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

Sabriel steps back from the grate, reaching for the simplest, least draining spell she knows that can break something electrical, one she'd broken a smartphone with once, before she understood how incompatible magic and technology could be.

She lets the spell go as soon as the centipede drops to the floor and it jerks, and flails, like a puppet with its strings cut as the microchips controlling it overload and break, and the machine goes limp, showing no sign of reacting as Sabriel nudges it to the side with her foot.

"How many of those things do they have?" She can't keep this up forever, and if even one slips through, or gets to either Connor...

"Is there any way of checking on what's going on outside- if help's coming, or how many of those things Cyberlife brought?"

The spell connects. Connor watches with a flicker of disappointment, before reluctantly opting not to waste his ammunition. Faint echoes can still be heard inside the walls, and he'll likely get his own chance soon enough.

He hopes Abhorsen means that first question rhetorically. Apart from an irritated glance, he doesn't answer it regardless. The second question draws a shrug.

"There's a security room. It has some camera feeds to the outside." Connor takes a step back, pivoting to take aim at a vent already showing bullet holes.

"We'd just have to leave this place less guarded."

And risk the EMP going off.

... Oh. Sabriel's expression falls at that.

"So we should just wait until the centipedes stop coming, and hope it isn't a ruse." Although given Cyberlife is probably blind to what's happening in the facility, she's not sure if they'd be able to come up with such a strategy. Sabriel looks at Connor, her tone verging on pleading.

"Do you have any ideas beyond holding out? Because I can't think of anything else." And if they couldn't... if she ran out of energy or Connor ran out of bullets... things would go badly. And Connor was better at coming up with plans than she was.

Hope draws a curl of Connor's lip. He isn't anything like sure that Cyberlife can't watch them—or that these things aren't programmed with other tricks. He keeps his eyes on his current target, waiting until the darkness beind the grate shifts to squeeze off a shot. Only then does he look back to Abhorsen.

"We could split forces." The two of them seem to be covering the hallway well enough—but still, it's a risk that could prove fatal. "Or enlist the test subjects to help out." However many are mobile, that is.

Connor shrugs, pacing a tight circle as he tries to track the noises in the wall. They don't seem close to any obvious vents. Are the constructs massing to attack later?

"Or we could deal with the EMP." His eyes cut sideways to the open door. Also risky. Still, when their other option is blindly waiting through attacks... he knows what he'd prefer.

Whatever Abhorsen might have replied with is cut off by a burst of sound behind them.

One gunshot. Two.

Connor isn't standing beside the computer terminal, when they enter. He's moved several feet to the side, angled so he can see behind one of the terminals that the room's great capacitors are mounted on. His eyes are locked on a fixed point, and he's poised, as though waiting for further movement.

"It was carving through the drywall," he'll explain unprompted.

Sabriel scrambles into the room- and then freezes at the explanation.

"Fuck." The centipedes aren't stopping. Is help even coming, or are they just going to have to keep at this until Sabriel passes out and the Connors run out of bullets? Or did Connor's allies decide to abandon him?

Giving up isn't an option. They'll just need to hold out until help arrives. Can she reinforce the walls somehow, without risking setting off the EMP? Or does Connor have some idea to deal with this?

They'd sealed off the vents inside the room. There shouldn't be anything to shoot at, and Connor steps rapidly after Abhorsen, sweeping one last glance across the hall. The sight—and answer—waiting past the door is enough to clog his vocal queue with furious invective.

He's only surprised Abhorsen says it first.

Repetition would be useless. Connor rounds on his duplicate instead.

"This isn't sustainable." Both hands cut through the air, though his left stays tightly locked around a weapon. "We can't cover every scrap of drywall. We don't even know if they'll stop when the humans do. Or if they're breaking in right now."

The words are low and furious, eyes flashing in anticipation of a fight. Not without reason, Connor thinks. Even aside from his predecessor's blatant bias, it had rejected all discussion of tampering with the EMP before.

"We need to shut that thing down."

