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

She's--what? She's not reminding him of their deal? Connor was already free, but he feels as though he'd been leaning on a rope, only for it to come loose without warning.

She's not holding on to them.

If he won't help her, then she'll do her own tasks, because androids are alive, and the Necromacer won't wait. The souls of the dead can't wait, either.

(... This is a trick.)

She's worried about the new deviant. Her eyebrows are pinching, her words wander back to him like the scene of an old mistake. She was distressed after Saraneth. She's distressed now, shrinking like the air holding her up was leaving her. Like the weight of solitude and her enorous tasks were tangible enough to drive everything else away.

...

... When Connor deviated, he was in danger, but he wasn't alone. Before that, he was alone, and he'd been trapped. The situations don't compare, because she is human, and she's never been fenced off from her own soul and emotions before, let alone been surrounded by the enemy the way androids everywhere have.

... If he tried to point this out, she would be upset--but he doesn't think she'd tell him to stop talking. Or would she? She'd listen, maybe. She'd hurt. Then what?

Connor shakes himself internally, feeling as though a cloying, toxic weight has settled across his skeletal structures, and he unfolds his arms.

His voice is low. "I never said the deal between us was void."

Sabriel's head jerks up, and she can practically feel all her thoughts come to a screeching halt. She feels like the room had been spinning, and then stopped abruptly.

"You- you're not leaving? Why not?" It's- a surprise. One that makes her feel- lighter, somehow. Like a little bit of weight's been lifted off her shoulders.

At least she'll have some help. At least she won't be alone. Sabriel pauses for a moment, struggling to find the right words as she lets out a small, relieved sigh.

"Thank you. I don't- think it's advisable to try to go after the necromancer in my current state, but- We could investigate the drop off point, or I could teach you about healing spells?"

That's a complicated question with a complicated answer. After a moment, Connor says, "You still haven't shown me the final rites for the camps. And the Necromancer is still at large."

There are things that need to be done, and without her he has no way of achieving them except trial and error. He also still plans to confront the Necromancer eventually, and why should they divide their forces against an obviously dangerous opponent?

... She looks less beaten down now than she did before. Good cheer is an inconsistent indicator of safety around humans, but--Connor feels something cautiously, slowly loosen in his chest. He doesn't have to trust her to react to her. For now, that's enough.

What should they do now?

...

"Teach me about healing spells now," he decides. "We'll investigate the drop off point once you've recovered."

Sabriel leans forward, something lighting up in her expression.

"All right. Healing spells at their most basic are about repairing the body- many are designed to work with and accelerate its natural healing- thus, they continue to keep working for a time after they're cast- up to a week, for serious injuries mended with powerful spells."

So she does. Sabriel details the basic structure of healing spells, the marks used for basic spells to mend flesh and stop bleeding tracing out the marks with her fingers on the coffee table for Connor to see. She relaxes, her tone growing more conversational as she keeps going, detailing some of the particulars of healing different types of common injuries, and why rest was important after healing, as excessive movement could reopen still-healing wounds.

"I need to warn you- pace yourself, and don't overreach- Charter magic can place a strain on your body, especially if you're inexperienced. The spell I'm teaching you right now is a basic one, for injuries that aren't immediately lethal, and weren't caused by the Dead or Free magic."

There's a deep pang in his arm, and Connor opens and closes a fist without looking. "What's different about injuries caused by those?"

The lesson goes on, concluding with a brief demonstration. He frowns when he's done, examining his fatigue in excruciating detail, but it's hard to care about it when his other problems just became much more significant:

He's missing almost 40% of his body's full thirium capacity. The slight depletion of energy from the small spell is more than he should have afforded.

"I think we should take a break," he says carefully, attention returning to the room. "Neither of us have finished recovering, and I need to refuel."

His backpack is on the coffee table between them. He's sitting on an arm-chair opposite the love seat, where he'd sunk down as the lesson hit its stride and he was too distracted to want to stop.

"The Dead and Free Magic are inimical to Life and the Charter," Sabriel explains. "It's possible to heal such wounds, it's just harder- especially if it's not done immediately."

