Sabriel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bindsthedead) wrote2019-03-09 01:38 am
bindsthedead) wrote2019-03-09 01:38 am
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.
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.
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He tucks in the shirt. Loops and knots the tie, before picking up the jacket. They aren't his clothes, and Connor fidgets with the lay once everything is settled, tugging at his sleeves with a small frown. It's more animation than the android's shown since he removed them.
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"Listen, I should probably get some sleep, and eat a proper meal, but after that- Why don't we try to follow up on the leads you were talking about before the other Connor showed up? Unless you think we should do something else." Sabriel's tone makes it clear that if Connor has another idea, she wants to hear it- given what's happened, she can't help but think it might be better than hers.
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No better ideas. But, he'd been the one to suggest tracking the human accomplices in the first place—and less than twenty-four hours ago, at that. Still, the language Abhorsen's using, and the way her attention locks, checking for input... is she showing guilt over ignoring his advice before?
...74% chance, a quick analysis concurs.
Connor is a machine. These sentiments are misplaced at best. Delusional at worst. It's the same ridiculous projection that had her unwilling to harm deviants, even when the malfunctions clearly didn't share her hesitation. Connor has advised her to correct the error more than once before, but... if she won't...
"If we do find the necromancer's allies," he asks: expression bland, voice unassuming, "you should let me question them."
The way she hadn't, with his duplicate today.
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Sabriel thinks of the broken Charter stones, of villages wiped out by the Dead, their inhabitants killed or fleeing, of the fear and fatalism she's seen in people's faces in the Old Kingdom. Her expression hardens.
"You can do that. If anyone complains, I'll deal with the consequences."
Anyone stupid or evil enough to work with that necromancer deserves what happens to them.
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This response is... much more open-ended. Connor is silent for a moment, eyes flitting from the line of her mouth to the glint in her eyes. It's possible—likely, even—that she'll backtrack. Turn squeamish at the scene, interfere if he's not careful to pacify her sentiments. But here and now?
She seems to mean it.
Connor inclines his head, brows quirking up. "Get some rest, Abhorsen." When she's finished? They'll have work to do.
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She's tired enough that Sabriel doesn't bother changing her clothes- instead she just gets under the covers, offering Connor a weary smile as she stops trying to ignore the heaviness in her limbs, how it takes a deliberate effort to keep her eyes open, and surrenders to sleep.
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He waits, light pulsing slowly as the human's breathing regulates. She falls into REM quickly, but he adds a timer for ten minutes more, just to be sure. It passes without incident, and he steps silently into the bathroom, closing the door and flicking on the light inside.
The face in the mirror doesn't look any different. Connor inspects it regardless, tilting the head one way, then the next. A hand twitches up a scant few centimeters before freezing. The human is asleep, but—
...
But... nothing. Zen_Garden.exe hasn't been online for days.
Connor touches his face. Inspects the glint of light against brown optics, cautiously brushes his fingers over the texture of his hair. He doesn't have all of the data replicated for comparison, but he looks the way he should. Except for the clothes.
(Except for the number he knows is printed underneath that face: 313 248 317-53—)
Connor scowls, shrugging off the jacket for a second time. Every sensor in the area is nonresponsive, and picking apart the damage to 'his' shoulder occupies the better part of a half hour. Even if it mostly just confirms what he'd already guessed. [Bullet wound: 0.355 caliber]. Biocomponent 5183e replaced, and the surrounding thirium lines cauterized with a blunt tool. A hack job.
It probably wouldn't fall apart. Even if the scraping was annoying. Connor closes everything back up and prepares to wait. Human sleep cycles last just over eight hours on average, but between the atypical hours and the exhaustion Abhorsen had displayed, this could be... considerably more.
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I'ts a little before dawn, Sabriel realizes and she's refreshed but ravenous. So she hurries through her morning routine with urgent efficiency, getting cleaned up and packing her guitar case with her armor and weapons. By the time she steps out of a convenience store with coffee and several pastries, it's six-thirty in the morning.
"All right," she tells Connor, "Where do you want to start?"
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So ready, in fact, that he doesn't offer more than a pointed stare when she inquires after wants. He holds up his palm instead, projecting the image of a scruffy looking human man. Tattoos run down both exposed shoulders in the mugshot, showing a pair of snarling, draconic faces.
"Adrian Harris. Born December 10, 2002, currently unemployed. Four arrests on record for possessing and dealing red ice." Connor lets her examine the image for a moment before his palm curls shut, dismissing it.