There's a hole in the wall the size of a tennis ball, with a ragged edge where the gunshots tore pieces as they reached the centipede writhing through. The hole is empty now, with the centipede on the floor outside of it, and it means anything could climb through the hole at any second.

Connor tears his eyes away from the opening, bringing them to the other RK800. His own LED burns yellow, and he glances at the room's main terminal, and down at the centipede.

It's too dangerous. They don't have any guarantee they'd succeed. And yet the other android is right: this isn't sustainable. It's a waiting game, and the odds are stacked against them higher than ever. This isn't a matter of whether they'll fail, but when, and if the centipedes can climb through walls at any point--

Connor considers a single image of every wall in the room peppered with holes, before he jerks his chin down in a curt nod.

"You're right. The situation has changed."

His eyes don't dart to the door, where the JB400 still stands frozen, but his thoughts do. He's already failed to cover the other android's back once.

"I'll do it." Connor doesn't move, eyes locked on the other android. If he wants to protest, and to suggest Connor help Abhorsen guard him, now is the time.

Edited 2020-04-06 05:00 (UTC)

The tense set of Connor's shoulders doesn't fade, but his expression flickers closed with a blink of surprise. That's... not the answer he'd anticipated. Still, that's no reason to waste time gawping—and he doesn't, stepping back with a tight nod. He'll watch the room.

(Certainly it's safer than volunteering to be watched.)

The scratching in the wall is starting again. Not from the same opening (his eyes flit sideways, checking), but they probably don't have long. Connor glances at Abhorsen.

"Can you make a—barrier?" He gestures to an overlarge capacitor. "In case."

"I can try, but... I'm not an expert on how magic interacts with electromagnetism. I can't promise it will work. And I don't want to use powerful magic too close to the device, in case that sets it off."

But they're past worrying about absolute safety or certainty, so Sabriel reviews the spells she knows, considering the marks she's learned, and the spells she's studied, the theories she'd discussed with the Magistrix back at school. 'Protecting androids from EMPs' had not been a subject they'd discussed. Or much about the interaction of magic with technology in general, beyond 'it breaks it'.

"A diamond of protection is the most likely to work, but it would only shield the two of us... and would break if anything- such a bullet- leaves the bounds of the barrier. We'd be safe, but we couldn't do anything to keep the other Connor safe, unless he's also inside the diamond." So not an option, at least not to protect Connor from the the EMP while leaving them free to help the other Connor.

"Any other sort of barrier... I'd have to improvise, and it would take time. And it's possible I could exhaust myself only to make something that doesn't work. I'll try, if you insist, but I can't promise anything." She owes Connor that much. But from her tone and expression, it's clear that Sabriel doesn't want to promise anything.

"Perhaps a protective spell, cast directly on you? Those are mostly to keep people safe from Free Magic, though, I'm not sure if it would do anything about an EMP."

The other Connor steps back. He and Abhorsen talk quickly. There's an ominous grinding, scratching, tapping on the other side of the wall, and Connor recognizes it from the previous hole.

Connor wastes no more time. He steps forward and jams his hand against the computer's interface terminal, LED switching to a steady yellow brand.

The protective spell sounds useless. The diamond is better, and he calls up the referenced marks from her books. Could they lock off the whole apparatus somehow? Contain a potential detonation?

...not effectively, Connor rapidly determines. The protection offered by the spell as written only works against targets outside, and even if that could be reversed... they don't have time to waste experimenting.

The scraping is growing louder. Connor sweeps his gaze across the room and stalks toward the console, passing his double to snatch up the assault rifle he had left next to the terminal before. He's scowling when he glances back to Abhorsen, but not specifically at her.

"If you can limit their approach somehow—do it."

Funnel them into a kill zone. Or just give the two of them a wall to put their backs against. It's the best he can think of, and they don't have time for more. Connor shoves his handgun back into its holster and hefts the automatic, stepping back toward the center of the room.

"All right. Let me see if I can fortify a wall."

