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.
youcantkillme: (Who is that dog)

[personal profile] youcantkillme 2020-01-08 03:53 am (UTC)(link)
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.
313_248_317_60: (Fire)

[personal profile] 313_248_317_60 2020-01-08 04:56 am (UTC)(link)
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."
youcantkillme: (Frown)

[personal profile] youcantkillme 2020-01-08 06:25 am (UTC)(link)
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.
313_248_317_60: (You've been a great disappointment)

[personal profile] 313_248_317_60 2020-01-08 03:40 pm (UTC)(link)
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.
youcantkillme: (Red LED)

[personal profile] youcantkillme 2020-01-09 03:14 am (UTC)(link)
Connor's LED burns, but he pushes it all back as far as possible, because now is't the time. They need to leave, or they'll become trapped or worse.

(His counterpart isn't helping. Neither is Abhorsen. It's up to him.)


There's one stairwell leading out on his mental floorplan. The guards outside may have sealed it at the sound of gunshots. They also might be coming down to deal with them personally, or maybe even both cases at once. If he couldn't hack the security door in the lab outside, could he disable a heavy blast door if one blocked their escape? Could he shoot it open as easily? ... Unlikely. That means--

A human across the room has been inching from their hiding place at the sound of arguing, but when they get too bold Connor fires a shot that grazes the cabinet they're hiding behind. The man makes a high pitched sound and vanishes again.

"Stay where you are or I won't miss," Connor orders.

Escape. He doesn't want to do this--does't want to do this here. How will they escape?
313_248_317_60: (I know what I 𝙖𝙢)

[personal profile] 313_248_317_60 2020-01-09 04:16 am (UTC)(link)
She hurt him. He suffered. Connor's lip curls further, exposing a flash of teeth.

"Which time?"

She'd warped his code to serve her on the day she met him—and certainly, she hadn't minded the results then. Or the obedience it guaranteed her, every day after.

"Don't strain yourself pretending sympathy." The mocking tone flattens, stare cold. "If I'd done a better job of putting on whatever act you wanted, you'd be congratulating yourself now."

His gaze snaps sideways at the shot. A warning. (A wasted bullet, Connor thinks. It's not as if there's any reason to let these humans live.) His eyes linger on his predecessor: LED gold, weapon ready, attention fixed on the humans. Offering support. If she hadn't come here for him, then...

He looks back to Abhorsen. "You're in the wrong room."
youcantkillme: (Glare)

[personal profile] youcantkillme 2020-01-10 03:50 am (UTC)(link)
A calculation of how it might help them to take a human hostage pauses, and Connor glances over.

"No." 'In another room on a computer' is the obvious answer, but Connor can't bypass Cyberlife's security right now. They need a different option.

Fortunately, they have a few: "I'll ask."

Connor takes a few sharp steps, bringing up his gun to point at a scientist's face. She makes a terrified sound, and a building rush of pleas spills from her immediately. He interrupts it without pausing.

"We need tracking information on all the androids you've been working with."

The begging cuts off. "That's... That's--impossible, we--" Connor changes her aim, at a steep enough angle to be aimed at her kneecaps. "--Okay, okay! God, look--I can try, okay, I'll try!"

Connor takes a single step back as she shuffles to her feet, hurrying to a terminal shakily. He takes a glance around the room, but no one is trying anything, and--

--A distant, rumbling grind fills the room for several seconds, then stops. Connor's frown deepened, as quiet-enough-for-a-human-to-think-he-can't-hear whispers start. 'What was that?' someone wants to know.

He doesn't know for sure, but if they've just been sealed in by another security measure, then escaping just got harder.
313_248_317_60: (Why did you have to wake up‚ when)

[personal profile] 313_248_317_60 2020-01-10 04:31 am (UTC)(link)
She could have stood by. She could have left. She wouldn't interfere to help him without reason, and if Connor's lucky, it's just to glut those self-delusions of regret. Maybe it is. Maybe Abhorsen will leave things at that apology—say she tried, she did enough, and go.

