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.

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She doesn't know what her barriers would block. Which makes more effective solutions— such as encasing the whole device inside a ward—almost as risky as physically disconnecting it. Connor's lips press together, and he steps carefully to the side, eyeing the newly revealed vent. Between his predecessor and Abhorsen, that opening should be covered, but his attention shifts around the edges of the room, trying to anticipate the next arrival.

Do they have microphones? "Possibly," he answers. "Cameras, certainly." There hadn't been audio components present in the remains he examined—but his bullet had destroyed the bulk of its "head". Now isn't the time to search and reconstruct the pieces.

His eyes snap up as another scrape echoes from the ceiling. That's two in proximity. At least. "We need this room shut down," Connor snaps. His eyes flit to the JB400 still hovering outside. "Are you programmed for systems work?"

It twitches back half a step, mouth opening for a long moment. "N-Not—"

A silver flash drops down into the hallway, and the JB's stuttered protest sharpens to a yell. Another centipede is swarming up the android. It jerks back, clawing desperately to pull the creature free... and Connor's gun rises, aim narrowing—

A hand identical to the RK800's own lashes out, striking the gun-arm and sending the shot towards the ceiling.

"He's not dead, yet!" Connor shouts at him, every synthetic nerve tuned to an extreme. He stays there for an instant, hand poised to counter that same gun hand and keep it from swinging right back at him. It won't help the fact that the android may have other guns, but--

But nothing more should be necessary. Shouldn't.

Edited 2020-03-01 19:55 (UTC)

A strike to his forearm, and the bullet discharges uselessly. Connor steps back, gun swiveling toward his attacker—

—only to stall, weapon faltering as his predecessor meets his stare. What is he—?

Shit. Shit. Connor's own gun is in his hand, and the time they're wasting burns like a candle that's almost out. Connor eyes are locked on the other RK800, but his ears are straining for Abhorsen and the JB400's status.

Edited 2020-03-01 20:35 (UTC)

Connor freezes, hand locked around his weapon. The other RK800's firearm is raised in mirror, leveled on his head. Past that stands Abhorsen, and past her, the centipede still swarming up its victim. He's not dead yet. The JB wasn't, but—what did his predecessor think he was shooting?

There's no time. There's no time, and—Connor's jaw clenches, eyes dragging up from the barrel of his predecessor's gun.

"I know."

He points his weapon downwards.

The other android's gun is pointed solidly at the ground before Connor breaks his own stance. He doesn't so much lower his gun as he transitions from aiming to sprinting, all in one motion.

By now, Sabriel's already sealed the vent- so she lunges at the JB400, grabbing the centipede and yanking it away with both hands- gaining several small cuts in the process- and throwing it as far down the hall as she can manage, reaching into the Charter before its even hit the floor.

The spell she reaches for is an old one, and familiar. The marks settle into her mind like an old nursery rhyme she couldn't forget even if she wanted.

"Anet! Calew! Ferhan!" The silver blades strike the centipede in quick succession- the first one punching through its midsection, leaving it nearly bisected, and the second two striking squarely at its head, leaving little more than broken, smoking metal in their wake.

Edited 2020-03-01 21:53 (UTC)

He's there in less than a second, but by then Abhorsen had already been taking action. This--isn't a bad thing. It's better than what he'd been able to do, caught up in a (~~pointless~~ standstill while someone fought for their life. The centipede is dashed to pieces, and for all that the lower half flails and wiggles, it's obviously not going anywhere.

Connor turns to the JB400, then pulls up short, face falling like a door slamming shut. The JB400 is frozen where he'd fallen to one knee, hands poised as though reaching for an invisible scarf. There's a bare patch of exoskeleton at his neck, and an open socket with a connection visible and easily accessible where a human would have had a pulse point.

His LED burns red at his temple. He's perfectly still.

Connor's firewalls brace, and he touches the android's shoulder with two fingers, sending a ping. The only response is a senseless stock 'Please Stand By...', and Connor lets go again, lips thin.

"Shit."

The JB400's life isn't even the only loss. If that centipede accessed the deviant's memories, and the android's knowledge of their resources and plans--it's one more thing to worry about, and they can't afford more.

Connor's LED burns red, gold, gold, swimming quick circles even after his double's weapon finally turns away. He doesn't follow the others. He steps back instead, pacing a quick circuit of the room with his lowered, readied gun. Narrowing down targets no one else will interfere with.

He hopes.

When he stops, it's at an angle. Connor's eyes flick back to the other RK800 as his weapon rises, fixing on the vent their first intruder had made use of. The slats are partly crumpled, a bullet hole carving out further space—behind which a new mass of silver legs are starting to seethe forward.

"There's another one here."

The warning is terse and flat. It's followed by two shots.

"If you can take it out, I'll seal that vent." Sabriel's already tracing out the marks for the spell, and her voices is- distracted, as she keeps her attention divided.

"Let's make them spend that much more time out in the open." Hopefully the JB400 will recover in time to help them- he's not dead, she didn't feel him die or even come close to it- so it's possible he'll recover soon. In the meantime, they just need to keep him safe.