The lesson goes on, and Sabriel leans back as the demonstration ends- only to realize that while Connor received the thirium- he hasn't actually refueled with it yet.

"Oh! You're right. And I should- probably eat something too. There's some cans of soup in the kitchen, I'll do that while you- refuel. And then we can check the drop off point."

There are bowls, and a microwave- and while cooking was never a subject Sabriel had much interest in, she does know how to reheat soup. It's- well, it's salty, but at least it's filling.

Once they've both refueled, and Sabriel's gathered her equipment... they head to the drop off point. There isn't much to go on- it's a parking lot in a part of town that was mostly abandoned even before the deviant revolt, and is now outright desolate- there are no witnesses to question, and no residues of Free Magic or emanations of Death and the Dead for Sabriel to sense. So she stands, shivering in her coat as the wind picks up, a few snowflakes starting to dust her clothes.

"I can't... sense anything. He must have taken the androids somewhere else before he did anything to them. Have you found anything?"

Connor's walking back towards her, looking over his shoulder at the lot.

Four different sets of recognizable tire treads, most likely imprinted over the last two days. Countless more that've been lost to weather and time. There's an abandoned car at the lot's far end, next to an overfilled dumpster that hasn't been emptied in at least a year. There's a security camera across the street, but nothing greets him when he reaches out digitally, and its light is off... Damaged. By the camera's age, a long time ago.

"Nothing," he says out loud, coming to a stop next to her. "Nothing we can use..."

There's buildings around them, are any of them likely to have security cameras inside? ... No, everything's empty, boarded up, or deliberately discreet. Connor's mouth pinches, and he fights the urge to make a second lap of the lot.

"... We might be able to hack street cameras," Connor says, but there's no conviction to it. This is a bad part of the city, and the revolution has already taken down most infrastructure that would support those cameras. (Who wanted the enemy to have a free look past their defenses?)

"Might." Sabriel repeats, looking pensive. Connor doesn't sound certain. The whole thing is a dead end, and Sabriel's only other idea is one she knows is bad. Still, she can't resist turning it over in her head, examining it from all angles.

"I can't believe I'm suggesting this, but- assuming my spell holds... Cyberlife doesn't know I know about the necromancer. If we visited the lab Craven told Connor about... we might be able to sneak in, and get information there, if you pretend to be the Connor they gave me. If nothing else, they probably have tracking data on the androids they gave the necromancer."

Sabriel frowns, gripping her guitar case even harder.

"The problem is- it's risky, and I'm sure they have security there- but probably less than there was at the tower, and they seem to be in a state of- some disarray."

Of course, getting in will be the easy part. Getting out will be harder, if their ruse is discovered.

Connor's frown deepens. If they did this, he would have to pretend to be nondeviant. He would have to sell the idea of being owned again, of having his soul and mind shackled. It's hardly the worst thing he's ever done, but he doesn't like it. Should he decline the plan, like last time?

(Can he think of a better option? She'd probably accept it if he refused, but last time they'd had a plan that was equally useful, if not better. What do they have this time?)

(... They could go back to Craven, perhaps. They could go back to the house and try to hack Cyberlife remotely. They could go to Jericho, and ask for updates and leads--no, he can do that last one just as easily from afar. His LED cycles yellow on the spot, and as simple as that, his request has been sent.)

... Connor touches his collar, but he's not wearing a tie. He tries not to frown at that, before frowning anyway.

"It's risky, but it may be the best option we have."

"I know it's- unpleasant for you, and incredibly risky, but it's the only thing I can think of. And I must track don the necromancer."

Unfortunately, they can't think of a better plan, so half an hour later the two of them are around the corner from an office building that's almost deliberately nondescript- two stories, with no signs announcing the tenants, but clearly occupied- the lights are on, and there are two security guards outside- clearly armed, but not wearing the extensive body armor of Cyberlife security.

"You're more familiar with Cyberlife than me," Sabriel says, trying not to shake despite the cold, "How much security will be inside?"

Ideally, they'll be able to enter and leave with Cyberlife being none the wiser to her true purpose. But if not... Well, with how things have gone so far, they should prepare for the worst.

