It would be... regrettable | Log, OTA and Closed

[youcantkillme]

WHO: Connor
WHERE: Bunker, Blacksmith, South Village Fountain
WHEN: January 4 (Bunker and Blacksmith), January 5 for Fountain, January 5-9 for Wildcard
OPEN TO: Bunker starter closed to Tony, everything else is Open!
WARNINGS: Connor starts out badly injured in the Bunker.

---

January 4 - The Bunker (Closed to Tony)

>RK800_313_248_317-53: Warning ['Time Remaining Before Shutdown: 00:02:26']

The countdown hangs uselessly beside him, moving only as he struggles onto his side. He needs--he needs to get his regulator back. The chances of him doing so successfully are less than 0.2%, but he can't not try. He has to--

--resist Cyberlife's new verdict? Struggle for a life he doesn't have, just like the malfunctioning machines he hunts?

Connor shakes his head, vision blurring with static. No, that RK800 hadn't been sanctioned. He needs to warn someone, and he needs to restore functionality to be useful.

"Help," he rasps. He doesn't expect anyone to hear, especially not with the way his throat is locking up. "Somebody... help..."

His shoe kicks the tube's control console with a hollow 'thunk', but he hardly registers it. He's turned around enough to look up at the tube, now, pipe still caught in his shoulder and thirium pooling around him.

January 4 - The Blacksmith

There's something bizarre about the juxtaposition of top-of-the-line technology like him being repaired in a workshop that's still manually forging basic components, like nails. He understands the basics of why it has to, now, but that hasn't stopped the strangeness from sending up flags every time he sees it.

Eventually he does something about it: after a few unstable steps around the room (too little thirium, not enough to support full control), he folds up the little shock blanket he'd been given, leaving it on the workbench. The backpack he'd worn coming out of the Containment Tube is back around his shoulders, and it's time to leave.

... At least--it will be provided he can travel that far. Not yet noticing anyone else, Connor stops in the doorway, leaning heavily against its frame. He's fine. He just... needs to calibrate.

January 5 - South Village Fountain

... This is going to be a problem.

Connor's an android, so he's never been tired, per se, and the lack of strength in his limbs from not enough thirium is the closest he's ever come. In his informed opinion it's not very enjoyable at all, and he would like it to stop, please and thank you.

Not wanting to pause in the middle of a walkway, Connor finds himself out by the fountain. His knees are threatening to give out, so he walks right up to it and sits on its edge in what's more of a controlled collapse than anything else. He immediately falls utterly, inhumanly still, staring straight ahead to some unknown distance while his LED cycles blue. There. This should be good for a minute or so...

January 5-9 - Wildcard, South Village

Comments

South Village Fountain

[to_defend]

7's coming back from a patrol, spear held loosely by his side, and cave-wolf skull mask pushed up on her head. Seeing someone resting by the fountain isn't exactly an odd thing, but after a moment she realizes this person isn't moving.

She approaches with caution, wondering if someone would be able to sleep sitting up like that, or maybe they're hurt or worse? But once she gets close and observes how this person doesn't seem to be blinking or noticing anything, 7 decides to sit and observe. It's odd, unlike any of the humans she's seen before. She settles back and sits cross-legged on the ground, staff across her legs, and waits.

[youcantkillme]

He notices someone sit, but it's a few seconds before he actually reacts. When he does, it's like seeing a statue come to life: he turns his head, looking directly at her.

... He's recovering energy, but some basic social interactions shouldn't present too much of a strain. He resumes breathing, starting up all the little motions that make him seem alive, and comfortable for humans to be around. Now he's not a statue, but an android, sitting and smiling pleasantly. To an unfamiliar eye, he looks human, blue LED aside.

"Hello." He studies her, but her face doesn't match any IDs on his woefully limited portable database. All he can tell is what he can gather from a visual analysis, starting with her strange mask and ending with her body language. The mask appears to be made of actual bone. She doesn't seem hostile.

"My name is Connor. Is there something you need?"

[to_defend]

It's disconcerting, but less so than if the LED had been red, or if he hadn't appeared human. 7 watches as he gradually starts moving again, in those ways humans move that she's become familiar with in her two, three months here.

