Cëll - Derran's Lounge
Cëll barely repressed a snarl as the NMCT took off. Good fucking riddance. "They're gone," he mumbled to 129, his posture still tense and upright.
"Listen. There's things we can do for you. It might not be a permanent solution, but you need to keep your head on straight for now." He met her eyes, his glare a little intense—then flicked to the side, detecting movement further to the back.
His hunch—and analysis—was correct. An artificial human. Cëll was strangely enthralled with the way her skin warped, the bladed augmentations, the careful subtlety of the modifications; for a moment he mistook the feeling for jealousy, but it soon gave way to something more insidious.
Familiarity. Vague, fuzzy familiarity. Their blood was almost the same color, and he wasn't sure what that would mean for both of them.
...Too much going on in here, one of his processors whispered. He couldn't help but focus on the entirety of every situation, and the creeping paranoia that he was missing something was becoming distracting. Throwing him off his constant vigilance, which, as far as he was concerned, was a death sentence.
"...Nikki. Come over here for a moment."
Mara
Nikki's reveal had Mara whistling in amazement, impressed despite the uncanniness of the transformation. Ultimately it didn't bother her too much; it may have been the weirdest thing she'd seen that day, but it was certainly not the grossest.
Mara made no move to break Nikki's grasp, tight though it was. She simply rested a hand on one of Nikki's forearms and gave a comforting squeeze before letting go. "Don't worry, my lips are sealed. But honey, how did you know you wouldn't be affected by the Rotfall? As far as I know, that poison affects most living things. And you look...at least partially biological."
Mara's head perked up when she heard Nikki's name called from across the room. "On second thought, it sounds like you're needed—we can talk about this more later, if you want. And listen, Cëll seems like a decent sort, but you tell me if he gives you any trouble, okay? I've got ways of handling it. I'll go tell that poor 'borg that her little problem's taken care of for now, but just shout if you need me."
With that, Mara sauntered away, casting an assessing glance at Cëll as she passed him. She took a place at 129's side and gave the woman a friendly nod. "Hey there, sweetheart. Mind lending an ear? I know you've got a lot on the brain right now, but I wanted to pass on some news that I think might soothe your soul a bit." Mara glanced around, keeping her voice down. "A friend of mine snagged that propaganda chip of yours, rigged it to keep transmitting. Should buy you some time." Mara purposely withheld the source of the information; it was likely trivial to figure it out, but she didn't want to draw more attention to Nikki than necessary.
129
With the cops gone, 129 relaxed her posture. She continued to sit perfectly still, but there was a faint glimmer of life from her small frame. She tried to think about what came next, but thinking about anything was hard...
...but it was then that Mara gave her the news.
"... the chip? You have...?"
She performed a quick scan in case she was fibbing, to make sure it was there. And it was.
"... monitor?
It was there, and it continued to emit that same soothing signal she had grown accustomed to. She almost wanted to run over and touch it and tear it out of her filthy eardrums—
She stumbled back, clutching her chest as she pressed her ear with her other hand. The same ear where her Monitor used to sit.
"P-please... you must... you must keep it away from me..."
Edited by kkhohoho on Apr 19th 2022 at 8:40:06 AM
AKA Nixer
Derran's Lounge
Nikki shook her head in response to Mara, deciding to explain if only in brief. “I'm all synthetic. This flesh is weaved... it's synthesized. I wasn't ever born, so I think I must be just non-human enough... to not turn into a Sorrow...”
Cëll had called her name, however, and with a purse of her lips she nodded towards Mara in acceptance before hesitantly moving over to Cëll. She could tell there were similarities between him and her, but she was still intimidated to an extent by him. At least she knew she could run away into the Rotfall without fear of being followed.
Or rather, she hoped.
“What is it...?” she quietly asked, before looking down at herself momentarily. “Is this about...?”
Meanwhile, Derran had noticed 129's discomfort and decided to intervene so as to help out; beckoning Kloë to throw him a blanket that he could then place around the ex-construction cyborg's shoulders. Kloë seemed to be in somewhat of a sulky mood—a mood which only soured each time she glanced in 129's direction.
Evidently she was still doubting her decision to rip that thing out. It was clearly causing 129 pain, but was it worth it in the end...?
She really wasn't sure at this point.
bork
Breath of the Sun
Derran's Lounge
"Of course, officer. Have a good evening." Ehdmund waved as the officers departed, his cheerful grin never fading.
Once they were well and truly gone, he heaved a sigh of relief and turned back to face the others. "Well, that went splendidly. As much as it could have, at any rate."
He strode back over to 129, noting the girl's discomfort. "I can assure you, miss, that no one's going to put that chip back in your ear. If anything, I daresay most of us sorely wish we could have helped you earlier."