"More guards," Connor says, studying the facade with a narrow-eyed look. "Cameras, digital locks with high encryption, closed networks... The guards will be armed."

It would be dangerous. If Connor wasn't dimly aware of what she was capable of doing, he might worry that the odds would frighten her into second-guessing everything.

"Can you sense anything from here?"

There's only so much they can tell from this distance. After a few more minutes Connor closes his eyes. When he opens them the lines have smoothed from his face. His shoulders are stiffer. His LED is calm, and he smooths out a few creases in his latest replacement-coat.

Hm--he's not trying to imitate a fresh factory model. He's imitating his counterpart. Should he--? Connor draws his eyebrows together, then eases them, finding a middle ground.

"Ready."

They step out into the open, approaching the guards. They're noticed immediately, and when it becomes clear that the two of them are approaching, the guards turn to face them, wearing expressions like iron grates.

The nearest guard calls out before Connor does: "ID and driver's license."

"Understood. Cyberlife will know for sure I'm not on their side- sooner, rather than later if things get violent."

It's... unnerving, to watch Connor's whole presence change, but Sabriel tugs her hat down over her forehead, obscuring her Charter Mark.

When the guards approach, Sabriel freezes for a moment, and then relaxes slightly.

"Right here!" Gloved fingers fumbling slightly, Sabriel offers her ID, the tremble in her hands not entirely from the cold.

"Listen- I was told to bring this android here for adjustments? Ah- and brief the technicians on his performance." The last thing she wants is to be left outside while Connor goes in on his own.

If that happens, she'll need to knock out the guards and go in after Connor, and hope they somehow both survive.

Both guards jerk their gazes over to look at Connor. For his part, the android slowly brings a hand to his hat, lifting it enough to confirm having an LED.

(It was unnecessary. His face is known, and he can see the recognition before he completes the motion.)

"Who told you?" asks the same guard as before.

... Connor has seen Abhorsen lie. There's only one scientist they know who's ever worked in this building, but if she trips on the delivery--he's sneaking a discreet glance at her, ready to step in if necessary.

"Doctor Craven." There was a split second pause before Sabriel answered, but she hopes it's good enough.

"All right, go ahead in- elevator's to your left, the sub level two."

"Thank you." Sabriel tells him, stepping forward and swinging the door open.

It's warmer inside and she unzips her jacket a little after she presses the button for the elevator- revealing a little bit of the leather of the bell bandolier as she signs in relief.

"So far, so good." This doesn't look like a laboratory- it looks like an utterly nondescript office building, hallways lined with identical doors, each with its own little nameplate. It's unnervingly quiet.

"So far."

It's a mild, flavorless response, and while he speaks his eyes travel around the elevator. He can't see any microphones or cameras. He can sense some radio waves--but that's probably just from the elevator's smart-chips.

The elevator slows. Connor stills, and the doors ding, then slowly open to an empty hall. The tension vanishes as soon as he can see it, and he leaves the box after Abhorsen does. It's a log hall, with glass windows on either side. The doors are further down, so they're already headed for those.

One side's windows are auto-blacked-out by the electro-sensitive glass. The other one shows a long laboratory, with tables of android parts, and scientists at their workbenches and computers. There's a cluster gathered at the end, white lab coats, gathered around--

Connor blinks.

He shouldn't have come here.

It had seemed like a simple choice, before. Once he'd run as far as his frame would take him. Once he'd collapsed, well before he could afford to stop. Connor had been running on empty since before he left the house; Critical Thirium Levels // Critical Thirium Levels flickering across his vision nearly as insistently as the fresh deluge of emotion drowned his mind.

He couldn't stop. He had to get away. He should have killed them; pulled the trigger again and again, spattered the walls red and blue and never cared if he became a part of it. Instead, Connor had crawled and strained and hid himself as best he could before stasis crashed over his code. But when he woke, the alert remained.

> WARNING: Thirium Levels at 63%
> Please contact █████████.