And hope the centipedes don't realize there are more deviants, vulnerable deviants, in another part of the facility, while they wait for Jericho to arrive and chase the army away.

There's a warning behind him. Then gunshots.

Connor's shoulders coil tensely, LED burning yellow on blue. Then, without a word of acknowledgement, he forces himself back into motion. There's fine legs scuttling on hollow metal somewhere nearby, and though the source isn't visible yet, Connor spots an unblocked vent several doors away.

Connor walks towards it, frowning. "If we block every exit we know about, then they'll search until they find others."

Nevertheless, he reviews the marks he saw her use inside the kill-switch room, concentrating. He's--not very clear on the energy allocations of it, but he thinks he's far enough not to be a danger. Carefully, gracelessly, he summons up marks and sends them up to the vent overhead, pouring energy into the spell.

He shoots. The glimpse of silver scatters. Connor waits a beat to be sure it won't resurge, then steps back from the vent with a curt "Done" to Abhorsen. She takes over, and he glances around, wondering just how many openings she can block off.

As his predecessor's pointed commentary notes: it's unlikely to be enough.

He tracks the other android's tension, and the subsequent stalk off. The RK800 is stressed by him shooting, but not enough to interfere that time. Had the JB400 been the motivating factor? It seems likely. Connor eyes the frozen shape in the doorway and scowls. Even if he had shot it, he doubts it would be worse off.

...There's one way to find out.

He glances around the room, checking for immediate hazards, then takes a couple steps to the hallway. His copy is a few doors down, and Connor glances over, logging the spellcasting with only a flicker of frustration before he turns his focus back to the red-lit JB.

"I'm going to probe its systems."

If the other Connor plans to stop him, he'd prefer to know before the act this time.

"Do you think you can help him?" Some of Sabriel's tentative hope leaks through in her voice, even as she focuses her efforts on sealing the grate.

Once that's done, she turns back to Connor- she needs to baptize him, if they keep working together, and he's amenable, she distantly realizes. Having three mages working together is better than just two.

"We don't need to block all of them," Sabriel says, her voice low, "Just enough that they have to get into the open far enough away that we can take them out more easily. Especially since using a gun is less draining than my methods."

Far enough away that the centipedes will spend more time out of the vents. Not so far that they stumble onto the other deviants while looking for more open vents.

Connor lowers his arms and turns. There's a second or so's pause--not long, by human standards--and then he walks towards them. He doesn't want to be involved, but strategically they should investigate the centipedes' abilities. Does he think the other RK800 will mishandle the job? ... From a technical standpoint, no. Their abilities and skillsets are essentially identical. From a compassionate standpoint--

Abhorsen speaks, and Connor glances, mouth tightening. He's within view of the LED he'd already seen earlier, and his overall conclusion is the same as then: "It looks like a system crash, at best."

By his tone, it's clear his hopes aren't high. This is no longer a question of compassion for the living, but respect for the dead, and proper handling of desperately needed recycling.

Connor tips his head at her other words, glancing down the hall. His gun is still in his right hand, and while he doesn't seem to have a use for it, he hasn't reholstered it, either.

Low hopes. But no objections, and as Connor steps up slowly to the JB400, no new protests fill the hall. Of course, his predecessor's gun doesn't go anywhere either. If it changes its mind—

...He'll just have to be faster. Connor exhales shortly, switching his own weapon to his right hand as the skin rolls back from his left.

"Watch the hall."

He places a hand on the deviant's shoulder and initiates the probe, LED spinning quick yellow. The JB400 doesn't react, but Connor's brow furrows immediately, most of the data returning a corrupted hash. He combs through it carefully, trying to trace back to the access logs—and guard himself against any malware left inside.

Sabriel nods in assent, and does as she's told. There's nothing she can do inside, and Connor...

Connor will know how to help the android, and the android would probably want Connor's help rather than hers anyway. Even if the other Connor hadn't sounded optimistic... he wasn't dead yet.

So Sabriel waits, listen for the sound of skittering legs getting closer, watching for the gleam of metal, and waiting for help to arrive.

She's not sure how they'll know Jericho's arrived, aside from no more centipedes appearing. Maybe Connor will have some other way of telling.

'Watch the hall.' Connor's jaw tightens by way of response, and before the distinct lack of deferral is clear, the other RK800 is immersed in the hack.

A second passes. Two seconds. The RK800 doesn't fall victim to any attacks of his own, and after a second or so more Connor checks his gun's clip, glancing around.

His hearing is good enough to catch faint sounds in the distance, and not good enough to identify what's making them. He recognizes the whisper of passive ventilation. He hears the whirr of computer fans. Are those faint footsteps? A line appears between Connor's eyebrows, as he realizes that they haven't warned the rescued deviants about the centipedes.

Connor eyes his counterpart, then Abhorsen, then the small door--

--it might be too dangerous to hack the self-destruct, but maybe there's a lower security station he can use to hack an intercom.

Connor leaves the corridor without another word, stepping back into the small room.