"His description matches the KW's summary with 96% confidence." It would have been 100 if he'd been allowed access to its memories. Connor swallows back the bitter remark, inclining his head.
"And his cell phone is currently just east of Highland Park."
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She hasn't heard of Highland Park before- but hopefully it isn't a particularly large park. Still, Harris matches the sort of person they're looking for, and even if he's armed and has allies... Connor has combat programming and Sabriel's both a powerful Charter mage and a necromancer. They'll be able to deal with any living or Dead opponents.
"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with Detroit's geograhy- is that very far from here? Will we need to go past any checkpoints on the way there?" She's sure Connor will say something snide about her ignorance, but she'd rather have him be snide than be caught unprepared.
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"It's fourteen minutes by taxi. And still under human control." Troop locations aren't publicly accessible, but if they stay away from the border, the odds of being stopped decrease significantly. "...We should be able to avoid them."
Should. He tugs at the line of his jacket, smoothing a near-invisible crease from the holster underneath.
aaand short timeskip
Sabriel's mostly silent during the taxi ride, but there's an air of tension about her- like a coiled spring, or a bowstring pulled taut, constantly looking out the window as though she's ready to jump out and keep moving as soon as the taxi stops.
When the taxi does, she looks around, confused. "Are you sure we're in the right place? I don't see a park here."
Connor might be an ass, but she can't see him sabotaging her like this- or making a mistake about location. So she must have misunderstood something.
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Two minutes to wait. Fourteen to drive. The taxi rolls to a stop, and Connor's already reaching for the door. Shoes crunch in the snow, eyes settling on a house across the street... before Abhorsen speaks, and his gaze flicks back. This time, his expression isn't quite as restrained.
"...Highland Park is a municipal district." Each word drawls out pointedly slow, as if for an audience with a particularly challenged mind. "And I said 'east of'." A pointed jerk of the head indicates the house at the address, and Connor takes a few steps forward at an angle, trying for a better view of the windows. Are the lights on inside the building?
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"Is it possible they're still asleep?" It's not that early, but it wouldn't surprise Sabriel if criminals were prone to sleeping in. And it would make sneaking up on them much easier.
"There's one of the Dead inside, but I don't think anyone's died there recently- either he's not there anymore, or it's been ordered not to attack him." Those are the only two explanations for how a Dead creature could be in someone's home without attempting to eat the occupants.
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His expression is unmoved, but there's a hint of charge behind the android's voice. Anticipation. The lights are off. Their targets is complacent, and the dead thing waiting in the building is only confirmation that they're following a useful trail. He nods at the information, eyes lingering on the street outside: multiple cars parked nearby, when most humans have abandoned the area. Did Harris have company?
Connor doesn't mention the possibility aloud. Abhorsen is far too fretful already about inflicting harm, and the presence of potential bystanders won't help. A hand goes to his hip, checking the gun holstered just beneath his jacket.
He's ready when she is.
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She nods to Connor, falling in line behind him.
"I'll deal with the Dead, while you handle Harris." It seems like a good plan, since she knows she's better at fighting the Dead than Connor is- and he's probably better at getting information out of living people.
And someone willingly working with the Dead deserves anything Connor might want to do to them.
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Neither has Connor. He keeps this fact from his expression as he walks forward: shoulders straight, stance confident. While his model series was designed to stand in for law enforcement on a larger scale, the deviant investigation had claimed precedent. And his predecessor's failure to handle that had more or less decimated the city's rule of law. If he were operating as designed, Connor would be here alongside a human officer, whose position of authority could be leveraged to compel an interview. This is... not that.
He'll have to improvise.
The door is old and weathered. The porch, half-rotted, ancient timbers damaged by the melted snow. Connor eyes it, calculating the structural stability as he raises a hand and knocks, calling out firmly.
"Adrian Harris?"
There's a sound from inside. Several sounds, he estimates: the scuffle of movement, a graceless thud against the floor, the creak of a door further in. The probability of other humans jumps to 96%, and in the span of seconds, he's fairly sure they aren't hurrying to answer. Are they covering illicit activities? Going for weapons?
...Connor isn't here with law enforcement. Which means there's no reason to wait.
The android takes a step back, freeing one gun from its holster—and lunges back in, a precisely coordinated kick snapping the latch. The door smashes wide, and Connor darts inside, leaving the entrance clear for Abhorsen to follow.