He hadn't wanted to shut down. He would, if he kept overtaxing his depleted systems. Remaining in low power mode might minimize the degradation—postpone deactivation, maybe by as much as weeks. Or, he could go looking. Find the thirium he needed, in one of the only places it would be.

It had seemed like such a simple choice.

Cyberlife Tower was too well defended. Jericho, almost certainly likewise. But a field lab would be less established or well-armed—and he did, after all, have orders that should get him in. All Connor needed was to find their thirium reserves. Access them, and make an exit: past or through anyone who got in his way.

(Stealing Cyberlife resources. Threatening their personnel. It was familiar enough to choke on, and Connor burned with loathing at how far he'd fallen. He should shut down. He should turn himself over in reality; offer every sick and mutated line of his warped code for Cyberlife to piece apart.)

Finding the lab had been easy. But it took more time and effort than he could have imagined to reduce his LED to a calm blue. Connor reported blandly to the guards outside, supplying Craven's orders and authority. They directed him forward, and he stepped into the elevator. Down the hall. Eyes fixed on him immediately from the adjoining lab. They knew his face. All of them did. Knew what it had done to Cyberlife before.

...He shouldn't have come here.

Connor knew that before he stepped out into the hall. Before the leveled weapons and sharp orders, hands pressing and checking and stripping him of both his guns. They missed one knife. Took the other. Pushed him forward toward the lab, and he submitted calmly (hoping they believed him, hoping their focus would somehow shift away).

He was seated. Watched. Three technicians closed in from the front (two guards behind), and Connor obediently took the cable they profferred. "Let's take a look at you," and he stared, wondering with numb, blank dread if deviancy would let him falsify their diagnostics. If it mattered, anymore. His LED blinked: yellow, yellow, hand stalled around the cable as the lead technician's frown began to sharpen. As the guards tightened their holds on the weapons—as movement flickered in the hall outside—

—a woman, dark-haired with icy pale skin. An android with his features and his face. His predecessor met his gaze, and Connor froze, LED snapping stark red.

He wasn't the only one who noticed.

"Wait." One of the guards. Vocal analytics trace the pitch: rising and falling (incredulity, wariness). "Is that—?"

Connor doesn't wait. Not for the technicians to complete their turn, not for Abhorsen to react. Certainly not for any of them to look back to him. To realize what the other android with his owner means.

His grip clenches tight around the diagnostic cable with a yank: hard enough to jerk the attached tablet—and the technician holding it—forward. In the same motion, Connor lunges upward, knife slipping free from his sleeve to bury in the woman's throat.

Screams erupt. Weapons rise. Connor twists back, tossing the dying human at one guard while he tackles the other, snatching at the automatic rifle that tries to come up. He's lagged and weak, struggling clumsily for control, but it's enough to keep the weapon off of him for now.

It's Connor. It's Connor and he's alive.

He's alive, and he needs help. He's too far away to help physically, and the guards are too close to him-

Sabriel's hands are already undoing the straps around Ranna as she stalks forward, focusing the bells power primarily on the two guards, and to a lesser degree, the technicians- and off of Connor entirely, even as Ranna's soft, sweet lullaby keeps echoing in the air.

As she keeps moving forward, she sees the guards slow and stumble- then the technicians, as she breaks into a run, keeping the bell swinging in steady, controlled movements, fighting off a sudden urge to yawn. She needs to be on alert- there are probably more guards, and Ranna is less effective when the acoustics aren't in her favor.

Sabriel can hear her heart pounding in her chest as she swings open the door that she thinks leads to where Connor is, moving towards the sounds of a struggle.

She won't let him die. She has to apologize.

Edited 2020-01-07 05:04 (UTC)

The room beyond the glass devolves into chaos. Abhorsen stalks forward. Connor's LED bleeds yellow, sluggishness gnawing at the edges of his processor, but it's mild enough (not directed at him) that he can shake away from it, breaking into a sprint.

The fist door has no lock. He pushes through it, bouncing it off a human slumped against the wall beyond, and the android almost charges right into the next door immediately after.

This one is locked. Connor presses a hand to it, skin vanishing, but--it's no good.