Focus the marks on four corners, creating a strengthening web- a modification of a spell meant to be cast while a structure was built, weaving magic into the stone to make it last as long as the building stood.

This spell will not last that long, but it doesn't need to. Sabriel kneels, and begins to trace out marks of stability and toughness, of impermeability and defense. Can she skip the marks to protect against more supernatural threats, or will that weaken the spell? Sabriel decides to skip them, and save her strength. The final mark for this spell will be draining enough as it is.

She'll just have to trust that Connor will watch her back while she works.

Connor plunges into the terminal's code like diving into a deep pool. He stirs up processing-power costly programs, starts enormous (recursive) file copies from one side of directories to another, and while the computer is as bogged down as he can manage, he reverses himself sharply, surfacing from the depths.

He hasn't been gone long. It's not complete chaos, though it feels like a scene on the brink of it, and Connor stalks around the table, wading through the mess of cables and equipment connecting the terminal to the room's setup.

Connor nods to Abhorsen. Tracks the rising hum of system fans, and his double's ensuing motion. If the other RK800 does fail, Connor probably won't live long enough to know it. Would it have been better to change places? But even the preconstruction of oblivion can't quite override the spike of horror fresh in memory: claws digging into his synthskin, the liquid flow of metal snaking (too fast) toward his port. In theory, the technical role would be more vital here. They'd have to guard him. And, one death or another—Connor knows there isn't really any difference.

He still feels sharp and raw and far too tired at the thought.

(At most thoughts in the last twelve hours.)

A faint crumbling in the surface to his left draws his gaze—and weapon—quickly. The advantage of his chosen role is the option to react, and Connor wastes no time in squeezing off a burst of fire as the silver shape protrudes through the wall. Bullets drill through the its processor and motor systems both, and the device sags... before twitching again, propelled by pressure from behind. Not just one, then. And, if the growing scraping is much sign, not just from one direction, either.

"Incoming," Connor mutters to the room. He squeezes off another burst of fire.

Sabriel's hands shake as she traces out the last mark of the spell- and one wall glows with Charter marks, running over its surface and reinforcing it.

One direction they don't need to worry about. Now there's just the other three to worry about. Sabriel takes a deep, ragged breath, and steadies herself, reaching back into the Charter.

She can't use powerful magic. But these things aren't made with magic in mind, and she doesn't need powerful spells to break them- she just needs to aim, and not collapse until the centipedes stop coming.

The first centipedes are easy- a minor spell sends two back, the head of one sparking with something- the mouth is different than the ones before, Sabriel realizes distantly. It almost reminds her of a... taser?

First one hole in the wall. Then two. Now four, five—more, as Connor steps sideways, gun twitching smoothly from one opening to the next. Abhorsen's barrier appears to be holding at a glance, which makes it possible to keep most of the apertures in sight, but between the central column and the bulk of the capacitors, there's still more cover than he'd like.

His gaze slides past his predecessor: crouched to dismantle the central apparatus. How much longer will it take? And how fast can they afford to rush the process? (If they'd listened to him before, there wouldn't be any need to hurry now.) Connor vents his bitterness on another segmented form, a neat cluster of shots cutting off its scuttling across the floor. (Further than the others made it.)

He'd expended most of the rifle's magazine on humans. When it clicks empty, Connor drops it, reaching without pause for both handguns. One of the holes across the room is glinting with new motion—but there's a sound even closer, and Connor stills, eyes flitting across all three walls—

—before snapping upward. "Shit." A pair of pincers can be seen extruding from the ceiling: tearing their way through the same flimsy drywall as the walls.

He puts a bullet in it, voice sharp. "Watch the ceiling."

"I will!" At least they're not coming through the floor. another one starts gnawing through above her, only to be cut off by another quick spell, before a group of three comes swarming out of another wall, close enough to all be stopped by one spell.

Sabriel can't keep this up- but if Connor can shut off the EMP while she still has enough energy... Will a single, powerful spell be enough to shut all of them off?

One of the centipede's gotten- too close, and Sabriel stamps on its head as hard as she can, feeling the thin metal plating bend as something in it breaks and it goes still.