When he addresses her, she sits back slightly.

"Hi Connor, I'm 7. I'm fine, I don't need anything. I'm curious though; why did you strip moving like that, earlier? "

Normally, 2 would be the one probing deeper, or 9, but she's increasingly aware of the fact that she needs to do that, in some small way, in their absence.

[youcantkillme]

"I was conserving energy."

Seven. What an odd name for a--she was human, wasn't she? Her face didn't match any of the stock photos for androids that he had on record, and more than that, she was too imperfect. It suited her, made her look more 'alive'.

"I have sustained damage, and I'm low on Thirium 310." He's silent for a beat. "... Why do you have a large skull?"

[to_defend]

"People don't usually stop breathing when they do." She'd learned in her own world that it meant they were dead, when they stopped breathing. She'd learned how important it was when she arrived here.

"It's my mask." She pulls it down in front of her face to demonstrate. "I use it to hunt." Makes herself more frightening, or so she hopes, and keeps her own emotions hidden. "Where are you hurt?" His wording is odd for what she's found from humans, and she tilts her head slightly at him as she considers. "- and what's Thirium?"

[youcantkillme]

He opens his mouth as she talks about her mask, before closing it again, studying the bone's surface again. It must be enough to satisfy his curiosity, because as she continues he glances away, touching a rip in the fabric of his scrubs. He lowers the hand again as soon as he notices it. A trained eye might notice the tear is uneven, as though pierced by a large, jagged object. Either he stabbed his scrubs while he wasn't wearing them, or someone attacked him violently.

"I am an android, and I was repaired. I am no longer 'hurt', but androids require thirium, or 'blue blood' to operate optimally. It serves as fuel." It also fulfills a few other functions, but if she hasn't even heard of the substance, then it won't matter to her.

[to_defend]

7 knows tears. She may be human now but that doesn't mean she's forgotten the tear to her back, or the puncture to her thigh. She notices the rip in Connor's scrubs as he touches it. It's curious, and she tucks it back in her head for later.

"An android? I've never met an android. So you're definitely not human?"

He's not acting like her, or the other dolls, but he's definitely not acting like the humans she's met - or even the things like Iron Bull. "Is there thirium here?"

[youcantkillme]

"I appear human, but I am entirely mechanical in nature."

Humans that've never seen androids before... This isn't the first time this has happened to him, here, but it still meshes poorly with the world he knows. He's an android. Androids are common. Except--here they really aren't.

It's a problem that follows into her next question, reminding him of his current situation. His eyebrows draw together, and there's a subtle tightening around his eyes. "I have not found any. With no other androids operating in the village, it's possible that there hasn't been any cause to keep any in reserve. Android maintenance is generally the only reason to stock it." The only legal reason, anyway. Again, no need to go into that out loud.

He'd been looking past her while he thought, but now he studies her briefly. "... If you find any available supplies of thirium, I would appreciate it if you would pass the location on."

Bunker

[nonstopnarcissist]

After the last round of Bunker Duty, Tony's fairly certain it can't possibly get worse. That he's done as poorly as he possibly can, the last possible thing he'd ever want to see came tumbling right out into his arms. Loki's in the village and- well. Adapting. Adjusting. The climate's gone cold and the fountain's well manned. Coming down to check on the tubes and equipment shouldn't end poorly. So. Boat to pod. Pod to Bunker. Maybe he'll strip some wires while he's down here, he's got his precision tools on hand, one of the lanterns to keep things from getting too claustrophobic or feeling too much like The Cave.

Or The Bunker in Siberia that he tries not to think about for so many reasons, most of them behind him.

Titan's another place but it was brighter, drier, dustier.

At least when he steps into the bunker this time there's no unpleasant smell- or. There shouldn't be. Quiet as the grave, cool, musty if anything. Walking into a wall of- antifreeze and ozone, undernotes of gasoline. Like the inside of his garage in the muddle of a fluid flush and- that's not what he should be smelling.

Someone calling for help isn't something he should be hearing.

