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

"Of course."

The smirk Connor had worn through the interrogation has vanished, expression reshaped to a more usual neutrality. Still, there's a spark of the same satisfaction, movements smoothly efficient as he stops in front of Abhorsen to report.

"Their next rendezvous is in two days. I have the site, and a list of relevant accomplices."

The other human waste who'd decided the necromancer would be their salvation. Connor lets his gaze wander across the room, stopping for habitual analysis of point after point. He takes in the scuffed equipment and old tubing. The high-powered pump and crude restraints. How unsophisticated. But effective, apparently— some of the old thirium worked into the walls and floorboards dates back over a year and a half. Well before the public advent of deviancy.

His eyes flick from the deactivated chassis to the android standing by his owner. WR600. Deviant. He lifts a hand, gesturing curtly towards it.

"What's that for?"

"Wonderful," Sabriel's face breaks into a genuine smile. Two days. Enough time to come up with a plan, but not so long to wait. Perhaps she ought to alter the human's memory though- the last thing they need is to walk into an ambush. They can talk about it once the other android is out of earshot, along with all the other details they need to focus on.

"He's going to deliver a message. One that will hopefully make our work easier."

The last thing she needs is androids who don't understand the supernatural putting themselves in danger, and putting even more bodies and souls in the necromancer's grasp.

A message. It's not the first time Abhorsen's used that phrasing—and with about the same measure of naive optimism. He glances over the other android (now eying him with an uncertain, wary frown), attention lingering on the piece of paper in its hand. How literal of her.

"...Jericho."

The word is precisely spoken, expression flat. It still manages to sound like an invective.

"I'd prefer to keep them out of our hair, and not acting as fuel for the- for our enemies." Connor won't be happy about it no matter what she says, but she might as well offer some explanation. And this one has the benefit of being true, even if it isn't the whole story. Not that she can explain the whole story with the WR600 there.

"Remember, I came here for a reason, and it wasn't to get involved in politics. I want to deal with the situation as quickly as possible, then go back to the Old Kingdom." Once she's stopped the necromancer- and placed some sort of binding on all the easy paths out of Death the Ancelstierrians have created.

Oh, so she is censoring herself. A little. Connor wonders just how long the effort will last this time.

"Obviously." He keeps his voice as bland as his expression. "Uninvolved."

Connor's eyes linger casually on the letter. Addressed to Ancelstierre's most notorious terrorist group, held by a malfunctioning machine she was legally required to turned over for destruction. And, of course, penned by Abhorsen herself.

How many felonies count as involved?

"I just- want them to stay out of my way." That isn't too much to ask. For them to just- ignore her. Ancelstierrians often ignored what they couldn't understand. Hopefully their creations wouldn't differ much in that regard.

Sabriel gives the WR600 an apologetic look.

"The less you know about this, the happier you'll be." There's something ominous in the way she says it, but it's less of a threat and more of a warning.

"Connor, perhaps we should carry on our conversation elsewhere?" Somewhere they wouldn't be overheard.

His brows raise, skeptical. "Is it staying?"

Certainly, the WR doesn't look like it wants to. Its eyes, already flitting uneasily between machine and human, widen noticeably at the suggestion, and it takes a step back toward the door, murmuring "No, I—"

Connor doesn't acknowledge it. "There's an upstairs."

The android shifts, nervously shoving the note into one of his pockets.

He clearly wants to leave, and Sabriel can't blame him. So she doesn't call after him as he edges out of the room, or slam the front door behind him as he leaves.

Instead, she turns to Connor as the door closes, her expression intent. Time to focus on the real reason she's here.

"Were you able to get an estimate of the forces at his disposal- living and Dead? How many bodies did they bring to him?"

Edited 2019-07-21 05:52 (UTC)

Connor's eyes do track the deviant—and return to Abhorsen, silently questioning, when it vanishes out the room's door. He can stop it, if she did want something. Or if she'd reconsidered her absurd plan.

Apparently not. He steps over to the room's exit, glancing outside to the open hall and restrained humans before shutting the door.

"Harris and his associates delivered eleven bodies at their last meeting yesterday," he reports, hands clasping behind his back. "He observed ten more reactivated androids already present at the site—in addition to the one he was given."

Connor's eyes drift to the bodies in the corner. Eight, so far. The WR who left would've made nine. "He was encouraged to scale up his reclamation. Our target's other allies may have been more efficient than he was."

"Any idea how many humans he's recruited?" If he only has a few allies- they could be dealing with dozens of Dead. If he has many, or they've done better than Harris in procuring bodies, they might be dealing with hundreds- and possibly, many more grave dirt bridges, making them far more mobile.

"Or where they've been placing grave dirt bridges? That should give us some idea of where the necromancer's trying to target" Sabriel's initial assumption is that he'll start with isolated groups of humans and androids, targeting larger and larger gatherings as his numbers grow, and the deviant and human armies become less of a threat to him.

They need to stop him before then.