Just a little longer, she tells herself. She just needs to keep her strength up until the other Connor disables the EMP.

Connect these cables. Use that port to override the access while the system's primary protocols are caught up, interface here, proceed cautiously, checking to make sure he doesn't trip the wrong sequence--

--he's in the clear. Carefully, oh so carefully, Connor sends a command that zips through the whole system like the first domino in a branching cascade. The pitch of the terminal's fans shifts. The lights on the capacitors start blinking quickly, disks sighing and humming--and in stages, everything begins to quiet.

The shifts in sound are impossible for Connor to track over the sounds of gunfire, so Connor rests his free hand on a faintly vibrating terminal case, tracking the feel of the fans and the lights that blink. Finally, the fans still, and the lights dim.

Connor stands up, threading through the tangle of cables and reaching for his gun. The rest of the room is still in chaos, and if the caterpillars reach the capacitors, there's still a risk, even if much smaller than before. He skates past Abhorsen, who's a whirl of motion and impossible, surgical precision, glancing over the RK800, a gun in each hand and aim inhumanly perfect--

--bits of insulation fall away from the ceiling behind him, and a curl of silver snakes out, pausing to calculate.

Connor's all-clear dies on his lips, and for an excruciating (useless) instant he's imagining the aftermath of this, with the RK800 attacked once again, and this time without anyone to intervene. Warnings clog up the edges of his vision--

--His gun goes off, cutting through the thoughts and useless loops, and Connor is very abruptly aware of squeezing the trigger again, and again. The centipede flies apart in mid-air, legs waving and wires sparking uselessly. Connor's hand tightens around his gun, and he considers scattering the pieces further, but he can't spare the bullets.

He forces himself to breath, a process that'd stalled with the surge in (useless, unhelpful, dangerous) errors. His gun switches to a new hole in the ceiling, and he's already tracking the next danger, but he can't help but steal a glance at his allies, scraping as much information from the looks as he can.

Edited 2020-04-14 04:31 (UTC)

Lights surge, fans hum, and for a moment, Connor's pump skips with cold fear. And then the sound quiets. The blinking status lights go dark. The terminal is—off?—and his predecessor straightens—and Connor meets its eyes, searching for confirmation. That it's done. That they can pull the plug, get out of here at last—

The RK800 isn't looking at him.

Shit. Connor spins, gun lifting—in time to see a silver shape explode under repeated fire. He stares as the shards scatter. Blinks, as he reconstructs the only vector from which they could have come.

When Connor turns back to his predecessor's smoking gun, his expression is furrowed in a frown.

...He'd had it under control. (He hadn't.) He could have shot the thing himself. (Not quickly enough.) It had been too close—again, and Connor's lips press together, twisting and flattening as his LED blinks rapid gold.

"...Fuck." He jerks his gun up, sighting on the still-connected plug and firing. Sparks fly as the cable drops, and Connor retreats quickly toward the door, weapons shifting toward new targets.

"Let's go."

Sabriel relaxes as soon as Connor shoots the cord- except the centipedes are still coming, with no sign of abating.

"I'll get rid of them." The centipedes might follow them, or go after the other deviants once they realize the EMP can no longer be activated. Best to deal with the mass of them now, while they've converged in this room, and take them out all at once.

Sabriel reaches into the Charter, the rest of the world falling away- and even if it's draining, it's also comforting, her fears and anxiety ebbing as she focuses on the Charter, vast and unending and connecting her to everything else as she immerses herself in the endless universe of symbols.

The Master Mark she needs is easy to find, and she links it up to a hastily assembled chain of marks, shouting out the spell as soon as she surfaces and sees centipedes gnawing through the walls and ceiling in half a dozen places.

The spell explodes outwards, and she can see them convulse in the half second before the lights flicker and die, and Sabriel realizes that she pushed herself too far, again, before she looses consciousness.