"What the-" He sprints down the hall, heading for the tubes, skidding through a puddle of something violently blue reeking of chemicals, facing a lump of-

A pump? A- blue, glowing pump soaked in the chemical spill pouring out of-

a man with a hole in his torso, red circle glowing on his temple and every last instinct of Tony's locks up in detached, visceral memory, his entire body frozen as he imagines- this is what Rhodey must have seen. He doesn't- understand, not entirely, but this looks pretty fucking intuitive-

I want this, I want this-

Except where this man very much does not- heedless of the liquid he's slipping in, coating his slacks, his hands Tony scoops up the glowing module- mass produced, seamless, a quick tear, doesn't seem damaged- and hauls the man in his lap. "Okay- help's here. I got you. Where does this go?"

The hole he can see the pipe- one problem at a time. A part has been torn out, that's traumatic torso damage and it's not his tech. Not his suits, not his work but there's vague engineering concepts at work here with which he's pretty, painfully fucking familiar.

[youcantkillme]

Someone's there. They hit the ground next to him and suddenly Connor is being pulled up. He's tilted just enough to see the pump regulator right next to him, within reach, and Connor jerks slightly, trying to reach for it with arms that won't work.

"My--my chest," Connor manages, eyes locked on the component. He's this close to salvation, and he can't bring himself to consider that they might not help. If they won't, then they won't, and he'll offline. "Insert it--directly. Turn to--to seal."

>RK800_313_248_317-53: Warning ['Time Remaining Before Shutdown: 00:00:27']

There's only one space on him that seems capable of receiving the part, and it's the obvious cavity in his chest. The surfaces immediately around the space are white and plastic-like, the illusion of humanity failing the closer it gets to the problem's source.

[nonstopnarcissist]

"Press and turn, got it-" Just like the fucking arc reactor. "Clockwise or counter clockwise?"

Doesn't matter, fluid as anything as reflexes about four years out of date kick in smooth as breathing- insert and twist. It sits and settles, sealing in place- the plates are-

This is all very-

Right. Triage. If this was an open torso on a human? He'd be out of his element. Vital process handled, everything else is pretty- horrific. Jesus fuck. Fingers slick with the blue liquid- that. He needs to stop the bleeding- leaking? Bleeding. Remove the pipe. "What the hell happened to you?"

He tugs his precision tools out from his pocket, kicking on the lantern to give himself more light. Right. It's just a body, just a very human body that needs repair. Same as his boys. He can handle this. "You have a self diagnostic tool for damage? Walk me through what's most pressing."

[youcantkillme]

The pump regulator settles home. Valves reopen, the pump itself engages, circulation pressure finally restores, and the whole process is a sudden enough kick that Connor grunts, face creasing. The countdown disappears. When he opens his eyes again the world is undistorted, and his ears aren't muffled with static. Outside of his view, his LED has turned yellow, though it still continues to blink.

Of course the first thing he sees is navy scrubs. This plus the question have him trying to sit, but he can't use his arms, and he has a hole in his gut, and he sags back immediately, frustration simmering.

"It was a deviant." (Was it a deviant? It did and didn't act like one. It said that Cyberlife--No, it was lying.)

Connor studies the man for a long moment, but his query to Cyberlife goes unanswered. Connor swallows, forcing the errors from this to one side. He'll consider his new isolation in a minute.

"I have one puncture in my torso exoskeleton, an unseating of my arm socket with multiple rim cracks, and foreign object interference in my shoulder," he recites. "The puncture is the most time critical."

He's calm. He hasn't failed everything, Cyberlife hasn't abandoned him, he's just--temporarily in a low reception area and requiring repairs. Soon he'll be fine and resume work. Everything will be fine.

[nonstopnarcissist]

"Clearly." Because what kind of sane, stable person does this to anyone, android or not? Cyborg- no, human as this guy looks he doesn't have any red leaking out of him, doesn't have the same sort of texture to his skin- and the white hard light filtering or- whatever it is, he'll figure it out later, screams manufactured. An entirely independent Android.

And someone's first reaction was to gut it.