The JB400's motor controls are undamaged. Its cognitive functions... less so. Slowly, Connor picks through the hash of half-wiped files, brushing off the occasional process trying to attach to him.

A full reconstruction proves impossible, but Connor can at least source the bulk of the damage. Memory. Files are corrupted and half-accessed, readdressed incompatibly across a wash of sectors in what seems to be an interrupted format. The centipede had been downloading stored data from this android... and resetting systems as it went.

Answers found, Connor terminates the probe, eyes blinking as he refocuses—

—on the flash of silver, dropping in his periphery. On the dig of metal claws into his arm. Connor jerks back in horror, elbow smashing against the wall—but the thing seethes past undaunted, heading for his port—

Sabriel barely has time to shout out a warning before it's climbing up Connor, and she doesn't have time to think before she acts- she grabs its head, pulling it away from Connor and ignoring the sudden pain in her hands as the thing's sharp edges slice into her- she hisses out a spell, and the centipede jerks as a surge of magic rushes through it, frying its delicate circuitry and breaking a few other small, exquisitely engineered parts.

Unlike Connor, it's just a machine- and thus easily breakable.

"Are you all right? It didn't- didn't get you?" Connor seems unharmed physically, but so was the other android- it's not a guarantee of anything.

Edited 2020-03-28 05:30 (UTC)

The intercom hack is--delicate, and includes the use of the dead human's access codes and a creative override. The call itself is short, and distracting, and consists of little more than a short transmission and a reply. He keeps his ears trained on the hallway, and his eyes on the terminal.

... It's not enough. Connor never hears the almost imperceptible tic-tic-tic of metallic legs on the vent channel change until they're gone, and Abhorsen is shouting a warning, and there's the whirl of cloth and the impacts and clatters of a struggle.

Connor tears from the transmission and darts back out of the room, bringing his gun up. It's already over by then, Abhorsen clutching the centipede in a bloody, sparking fist.

Shit. Connor shouldn't have left. The realization is clear in his expression, and even as he immediately wars with it (Abhorsen rose to the occasion, his counterpart surfaced in time, Connor could have arrived in time if they hadn't already--), the guilt is there.

Then his eyes catch on the vent above, and Connor snaps his pistol up and fires twice. Another pair of legs silences, though he can faintly hear a third in the distance.

Abhorsen lunges. A spell goes off. Connor is left with a stinging ache behind his shoulder, thirium welling up stickily from the gaps where metal barbs had been ripped free. He stumbles back, red flickers interrupting the yellow of his LED as he stares at the device in her hand.

That was too close.

He swallows, starting to nod... when his predecessor bursts back into the hall. For just an instant, Connor's stare is confused. It clears—and shutters—quickly. Connor drags his glare from his copy to the vent, LED spinning furious gold as he retreats another step: back against the wall, keeping the opening (and the others) in clear view.

(What else had he expected?)

The other RK800 fires off a shot. Connor tracks the trajectory and keeps his weapon ready.

"Someone seal the damn vent."

Sabriel nods, and gets to work, ignoring the occasional drip of blood on the floor. She needs to seal the vent- her hands can wait until she's done with that, and she doesn't need to worry about slicing them open again pulling a centipede off of either Connor.

"If you've finished whatever you were doing," Sabriel says, not caring at this point that she sounds like she's lecturing an underclassman, "Connor's injured, and I did teach you a healing spell. And could you tell us before you go off on your own next time?"

Sabriel's injured too, and while healing her own hands will pose... additional difficulties, she can probably do it herself. It will just take a little longer, she decides as she takes a mental stock of how much more magic she'll be able to do before she needs to rest.

"How much longer until Jericho gets here?" How many more injuries will she needs to heal, how many more centipedes would she need to break, how many more vents will she have to seal off?

How much longer do they need to hold out, she wonders as she finishes sealing the vent.

'Connor's injured'? Oh fuck no—

"I'm fine," Connor snaps, stepping back again and hating the immediacy with which he bristles. It's true. The claws barely scratched his plating, and the tears to his synthetic skin should seal soon. He doesn't need help. And he certainly isn't going to be the other Connor's practice. His glare is locked on his copy, gun rigid in his grip, but his empty hand jerks toward Abhorsen.

"You're the one bleeding on the floor."

The RK800 gestures, but it's not with the hand holding the gun. Connor's gaze rests on it for an instant, then sweeps over the android in his entirety, scanning for injuries. He can't see any tears, what with the android facing him, but he sees the stiffness of that shoulder, and a smear on the wall he'd backed against.

His mouth is set into a thin line, and he doesn't speak just yet, or move forward. Not out of unwillingness, but because the argument is ongoing.

"I can heal myself," Sabriel replies, "And it wouldn't be right to ask for that." Not for herself, when she knows how to heal her own hands- and she starts tracing out the first marks of the spell with one hand onto the palm of the other.

It's slower going than it would be normally, and more draining, but the marks are familiar and well up easily, closing the wounds and leaving unbroken skin beneath the blood as she works with clenched teeth.

"You're sure you'll be all right?" It's mostly out of genuine concern... but none of them can afford to be injured too badly to work right now. Not when they're still under siege.

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