Connor's never been lucky before. He keeps the rifle up, aimed steadily at her heart while the other RK800 scares a human. While the warnings flicker at the corner of his view: Critical Thirium Levels // Critical Thirium Levels, and a scrolling list of biocomponents taxed by his short fight. He needs to shut down again. He needs to sit down, rest, slow the too-quick beating of his pump as it squeezes insufficient fluid through his frame. It—he—hurts.

...He needs thirium. And once these two leave, he can find it.

(And then, hopefully, get out.)

Harsh scraping echoes through the ceiling, mechanisms grinding with the finality of a closed tomb. His gun doesn't waver (not much) (just a tremor) but Connor's head jerks sideways, gaze raking over the technicians still cowering inside the room. There—by the intercom, with a look of dawning horror...

"Explain," Connor snaps.

He doesn't have two weapons. But apparently the look on his face is enough to convince the woman he won't hesitate to change his aim. "I—they sealed the lab", she chokes out. "They weren't supposed to—not until—"
youcantkillme: (Suspicious)

[personal profile] youcantkillme 2020-01-10 06:15 am (UTC)(link)
"I--I don't know." She looks sick, and she glances at the ceiling as though the minimalist air vents would have an answer flagged and waiting. "It should--"

Connor taps the terminal sharply with his free hand, lips thinning. "The tracking data, if you don't mind--"

Her uneasy look sours with disgust, and she shoots Connor a look that transforms into a flinch when she remembers his gun. "I-I was answering her questions, I can only do one thing at a time," she bit out.

"Learn to multitask." His look narrows, and his grip on the gun tightens just enough to creak.

She pales, then looked back at the screen, hands back at the keyboard.

He can hear a technician shifting in their hiding place, but Connor isn't willing to leave where he is. He looks over towards the sound, but doesn't otherwise react.
Edited 2020-01-10 06:16 (UTC)
313_248_317_60: (Watchful)

[personal profile] 313_248_317_60 2020-01-10 10:28 pm (UTC)(link)
Five guards inside, two guards out front. Enough to handle the subjects and lock down the building, but not enough to deal with any substantial threat. Which means other forces must be on call in the event of an emergency.

...Connor is getting very sick of the Ancelstierran Army.

He's not in any condition for a fight. Not with his copy, not with Abhorsen, and not with the other humans or their countermeasures. Certainly, Connor is in no shape to fight them all. Critical Thirium Levels, and he can feel the window of escape narrowing, like a shutdown timer ticking down just out of sight. How long before reinforcements arrive? How long until Abhorsen leaves?

Fingers clack on the keyboard. A shift of motion, comes from the underside of a table. Connor's eyes flick between it and Abhorsen, expression tightening in a scowl.

"...Shit."

His glare sharpens... before the barrel of the rifle dips. Three strides and the weapon trains instead under that table—on a man with a cell phone active in his hand. He freezes. Connor doesn't. He pulls the trigger on a quick burst of automatic fire, shooting the device—and the man's forearm—to pieces.

Screams tear through the room. The technician collapses, sobbing—only to yell again, in pain and fear, as Connor plants a shoe on his ruined arm.

"Where is your thirium?"

"I don't—I—"

He's taking too long. Connor steps down, eliciting an agonized shriek.

"In—in the main room! The refrigerator, by the w—wall—"

It's enough. Connor twitches his rifle up and braces against the recoil. A sharp staccato, and this human's body slumps into a pool of sticky red.
youcantkillme: (Glare)

[personal profile] youcantkillme 2020-01-11 03:23 am (UTC)(link)
Connor turns to watch as the cellphone (and arm) are destroyed. Thinly healed wounds in his chest ache, and the gunfire starts again, and his chest feels like it's been caught up in a giant vice.

Fortunately for him he doesn't need to breath. He stops trying, tensing as the other Connor stalks away from the remains, doubling back towards him. Connor's own gun is pointed at the human, but most of his attention--most of his processing power--is taken up by the other RK800.

He leaves, and Connor resumes breathing.

"Your enemy?" the technician hisses. "Lady, this asshole is shooting your people right now! I don't know how you pick 'em, but you're definitely their enemy, whether you think it or not!"