Edhmund leaned on his cane and smiled again, this time a true and genuine smile. "We're all friends, out here. You can trust us when we say that you're free."
Briefly, he glanced around the room at the others, before turning back to 129 and giving a short bow. "I'm Dr. Ehdmund Jekil, by the by. I don't think we were ever properly introduced. My clinic's a few blocks from here, if you're ever in need of a fix. Though I'll admit that replacing cybernetics as intensive as yours isn't my usual wheelhouse."
What is so amusing about this? Why do you take lives? How can you forget?
Stuck being sane.
Derran's lounge
Aleace is now glad that the NMCT are gone. However she is now stuck here to her dismay. And she's quite sure that the only way out involves borrowing multiple rotproof items and running quickly. She's going to wait this one out.
For now she's changing the settings of another node that is now on her left wrist.
I have no idea what to put here, oh well!Cëll - Derran's Lounge
Cëll's expression is placid, but there's a strange intensity in his eyes as he affixes Nikki with a gaze that ensures he has her attention."In a way," he murmurs. "Look."
His right hand, close up, is a marvel of servos and steel, with an elegant fluidity of movement, yet still clearly a product of under the counter dealings. He flicks his index finger upwards, and a switchblade emerges from the knuckle. His gaze is still on her, and for a moment it seems like he's approaching her and then—
He makes a small, clean cut on his upper wrist. His blood is a mesmerizing silvery-blue, strangely opaque, and all too similar to Nikki's own.
"Do you know what this means?" He's genuinely asking; it's not rhetorical. Something in his demeanor is... off. Vulnerable.
Edited by Palindromee on Apr 23rd 2022 at 11:36:40 AM
Trope-tan is here! ➯ my pronouns are ze/hir
AKA Nixer
Derran's Lounge
"...Are you... like me...?" Nikki responded to Cëll in a quiet tone of voice, staring at his blue-tinted blood in mild shock as she receded the skin of her hand in order to compare it to her own. "But you're not... y-you're not a NIKA unit...! You're... different. Did... another company do this...? Or..."
She peered at him curiously, before moving closer so that she could speak to him in more of a hushed tone.
"Who... are you, Cëll...?"
borkCëll - Derran's Lounge
He wasn't familiar with the terms she was using. Maybe he should've been.
"I was hoping you could help me answer that." Cëll leaned towards her in turn, brushing his hair out of his face and revealing the white steel plate above his right eye. His eyes weren't on her, though—just scanning, scanning, vigilant as usual. Scrobbling through his memory reserves, it took him a long moment to continue.
"I don't have any memories prior to the age of 17, and the ones from the start are fuzzy. Like they've been tampered with. I'm not like you, either, not really. But I'm a bit of a freak of nature, myself—no offense." He smiled wryly. "I assume there's others like you, yeah? Maybe I'm your prototype."
"But I do remember three things, if you want to help me jog my memory a bit. One: At some point, I was designated "βk-2C-B". Two: "Project Samizdat". Three: this." With his left hand, Cëll projected a strange, triangular symbol as a small hologram. "All my cracking and I've never gotten answers for any of those. Any of that mean anything to you?"
Trope-tan is here! ➯ my pronouns are ze/hir
129
"Free. Y-yes. Free. Thank you..."
Despite her words, 129 wasn't sure if the doctor deserved to be thanked. She did want the chip gone, but she was afraid she couldn't live without it. If it ever came in reach, she didn't know what she'd do.
"I am 129. It is not my name, but I cannot remember being called anything else. There are many things I do not remember..."
She glanced at a small mirror, sitting in the open bathroom down the hall. She stared at her face. A face that wasn't her face. It was the face they had given her, and it was the only face she had known. But somewhere deep down, she knew it wasn't her true face. A face that was stolen from her, long ago. And she would never get it back.
"...but do not sell yourself short. If I did not have access to your services, I would have continued to scream in pain until someone with heavy weaponry came and ended our collective suffering. I am glad to have your assistance, as I do not expect to have the company's for the foreseeable future."
Edited by kkhohoho on May 10th 2022 at 5:20:39 AM
Mara
Her name was 129? Christ, the poor girl. Mara hoped she'd be able to swap the dehumanizing bullshit for an actual name, sooner rather than later.
“Frankly, doll, I doubt the ‘assistance’ you got from your bloodsucking bosses ever did you a single bit of good,” said Mara. “And speaking of assistance, it sounds like you need a place to stay for the time being. Lucky for you, I’m your gal.” Mara stood up a little straighter, and shot 129 a warm smile. “Mara Springwood, owner of The Outpost bedsit. I’ve got a bunk with your name on it.”