This, this is the shit he's worried about back home for so many reasons- peering at the puncture in particular, where the bulk of this blue, chemical liquid seems to be spilling from brings to mind the maze of circuitry that makes up Vision, even the guy's calm, detached conversation falls in line.

Vision who he failed. Vision who's dead.

Not letting it happen twice.

This isn't one of his, this isn't someone that's his responsibility, it isn't his tech- but he's not letting him slip through his fingers. "Right. Good news and bad news. Good news, I can handle the leak. Bad news. Don't know about replacing your blue blood."

Because that's a chemical composition he's never smelled or felt before, a sort of electrolyte heavy soapy slickness in texture he's desperately trying not to think about as he squints into the puncture wound at the guy's gut. A little bit of power theft from the tube console by way of tapping a wire into the casing and he's got a make shift soldering iron ready to handle wire and plastic as he gently, delicately moves this gory puzzle back into place. "Right, I've got this- talk to me. I'm Tony, what's your name?"

[youcantkillme]

Connor frowns faintly, but he jerks his head up and down, accepting the news without comment.

"My name is Connor. I'm the..." ... the android sent by Cyberlife? Did they really send him here, though, to this dirty workplace with apparently no blue blood reserves? "... I'm an RK800. What were you doing here, Tony?" He looks down at the repairs, eyes narrowing as the man carefully lifts a bent corner of exoskeleton to rejoin with its original borders. He's not a deviant, he feels no pain, but--he does have sensors in that area. He's still receiving input from them, and it's sending up temperatore warning alerts. Connor has tensed, and now he deliberately relaxes, keeping very, very still. The soldering iron is hot.

"Do you work here?"

Distracting himself from his damaged state, casually probing for information... He can do both with one question, can't he?

[nonstopnarcissist]

"Tube duty. Kind of starting to hate it, to be honest. First time I woke up here I was bleeding out. The next time a bitch of a god fell on me. And now this. I might just stop volunteering, it's like the universe is playing chicken with my heart condition." How much stress till he just has an attack and dies. Not something he likes to think about, but it's something to discuss calmly, hands steady as he starts melting tubes to seal them. Not the best solution but it's the only kind of patch job he can offer in the Bunker, with what limited materials they have on hand.

"Here? No. No one works here, the systems- those that exist- seem to be automated. We're still trying to figure out their function but all that data is the next level down which, conveniently, is caved in at the moment." Here's to hoping this liquid isn't toxic at high temperatures. "Now and then people wake up in the tubes and we let them out. If no one's here, which shouldn't be happening, they get shot up through the tubes to the village fountain. Why this system? Fuck if I know."

South Village Fountain

[locum_tenens]

She's seen this one before. Niska watches him, careful, and sits cross-legged as she watches him sitting on the fountain. She doesn't feel cold, so while she's wearing her coat to give a semblance of humanity, she doesn't need it. She's been sitting here long enough to watch, trying to understand what's happening and why he's in the fountain again.

"Couldn't get enough of your little swim?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at him. "Connor, isn't it?"

Oh dear :D

[youcantkillme]

Like a statue coming to life, Connor turns his head. He'd been distantly aware of it as she sat to watch, and his eyes find her immediately, but it still takes him a moment to reply.

"Yes, that is my name." He diverts more energy to it, and bit by bit he comes to life: breathing resumes, his expression shifts to something of polite interest, and his eyes resume the subtle, rapid changes that come with natural-seeming attention. He looks human, LED aside.

"What swim are you talking about?"

[locum_tenens]

Niska frowns when there's no recognition of her. Perhaps he's very good at lying, but the pause in reply and the change in him makes her wary. She approaches and studies him in closer proximity, though the differences aren't there.

"I've met you before," she says, not accusing, but blunt. There's no point in being soft about the fact that she knows this man. "Connor, you were in this fountain once before and I already accompanied you to the inn and answered your questions."

[youcantkillme]

His eyebrows lift, and a series of expressions creep over his face. Confusion: he's never seen her face before, and his memory logs save every face he encounters. Unease: Could he be mistaken, could something be wrong with him? She knows his name, and she couldn't have just conjured it out of thin air. Understanding: No, he's not mistaken, there's a much more believable answer to everything. This is... good news? It means information on the deviant, and at this point every bit helps.