Connor looks at the humans, eyes lingering on Abhorsen, but looks around not long after. The technician is still working, and Abhorsen--

--(She's more likely to argue than to agree,)

--Abhorsen isn't likely to listen to her, he doesn't think. There's two other humans in the room still in hiding, which leaves them with three immediately accessible hostages--not including technicians that might be in surrounding offices.

(They could stand to lose a few. It would be easier to control, and once he finds a way to call Jericho, the humans would die anyway.)
youcantkillme: (Consideration)

[personal profile] youcantkillme 2020-01-11 05:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Connor's eyebrows flick up minutely, but he just says, "If we've all been sealed in, then we may need help escaping. We should inspect what's changed at the exit, and send out an SOS." Maybe not in that order.

The technician's expression falls and her shoulders shake, and she steals a glace at the two of them. She mouths a couple of silent, disbelieving words, and when Connor looks at her she turns forward again quickly.

Connor returns to Abhorsen. "... We may be here for a while."
youcantkillme: (Suspicious)

[personal profile] youcantkillme 2020-01-11 11:44 pm (UTC)(link)
He should ask him?

... Connor hesitates. He remembers the android's response to seeing her immediately post-deviation. He remembers the gun that didn't leave her a few minutes ago. The android has been threatening her overtly, and letting her hang back from now on is reasonable.

Except--except his insides feel like they're burning, like if he opens his mouth he'll breath flames. His paper-thin healings ache.

"Abhorsen," he says before she can turn. "Forming a temporary truce with the other Connor may be wise, but I would prefer it if you were present for that conversation."

His LED is bleeding red at its two-o-clock.
youcantkillme: (Glare)

[personal profile] youcantkillme 2020-01-12 09:45 pm (UTC)(link)
She touches her arm, she looks at his LED, and she acquiesces, explaining. The explosion hasn't disappeared, rising and falling, but the red is smothered out of his LED, and he curls his free hand loosely into a fist.

"I'll try to contact them," he says calmly.

(She's right. The Connor hates her, and will become belligerent and defensive in her presence--but Connor hates him, and hates the sense of diving into danger for an ally he doesn't want.)

(What would be better for the mission, and for androids overall? ... What would be better for him?)

(Do these intersect?)

Connor lowers the arm with the gun suddenly, pointing it at the floor. His jaw is tense, but his LED stays yellow, and despite his obvious displeasure, his tone is even.

"I can be the one to talk with him. I just need you nearby in case he attacks. Unless--" His LED blinks, and his eyes narrow.

"Can you teach me a spell that would subdue him in the event that it became necessary?"
youcantkillme: (Default)

[personal profile] youcantkillme 2020-01-13 03:26 am (UTC)(link)
"One mark," Connor repeats. She demonstrates. Off to one side, he can hear the typing at the computer stop, and the stillness of someone watching with full attention.

Sabriel speaks as Connor narrows his eyes, picturing the mark and experimentally adding a tiny glowing shape to a wireframe preconstruction. The invisible figure holds its hand forward, flicking sharply with a simultaneous push, and the glowing shape--weightless and frictionless in the simulation--flies forward.

"I guessed as much," he answers her absently, still focused. He glances to the side, and sure enough, the technician is staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed. He looks past her towards the screen, noting her progress. She's already at the screen he'd asked for, but there are other windows open, and it's unclear what she's been doing while he and Abhorsen had both been too distracted to notice.

Connor lifts his hand and acts out the preconstruction, charter mark glowing as the symbol forms. He gives it a sharp flick, and it flies forward with more lift than he expected--but it lands, just off center from the technician's forehead.

She freezes, eyes wide and shocked.

Connor studies her, then nods once, turning back to Abhorsen.

"She's finished finding the tracking data." He puts a hand on the computer's interface terminal, downloading the select files, and copying her access codes along the way.

"Are you still going to check the exit, next?" he asks, tone carefully neutral as his hand drops to his side.

He has the mark for paralysis now, and her presence could worsen the deviant's volatility--but the whole process wears at him in ways he can't describe. He doesn't want Abhorsen to be there. He doesn't want to do this alone, either. Every option is bleak, and sour.

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