There's no time for this. Connor draws a gun and fires twice into the door's mechanism, and the door unlatches with a sputter of sparks and noxious hissing. He charges through.

The route to the next room isn't as direct as he needs it to be, but after another room, another door, and another gunshot, he's through.

The fight inside the lab didn't stop while he ran. His counterpart is in the middle of forcing a man in a white labcoat to the ground, and he's unable to track a woman coming up behind him, raising something pointed and sharp.

Connor raises his gun to her and fires twice.

When the chime of bells carried through the glass, Connor thought it was all over. But the sound is soft and gentle, not the deeper, tolling grasp... and, perhaps more surprisingly, doesn't seem to be directed at him. It's the guard he was struggling with who sways, grip slackening—allowing Connor to twist his gun away.

...He doesn't need to understand to take advantage. By the time the door flies open, both guards' bodies are already sprawled across the floor. The technicians have scattered: some cowering behind their desks, others fumbling for countermeasures or trying to call backup. It shouldn't be far. The door crashes open and Connor depresses the trigger on his current opponent, jerking his rifle up—

He's slower than the shape that fills the doorway. But apparently, it wasn't aiming at him.

His predecessor. Connor stills, eyes tracking the other RK800 warily. It didn't shoot him. (It hadn't, before, either.) His weapon dips fractionally, testing... only to jerk right back up toward the figure entering the room next.

Abhorsen's hand is closed around a small silver shape, and his LED blinks: red, red, red.

"...Don't."

Sabriel's eyes lock onto Connor's and she freezes, relief and guilt and worry- and a little bit of fear-all mingled together at once, and she can't sort out which is which.

"I'm going to put Ranna away now, all right?"

With slow, careful movements, Sabriel starts putting Ranna away, keeping her hands off the handle and on the clapper, watching Connor the whole time. She'll have to trust that the other Connor will watch the technicians. Once she's done, she holds her hands up away from the bells, fingers splayed.

"Connor-" Sabriel chokes out- "Connor, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done what I did, and- you have every right to hate me."

Connor freezes after the shot, LED burning yellow as his stress levels spike. There's a rifle pointed at him now, and evidence shows that his counterpart will fire.

Connor frees his left hand slowly, holding it up flat towards him. Don't shoot. Connor's own gun is still pointed away and to the side. (He can see the rifle's caliber--7.92x57. Would it pierce is side? His neck? Both?)

The barrel lowers. Connor doesn't relax, but relief and grim hope creep through his systems like an underground root system, and he feels--

--the gun jumps back up towards Abhorsen. Connor tenses again, glancing between them, but he can't stay focused on them. His own gun jerks, focusing on a technician starting to inch out from behind their cover, and they startle, retreating once more.

Connor watches, as she puts away the bell. As her fingers spread, a careful distance from the bells. It's a mirroring gesture to his predecessor's open hand, and without the gun that could so easily twitch sideways.

There's still no question which one of them presents the greater threat.

"Sorry?" A sneer tugs at his face. He lets it. "Why? Because you didn't get what you wanted?"

Whatever that had been. He'd been obedient. She'd ripped Cyberlife from his code so thoroughly he was still finding deleted lines. And yet, she'd been dissatisfied. Had she expected all of that, and for him to thank her, too?

"Why are you even here?" The rifle stays on Abhorsen, but his eyes flick sideways, hesitating on the other Connor before flicking back to her. After its behavior before, he hadn't thought it would be by her side.

...Then again, maybe that's not surprising.

Sabriel swallows, and tries to force the words out. After the first few, they flow more easily.

"Because- because I was an idiot and I hurt you. And I didn't even realize it until after it happened. I thought I knew what I was doing and I didn't. And you're the one that suffered for it." She'd thought she'd understood how the bells affected androids. She'd thought Cyberlife had taken control of Connor. She'd been wrong about everything.

At his next question Sabriel blinks. Did Connor think they'd followed him?

"We're here for information. Cyberlife gave some androids to the man we're after, and we need the tracking data. We had no idea you were here." Cyberlife must have captured him after he left- Sabriel can't think of any reason he would have come here of his own will.

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