, finger locked over the trigger—and then Abhorsen's plan for their escape collapses too. Unfortunately... literally. His stare fixes on the fallen body, vital readings reporting low blood pressure, an accelerating heartbeat—dropping, now. As pale as her complexion was before, there's a new ashen tinge to lips and nostrils.

Abhorsen, Sabriel
Syncopal Episode

"...I couldn't say."

He could guess, though. Eyes flit up to his duplicate: watchful, but still unarmed. Just past it stands a WR400, currently leveling a handgun. It's trained on the human, though when it spots his weapon still aimed at its friend, it switches targets. The gun is steady, but the Traci's expression twists with shock, and it bites off a "Connor—?" before glancing back to his copy. Alarm, distress—but worry, too. What had his copy called that unit? North?

[Lie?]

...he still doesn't know the PL600's name. Or what his predecessor told them. There's too much he doesn't know for any deception to last, and his copy would stop them from lowering their guard in the short term. The PL unit is still hesitating, but the androids behind it have brought their weapons back in line. Connor keeps his trained on the PL600, tone conversational and pleasant as he steps back toward Abhorsen.

"Congratulations. You got what you came for."

So, leave.

"So we did," North says coolly. Without taking her eyes off him, she says to Connor, "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm recovering from an injury."

He's ready to leave it there, but she doesn't let him.

"What did they do to you?"

It's not a soft question, more wary than gentle. Connor's lips thin, and he scans Abhorsen again, getting the same nebulous conclusion as before. 'Syncopal Episode. She fainted. He doesn't want her or her dangerous abilities close to Jericho, but she can't get away on her own. The probability of North letting the group release the other RK800 without question is no higher than 02%. If Markus were here--no. He could override her as the leader, but he wouldn't. Only an idiot would.

Connor says, "RK800s are uniquely designed to transfer memories and large packages of data. We switched bodies, and then I was damaged further."

"That was a lot of thirium," she remarks, sparing him a glance. Her eyes rest on his bullet wounds, before she looks past him, at one of the new androids holding a gun. "Search and disarm him. No--both of them. If either puts up a fight... shoot to disable. And you," she looks past to another new android. "Take her with us. We'll get this all straightened out somewhere that's not on the police's doorstep." North jerks her head towards where Abhorsen is lying.

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