Edited 2020-04-14 05:28 (UTC)

Abhorsen calls behind them as Connor--both Connors--turn to leave. The older Connor only gets two steps away before he's suddenly aware of a surge behind him, of some sort of magical activity.

She'd said she would get rid of them. How? Connor twists to look back, mouth opening to ask what, why, and urge her after them--

--He's met with a wave of energy, like a wall of nonphysical water that freezes him with a flinch. There's a roar of sound, and every sense tingles and blanks in a haze of noise and static. He knows this sense of distortion by now, and a moment later it's gone.

Along with his sight. Or--almost all of his sight? He can see vague shapes through the receding static, with pinpoints of color and a slight yellow haze--

--His LED blinks in alarm, and the haze pulses with it. Understanding dawns, and Connor shakes himself internally, quickly leaving the disorientation behind.

What's the situation? The scuttling is utterly silent. In fact the whole room is, but for the two androids still in (and partially in) the room.

"That stopped the attack," Connor says. It also, from the sound of it, stopped her, too. "Abhorsen? Status."

If Connor is unhurt, then chances are the other android is too. Connor spares him a glance as he steps back towards the room's center (yellow too), before Connor focuses on the downed human.

There is, of course, no reply. He doesn't call again, kneeling and touching her neck.

Unconscious. Fatigue? ... Of course.

Abhorsen announcing her intent to cast a spell decidedly does not slow Connor down. He makes it to the doorway by the time the wave of power floods his sensors, and turns, eyes narrowing into the shadowed haze. The static clears much more quickly this time than before, revealing his predecessor, Abhorsen's insensate form, and several gleams of motionless silver.

Currently motionless. Despite the dramatic display, Connor doesn't trust in the slightest that they'll stay that way—or that more won't crawl in from above. He stays in the doorway, watching as the other android checks Abhorsen. By the reactions, he assumes the obvious has happened.

Unfortunate for their current resources. But the humans in the lab are dead or trapped, and if more devices do appear... at least they won't be pinned down inside a deathtrap.

Assuming, of course, his predecessor stops stalling. "There's no reason to stay here." The words are short, flat, and unexpectedly loud against the sudden silence in the room. "Carry her out if you're feeling charitable. Or don't."

She was never a target.

Connor glances up at the harsh words, then looks back down. Leaving Abhorsen would mean leaving her defenseless, and as obvious as the centipedes' goal was to detonate the EMP, there's still a few ways they could cause damage to a prone target.

Connor is holding his gun, still. He tucks it away, and with both arms free he lifts one of the human's arms, then carefully leverages her into a fireman's carry. She's secure by the time he straightens, and he starts for the door.

"We'll move her to the lab," he says quietly.

To the lab. Where the other deviants should be. Connor's eyes linger pointedly on Abhorsen's insensate form: blood-streaked hands and the slow rise and fall of unconscious human breaths. And probably new bruises forming from that fall. This promises to be an interesting conversation.

Still, there's not much point in arguing. He shakes his head, tucking one gun into its holster as he steps back to leave his copy space. Connor's stare flicks briefly across the room, stopping at the spent rifle he'd dropped amidst the fighting. But he doesn't have more ammunition, and if something does happen, a free hand would serve him better than a spent gun.

(Besides. He's ready to get out of there.)

He leaves the rifle. Scans the hallway as his predecessor exits, checking for any stray devices. The space is quiet, though, and empty except for the debris left by earlier attacks. One crumpled shell by the far wall is still stained with flecks of blue. Blue Blood: RK800 313 248 317-53 flickers in his vision, and Connor's mouth flattens, crunching the device under one heel as he passes.

His predecessor wanted to bring the human. As far as Connor's concerned, that means his predecessor gets to explain her too, and he lags deliberately behind the other RK800 as they move along the hall. It's this position that lets him spot the glint of light on metal: ahead, above, by a vent where he remembered damaging one of the creatures.

His gun snaps up. It drops. He fires—bullet skimming just shy of the other Connor's head to produce a scatter of small parts.

Edited 2020-04-17 18:00 (UTC)

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