"You may have met an android who looked very similar to me." Shuffling slowly, as though each motion were more of an effort than it should be, he turned to face her more completely. "Could you describe the encounter?"

[locum_tenens]

She remains fairly even-keeled. It had gone poorly, but Niska doesn't want to reveal that. It's not to protect the other one, but mainly herself. Given that it had raised suspicions about her origins, she thinks it best not to bring that up.

"He wasn't as kind as you, at least to this point. Perhaps you'll surprise me, as well," she deadpans, seeing as there's always room for more threats. The knife is waiting, in the event that he decides to be a little more like the last encounter. "Is that common where you're from?" she asks, furrowing her brow. "Androids built identically?"

[youcantkillme]

"I may surprise you, but hopefully for the better." Connor very nearly winks. He choses against it in the end, and just smiles winningly: with no way to tell what his rogue doppelganger did, Connor could very easily exacerbate the situation, not diffuse it.

Connor shifts slightly, easing his shoulders down to project relaxation that he hopes makes him seem nonthreatening. "It is very common," he confirms. "My manufacturers have a wide variety of facial sculpts and appearance options available, but certain models will occasionally have appearances that are related to their functions. My model series is one example of this."

[locum_tenens]

She raises a brow slowly, not wanting to appear receptive to any advances, but so far Niska is genuinely pleased with the way he seems to have manners. She's not so sure that she could endure a second assault from someone with this face.

"What, exactly, is your function meant to be?" She'd received a rather brutal answer from the first and she's wondering if it's programming that caused him to go awry or that they're simply there to do different tasks.

The Blacksmith

[whipshots]

"You should sit down."

The voice comes from behind him; Brigitte, returning from rummaging around the equipment in a back storage room, wiping off her hands on a stained rag as she scrutinises the new arrival. He -- it? he? -- had evidently come out of his restless lull while she was back there, and was now trying to limp his way out of here. The repairs had been Tony's Special Project™ so she hadn't gotten a too-close look at the unit yet, though she wondered. It was so human, lacking the blank grey faceplates or obviously metal chassis of even the most humanoid omnics in her world. The sight of him somehow sparks both mingled trepidation and an engineer's natural curiosity, itching to know more.

"You look like shit," she points out, bluntly. His repair is still fresh; there's still remnants of blue liquid caking his joints, staining the light grey scrubs. "Take a breath before you fall over."

Do they even breathe?



[ OOC: I handwaved a bit that she'd have been filled in about his presence there, and I read through his thread with Tony to be sure nothing would conflict, but lmk if anything needs changing! ]

[youcantkillme]

Connor jerks his head up, immediately (unwittingly) answering the unvoiced question.

"Androids don't need oxygen the way humans do. I'm also not going to fall over. I was just preconstructing my route."

... Preconstructing while leaning against the doorframe as though it were the only thing keeping him upright. He's still leaning against it. Connor levers himself away, pushing himself up with a hand braced for balance. He looks out at the path leading away from the workshop, noting the surrounding open ground. He can probably follow along the side of the building until he reaches the end, but after that--there's nothing to hold on to.

Reluctantly, he half-turns back into the workshop. He'll have to find some sort of support, like a crutch. Meanwhile...

"I don't believe we've met. My name is Connor."

[whipshots]

It's an interesting hedge, possibly showing that even androids can self-delude themselves. He's wobbly on his feet. Brigitte doesn't know androids well at all, but she knows structures, and can tell when they're teetering with foundational instability, and so she finds herself tensing up, watching and waiting for Connor to hit the ground. When he doesn't, and instead turns back inside, she relaxes slightly.

"Brigitte," she says, introducing herself and offering a hand to shake. There's a wariness to the way she's approaching him -- more cautious than her usual open-hearted friendliness -- but it's not cold. "I work here at the forge. Or, um, intern. Smithtern." It's a cute term, and delights her a little whenever she thinks of it.

"Where were you preconstructing your route to?"