bindsthedead: (art-explaining)
Sabriel ([personal profile] 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.
313_248_317_60: (Headtilt)

1/2

[personal profile] 313_248_317_60 2019-07-13 08:55 am (UTC)(link)
Their target's police records place him at 5'11" and 182 pounds. Connor privately corrects the figure—185.2, as he drags the human into the bathroom and over the short lip that sets aside the shower floor. Mess appropriately contained, he steps back to analyze.
Harris, Adrian
Born 12/10/02 // Unemployed
Criminal record: Narcotics possession and distribution (4 arrests)
Evaporated thirium flecks the human's hands and clothing. His right hand is starting to swell: a fracture in the third metacarpal. His shattered ankle continues bleeding. If no bandage or tourniquet is put in place, the blood loss will reach dangerous levels in approximately 48 minutes. Plenty of time.

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.