"Without more sources, it's difficult to say." Harris had been a lackey, at best—and certainly not included in any larger scale plans.

"I extracted four names. Two are confirmed to be working with our target, and were present at the landfill. The others are active red ice dealers in the same area. Harris thinks would have involved themselves once they heard about the opportunity."

Depending on how far Abhorsen is willing to go, he's certain that pursuing these could net them more.

"As for the... dirt," a hand reaches into his jacket pocket, fishing out Harris' phone. Connor's LED spins yellow, and the device activates: not to a keycode prompt or open menu, but a navigation app, displaying a list of recently searched coordinates. "Here."

A moment later, Sabriel's own phone pings with a new message. RK800_313_248_317-53 has sent her an image file: a map, with the locations overlaid.

"And I'm sure they could give us other names- but the more we go after, the more likely it is that the necromancer will realize what we're doing and call off the meeting- do you think it's worth it?" Knowing what they're up against would be useful- but if they scare the necromancer off, they'd lose a valuable chance to end things once and for all.

When she gets the text, Sabriel nods, and opens the map. She's not entirely familiar with the city's layout, but she recognizes where the landfill is... and some of the street names are familiar from her and Connor's hasty escape from the androids. She looks for other landmarks, places she knows are under human or android control, and frowns.

Harris seems to have been helping make a path from the landfill to the parts of the city controlled by deviants. But there's a handful of sites in the parts of the city controlled by humans- either her estimation of the boundaries is wrong, or the man they're after wants to give his forces access to both parts of the city.

Sabriel looks up, a small, grateful smile starting to spread across her features.

"Good work. This should give us some idea of where the Dead can and can't go"

Where the dead can go. Where their target will be. And some leads to follow in the meantime. It has been a productive morning. Connor's eyes flit to Abhorsen, expression blank, but after a moment, he returns a nod to her acknowledgement. As for the question...

"That depends."

Perhaps unusually, Connor's tone carries no particular malice. But there's a clinical, curious glint behind his eyes. He casts out with one hand: toward the door, and the collection of injured criminals beyond.

"This operation is effectively disabled—but if you let them go, they'll talk. Depending on who they speak to and how soon, any ambush might already be ruined."

They can't stay here to watch them. And Abhorsen's restraints aren't likely to last days. Connor raises his eyebrows, hand turning up. "Taking out our targets allies would be useful."

If Abhorsen is willing to make sure that they stay down.

Avoid human deaths. She'd set the objective. She can rescind it at any time.

"I could make them forget this, change their memories to make them think someone else attacked them- if we take the thirium, it will look like a rival gang decided to take their supply." Or that they were attacked by androids, but Sabriel's not sure if Jericho would see that as a provocation.

In theory, this would also lead to less chance of a police presence, or the necromancer interrogating their spirits to find out what had happened. But Sabriel wasn't sure how much the necromancer would care- he was probably occupied with his own plans, and the police were probably busy as well- and would also assume androids or a rival gang were behind this, if they bothered to investigate at all.

"But next time... If they're willingly serving the necromancer- do what you think is necessary, even if it means killing them. In the Old Kingdom, collaborating with a necromancer or Free magic sorcerer is a serious crime."

"Understood."

There's no smirk on Connor's face, but something like it sounds in his reply: bright and quick and only a little malicious in his satisfaction. He does understand. She recognizes the advantages, but isn't willing to accept the responsibility of telling him to kill. That's fine by Connor. His judgement is much more reliable.

Her current plans aren't ones he'd considered in his own analysis. Connor dismisses the automatic replay of the last time she'd intended to wipe memories, and considers the application at hand.

"...The evidence won't line up," he points out, "though they might not notice. But unless you change most of the last week, they'll still go back to helping your opponent."

Can she change that much?

Sabriel frowns- Connor has made some good points. She looks at the bodies, at the expressions they'd been frozen in at the moment they'd died.

She can't in good conscience say that Harris and his group don't deserve to die. But something in her recoils at the thought of killing them when they're already tied up.

"I doubt they will- Humans tend to see what they think is there, or far more Ancelstierrians would know about the Dead and magic. Besides, if they notice anything odd, what do you think is more likely- they'd thing their minds were playing tricks on them, that the people who attacked them were lying about their real intentions- or that someone magically altered their memories?"

"Besides, the necromancer can't heal them. It's not in the nature of his magic. They'll be dealing with a concussion, gunshot wounds and broken fingers, and and everything else you did to Harris. I don't think they'll be able to assist the necromancer for the next several days, and once they are, he'll be dead." Or probably longer, in Harris's case. Sabriel can't say she's particularly sorry about that.

The necromancer can't heal. And apparently Abhorsen can't change memories—not human ones, at least—for the full duration of the week. Connor notes both facts for future reference, and adds several questions to his growing list.

"If all goes according to plan," he mutters in reply. Still, Abhorsen isn't entirely wrong. The probability of interference from these humans was low. The risk they'd pose if they did try was lower.