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Sabriel stands behind Connor, loosening the straps on Saraneth but not drawing the bell yet. Having it out seems to make Connor nervouse, and she has no way of knowing if there are more living people besides Harris in the house, that might require magical incapacitation. And the Dead creature... isn't approaching the door. Well, she hasn't used any magic, so it doesn't know she's near, and Harris is probably trying to keep it hidden.
So instead, she draws her sword as Connor pulls out his gun, keeping one hand free for spellcasting, and as he charges forward, Sabriel lunges after him, eyes scanning her surroundings. The Dead creature is upstairs- can she go after them, or are there humans beside Harris than need to be dealt with?
A man lunging at her with a knife answers that question, and Sabriel raises her sword to parry the strike- and then slams her knee into his groin before shoving him back with her free hand, to take advantage of her longer weapon as he stumbles back and she tries to gauge how many people she and Connor are dealing with.
"Shit shit shit- it's the one he told us about! Get down here, now!"
She can feel the Dead creature start moving at the shouted command, and Sabriel's free hand goes for Saraneth, undoing the last few straps.
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—is swinging toward his head with a crowbar.
He ducks low, snapping off a single shot. It grazes the retreating shape in the leg, drawing a sharp cry before Connor is forced to turn his focus to his current opponent. The woman with the crowbar is short but stocky, and quick to recover from her miss. She follows her momentum forward, shoulder-checking him back against the nearest wall and jamming the sharp end of the crowbar towards his gut. Connor catches the weapon by the shaft and twists, left hand snaking back up to plant his gun against her torso.
Avoid human deaths. The parameter blinks up to fill his vision, and Connor glares, dismissing the overlay even as he twitches the barrel downward and squeezes. A bullet tears through his opponent's thigh, two centimeters left of the femoral artery. The woman spasms, dropping to the ground, and Connor stomps on her weapon hand, producing a sharp crunch and a new scream.
By now, Abhorsen is engaged with her own target—who, from the sound of it, just called for reinforcements. Connor spins the crowbar in his right hand, testing the weight as he steps neatly between his owner and her current fight.
"Abhorsen." He tips the weapon back in indication.
There are steps approaching down the stairs. They're too fast to be human.
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Sabriel gets Saraneth free just as the Dead android comes into view, and she swings the bell just as she hears a gunshot, Saraneth's booming voice not quite drowning out the sharp crack.
The Hand bends to her will easily enough, and she makes it walk towards the man with the gun as Sabriel ducks down and follows behind it, keeping a mental grip on it. The gunshots aren't a problem- they're all aimed at the chest and head- but she doesn't want it to rip the mans throat out, which is what it wants to do- it doesn't have any loyalty to these people, not with its bonds to its previous master severed.
Apparently convinced that he just hasn't shot it enough, the man keeps firing, each shot knocking the Hand back a half-step before it moves forward again, urged on by Saraneth's echoes and Sabriel's will, until the man runs out of bullets and Sabriel lunges forward, slamming the pommel of her sword into the mans hand, knocking the gun out as she kicks at his feet, trying to knock his legs out from under him as the Dead android regards them both with a hungry expression.
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"Should've stopped by sooner, plastic. We could've—"
Connor shoots the man in the foot. He crumples inward, and Connor steps close, twirling the crowbar up and in. It takes the man in the side of the jaw, and he drops, instantly unconscious.
The peal of a familiar bell echoes behind him. Connor stares firmly ahead, dropping the crowbar on the human's form and bending to scoop up his knife instead. But there's motion at the corner of his view—light, glinting off a firearm—and Connor rounds on it, his own gun raising—
—only to stall as his target's aim tracks out. Instead of aiming for Abhorsen, or himself, the returning human has trained its gun on their own reactivated machine. Or, perhaps, 'theirs' formerly. Connor watches from the periphery, brows quirking slightly as Abhorsen directs it towards Adrian Harris. The unit is an AP400 home assistant, with no programmed ability to fight... but the air of menace as it advances is hard to deny. Probably it has to do with just how many shots the unit takes while remaining standing.
A useful talent. Certainly, it's more durable than he would be. Is that why Abhorsen had claimed it? Connor shoves back the flicker of uncertainty and pulls the trigger from across the room: shattering Harris' ankle.
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"You fucking traitorous bitch! You're betraying your own kind, and for what?" It takes an effort of will not to magically silence him, but Connor does need to interrogate him.