Giving 129 a moment to mull the offer over, Mara turned to address the doctor. “Sounds like you’ve had a bit of an eventful night, huh Ehdmund? I’d offer to buy you a drink, Doc, but I seem to recall you aren’t fond of the stuff. You planning to stick around, or could you use an escort back to the clinic once the Rotfall slows down a bit?”
[I Deleted This Post Because I’m Fucking Stupid And Didn’t Know About The Signup Thread]
Edited by NajaNerd66 on May 21st 2022 at 11:20:25 PM
Derran's Lounge
"...Play it safe, that's what..." Kloë whispered in response to Aleace, before making herself known behind Ehdmund as she interjected in the conversation. "Yeah, Aleace here sniped the thing. I spotted it outside just before Rotfall came 'round. It was in the building... uh, that one. Top floor," she pointed as the NMCT officers followed her direction. "Tough to see from the ground. Someone must've blocked it in there."
"Acknowledged. We'll investigate the property once the Rot's cleared," one of the officers nodded, as the other tapped the information into a holographic display projecting from his forearm. "We're aware of the prevalent Sorrows in this area. Rumour has it that some of the big-wig companies are brainstorming some kinda Rotproofing solution. Personally, I think it's a crock of shi-"
The other officer nudged him with his elbow. "Remember our frequencies are being monitored. That's everything. Stay safe during this Rotfall, all of you. And for god's sakes don't get into trouble..."
The latter officer sounded more tired than threatening, as it was undoubtedly a warning he gave almost every time he dealt with Grimestown residents. Derran's Lounge was a hotspot after all, and even through the heavy armour it was obvious that the man wanted to get out of there. Probably back to whatever luxury accomodations he held in the Interior. His badge on his shoulder suggested a high rank in comparison to even his comrade.
Soon, the sound of the Levi taking off was audible, and it soon rocketed away to station at the nearest NMCT HQ over in Midring. Derran exhaled in relief as he smiled slightly at everyone present, and gestured for Kloë to come over as he spoke hushly to her.
"Get out some blankets and stuff for downstairs, would ya Klo? Some of these folks might need to stay the night..."
"Got it," she agreed with a resigned sigh, and opened a hatch in the backrooms opposite to the area Nikki and Mara were currently situated in order to climb down into the lower levels. There were sleeping areas there connected to Derran's secret emergency escape tunnels; protected from the elements and partly the reason behind the establishment's success as a sanctuary for those on the run. It may have only been sleeping bags tightly compacted together and a disjointed mass of blankets, but the ceiling was lined with stolen Rotproof shawls and thus rendered as safe of a bunker as one could get.
Kloë was genuinely considering using it at this point, given the severity of the Rotfall. But she came back upstairs once she was done anyway, partially to inform Derran that she'd done what he'd asked but also because she was curious to see if the other patrons would dare risk the Black Rain to get to their respective homes or destinations once they left.
Meanwhile, with Nikki and Mara, the former writhed and grimaced like a sodden cat as she was scrubbed down, clutching her seat with both hands to keep herself upright as she nodded on in reply to Mara's observations.
"I never had to buy my clothes... they were given to me..." she admitted, frowning slightly as she pursed her lips and looked up at Mara. "...I don't mind if it's illegal. I'm in the Outskirts now. It comes with the area."
She considered something, frowning as she got up and tugged at Mara's hand to pull her away from the door slightly. She evidently didn't want it to be opened, as what she then showed Mara was undoubtedly meant to be kept hushed—as she pressed down on the base of her own neck and caused her very much organic-seeming skin to suddenly liquefy and seep into her muscles out of view.
It was rather grotesque, yet also unnervingly sterile and free of blood. At least, recognisable blood. The exposed muscle of Nikki's face twitched and contorted as she shamefully looked down, aware that the sight was disturbing. But instead of the reddness of haemoglobin, the blood was an azure colour over synthetic white muscular fibres; and what appeared to be the distinctive shine of polished metal in the few places where bone was visible. Metal that matched the cybernetics that were also visible and present beneath her skin, likely to do with that plug socket on the back of her neck along with other miscellaneous devices.
Such as the obvious foot-long blades mounted in each of her forearms, spring-loaded and ready to eject out from the tops of her wrists at any moment. As Nikki pressed down on that spot on her neck again—a soft touch sensor on her muscular layer—her skin returned and solidified again into that realistic texture and toughness, leaving no trace of the advanced biohybridic robotic systems lying just beneath.
"I'm not a cyborg. I'm... something new..." she vaguely stated, before firmly grabbing both of Mara's shoulders and looking into her eyes pleadingly. She was surprisingly strong for someone so diminutive. But Mara would now know exactly the reason why Nikki was that way. "Please don't tell anyone. I think Cëll knows a little. But if the wrong people find out... they might come after me...!"
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