"It should." It certainly didn't with Kerrigor, but this is just a necromancer, not the greatest of the Greater Dead and a rogue member of the royal family. It'll be fine- she or Connor will kill the necromancer, dispose of the Dead he's made, and she'll lay down a binding on the landfill and never need to go this far south again.

"I'll get started on changing their memories, then I'll have them go to sleep while you get rid of the thirium so it looks like one of their competitors did this. Unless there's anything else I should know?"

Get rid of the thirium. He'd suspected that would be his job from the moment she'd broken down the tasks, and Connor's lips press together, swallowing an irritated comment. Cleanup isn't part of his function... but it's a necessity of her current plan. And he can't exactly—

Anything else?

Connor stills. There was the recognition displayed by Harris' friend. The last question he'd asked, in a blood-stained bathtub filled with the reek of human fear. And the answer Connor had received in turn. Abhorsen's enemy had shown his lackies images of her. Footage recorded in Cyberlife tower.

Abhorsen... should know. It's relevant. He knows it is. But the words stick in his throat, something cold and painful interfering. Was Cyberlife... opposed to Connor's mission?

Why had they sold him to her if they were?

Probably, it's a mistake. Hearsay. A false lead, or intercepted data. Just because Abhorsen was technologically inept didn't mean that all her enemies were, too. He shouldn't assume the situation—and certainly, he shouldn't confuse his owner with misleading data that had yet to be confirmed.

"...Nothing else, no." Connor turns to the stored liquid. "I'll get started."

[So̶ftẁa̛r̨e̴ In̵s̷ta҉b̨i̵lit͜ý ^]

"Very well then- meet me outside when you're done," Sabriel tells him, before going to focus on her own work.

She recites the same story to each of the three as Charter marks circle their heads- the same description of their attackers, and what they did- she adds a few extra details with Harris, an entirely different set of questions than what he was actually asked. Each of them repeats the story back to her with a glazed expression, and in turn she sends each of them to sleep before their dazed expressions- when they wake up, it will be like they never met her- or Connor. Then she heads outside, her expression pensive.

Next time, she might not be able to get through a confrontation like that without killing anyone. Not if she and Connor are massively outnumbered.

It takes five trips to haul the thirium downstairs. There's a 37% chance of being spotted if he uses the storm drain out front, so Connor exits through the back, scaling a fence to dig a small hole in the neighbor's flower garden. The dirt is loose-packed, and absorbs the liquid easily enough as he pours out one gallon after the next.

There had been eight bodies in the house. Nineteen, with the last delivery. Harvested by one group of humans, in the span of a few days. If Abhorsen's target kept up his work, that would make hundreds of deviants off the streets.

Negligible, with hundreds of thousands out there.

Abhorsen seemed to be expecting conquest—or mass murder, at the very least. But Harris talked about her enemy as someone who could solve the deviant condition. And the android they'd found here had followed orders.

Cyberlife... might be interested in that.

Connor doesn't have enough data. Not on their goals, and not on his target's. He doesn't have any evidence a link exists. He glowers at the blue-stained dirt and fills the hole, stashing the empty containers in a nearby shed. By all appearances, the neighbor's house had been evacuated days ago. It would be weeks more before its occupants returned.

He climbs the fence. Kicks some snow across the prints he's left behind. Connor slips back into Harris' house, making a quick detour to wash up in the bathroom before he heads out front.

Abhorsen's waiting. "Where next?"

Sabriel gives a start, then frowns, ticking off several options with her fingertips, and shivering a little in the cold. The wind's picked up again.

"I suppose- I should get something to eat, and we need to decide what to do next. We know where and when we can confront the necromancer- should we scope out the site ahead of time? Are there any supplies you want to get before then? Or should we go after more of his allies, and risk the element of surprise at the meeting?" Sabriel frowns. The meeting is their best lead, and she doesn't want to ruin it by being too aggressive.

"My preference is to visit the place where the meeting will happen before we do anything else, but- I'd like your input. You're the one who found all this information."

Scouting. Supplies. Or pursuit of new targets. They're all valid objectives, and Connor tilts his head, considering. Her insistence on his input is new, and slightly out of place... but not something to discourage. Not when it might be crucial for the mission later.

"Scouting out the meeting site sounds useful," he agrees. "We should be careful, though. There's a chance our target may have the area watched."

Or, be there already.

"It's possible- either by living allies or Dead servants." Most likely the latter- the necromancer seems to have put his living allies to more active uses than merely guarding things, but if the guards are Dead, they'll have an advantage by going in daylight.

"Where is this place, anyway? Is it inside a building, or out in the open?"

"Neither, I believe."

Connor's LED spins yellow once, then twice—searching for images online. Unsurprisingly, there isn't much past barbed wire and hastily built walls. Human media had been excluded from the sites during their operation, and they'd had much more eventful stories to chase since.

"Recall Center Number Two. It's near the northern edge of the city."

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