"Speak to Harris using whatever methods you think necessary. I'll dispose of this thing and restrain the others- unless there's something else you want me to do?"
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Abhorsen's question? Is considerably further from the norm. Connor's stare lingers on her for several seconds before he turns back to the other human, expression revealing nothing at all.
"That should be fine."
Machines don't want anything. And for all her idiotic insistence on treating deviants like humans, Abhorsen has never deferred to him so thoroughly before. On the contrary, she seems entirely comfortable asserting her control... and micromanaging his tasks along the way. So is this another guilt-fueled episode?
Maybe. Or, more likely: the behavior is performative. A pretense of shared authority, to unsettle the human now screaming his contempt.
Of course, Connor is a machine. Abhorsen's property, to be used where and how she chooses. But Connor can see where this kind of act would be of use. And regardless of Abhorsen's intent, contradicting her in front of Harris would be strictly counterproductive.
"We'll take the bathroom," he declares, fist closing in the human's collar. Harris twists back, hands shoving upwards—and flitting back down with a yell, as Connor starts to drag him on that shattered ankle. The smirk Connor flashes towards Abhorsen almost looks genuine. "Easier to clean up."
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While Connor's attending to her own work, she sheaths her sword and refastens Saraneth before drawing Kibeth and letting it sound, the bell's merry marching tune only slightly disrupted by the thump of the Dead android hitting the floor as the spirit inside of it is dragged into Death without much struggle.
Her most important task done, Sabriel wraps her fingers around the bell's clapper and refastens it before it can start sounding on its own, before attending to the other two humans. The woman she deals with first- she's still conscious and only stops spitting profanities when Sabriel very deliberately puts her hand on the hilt of her sword, and Sabriel frowns, looking around the room for something to tie her up with, before heading into another room to continue her search, only to freeze when she steps inside, cold horror in her stomach.
It's full of dead androids and tubing- and the faint whirring of a pump that's still working to drain the bodies of thirium- and blue blood, stacked along the wall in containers of varying sizes.
Sabriel goes very, very still, then looks around, her attention narrowing in on the one android that isn't dead yet- but is instead tied up, with a look of hope that quickly turns to despair and resignation when he realizes she's human.
She recognizes the face- it's the same as the WR600 the school bought to replace the retiring human groundskeeper. It's a face she remembers walking by many times, but never speaking to. The last time she remembers seeing it- him, was when he had helped the teachers barricade most of the student body into the North Tower.
Sabriel can hear her pulse pounding in her ears as she shuts off the pump, and she finds more of the same cord they used to tie up the androids, which she takes into the other room the restrain the others, along with two shirts which should be good enough as a makeshift bandage and a gag. She's not going to waste magic on those people if she can help it, and she's not sure if they'll go to the authorities or not, and she's in no mood to listen to a necromancer's lackey. Especially one involved in something like this.
"I'll untie you," she tells the android, "I just need to do something first."
Slightly muffled by the walls, both of them can hear Harris screaming, and the android tries to say something through his gag. It might just be that he's restrained, but something about his movements seems sluggish.
Tying up the two humans goes easily enough, and Sabriel leaves both of them where they fell, bound hand and foot- and it the woman's case, bandaged and gagged.
Sabriel's about tho head back into the room to get the android free and out of there, but Connor's left the door to the bathroom open, and she can hear Harris talking- so she steps forward, curious.
1/2
The human's expression is a study in apoplectic rage, but there's a glint in his eye as he stares at Connor. Anti-android sentiments. Probability of attack: 67%. He thinks he can overpower the RK800. Connor raises his eyebrows, voice calm and pleasant: a smile that doesn't touch his face. "I really wouldn't try."
The human doesn't take advice from plastic scraps. And Connor should have stayed on the trash pile where he belongs. Harris assumes that he's deviant, Connor gathers from the ranting, and something sticks in his vocalizer at the thought. When Harris lunges upward, swinging out with his good hand, the android dislocates his shoulder with a ruthless, rigid pop.
That's the first scream.
He doesn't bother correcting the human's error. As loathsome as it might be, the belief is useful: reinforcing the idea that Connor has no oversight to be concerned with. In reality, while Abhorsen had encouraged him to use any method, Connor doubts her sudden ruthlessness will last. He needs to limit his techniques to ones that won't prompt interference... or extract the needed information before she returns.
He gets to work.
2/2
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