CONNOR // RK800 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
instabilitatem) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
etrayalogs2025-03-06 11:57 am
instabilitatem) wrote in etrayalogs2025-03-06 11:57 am
These tough feelings are hard to cut off } Max, Robert, Ithaqua
instabilitatem
2025-03-06 05:10 pm (UTC)(link)
[The call comes early in the morning, a flip of a switch in Connor's programming that tells him to go. Today is the day. He rises from where he'd been sitting and sets about barricading Hank into his room. A chair is pushed up under the handle, a bookcase quietly pressed against the door proper. It's good enough for Connor and now he needs to proceed to step two.
He knows Max has a gun and Connor has the strong feeling that he will be needing such a weapon, even if he's not technically allowed to handle a weapon. That question is unimportant. What matters now is that he completes the mission.
Making his way to the junkyard, Connor knows that this next part could be difficult, but he'll need to muscle through it.
All for the mission.
He navigates around the piles of useless things until he finds Max.
"Good morning, Max," Connor announces his presence. "I have something I need to discuss with you."
He knows Max has a gun and Connor has the strong feeling that he will be needing such a weapon, even if he's not technically allowed to handle a weapon. That question is unimportant. What matters now is that he completes the mission.
Making his way to the junkyard, Connor knows that this next part could be difficult, but he'll need to muscle through it.
All for the mission.
He navigates around the piles of useless things until he finds Max.
"Good morning, Max," Connor announces his presence. "I have something I need to discuss with you."
[With the gun from Max and blood on his jacket, Connor makes his way to the hospital. With the traitors cut away, there should be very little in the way of him completing the mission. He steps into the elevator and presses the button for the basement.
The elevator begins to descend and Connor looks at his reflection. His mussed hair, the blood of Robert, Max, and Ithaqua splattered on his jacket.
No. He can't think of them. He must think of only the mission. The elevator opens and Connor steps out, programming buzzing with how close he is to completing the mission. He steps up to the machinery and pulls out a wedge by the handle. He scans it and confirms that this should be what he's looking for before turning on his heel.
Only to see a familiar face standing in the way.]
Hank, I must complete my mission. [Connor says, his tone tight. He's deeply aware of the weight of the pistol tucked behind him; he doesn't want to have to shoot Hank, too.]
The elevator begins to descend and Connor looks at his reflection. His mussed hair, the blood of Robert, Max, and Ithaqua splattered on his jacket.
No. He can't think of them. He must think of only the mission. The elevator opens and Connor steps out, programming buzzing with how close he is to completing the mission. He steps up to the machinery and pulls out a wedge by the handle. He scans it and confirms that this should be what he's looking for before turning on his heel.
Only to see a familiar face standing in the way.]
Hank, I must complete my mission. [Connor says, his tone tight. He's deeply aware of the weight of the pistol tucked behind him; he doesn't want to have to shoot Hank, too.]
Edited 2025-03-06 17:24 (UTC)
[Max has been scavenging through the heaps of debris to find some decent bits and pieces: leather straps, nuts and bolts to strip out of old hardware, any kind of chain or rope. They're carefully laid out over an old blanket, the kind you could just pull together at the corners and hold like some old bum walking down a railroad. This is a pretty typical way to find him these days; if anything, he almost seems calm and relaxed by these ritualistic morning tasks.
His guard is down more than usual. He'll regret it later.
There have been less ghosts buzzing around him today, and he's keeping his hands busy, and Connor is nosy. So he wipes some oil off on his pants that came from an old abandoned engine he was tooth-picking for pieces, and turns toward Connor's voice with mild interest.]
Mm.
['What is it', that little sound of acknowledgement says. When Connor has something to discuss that begins that way, it usually has something to do with the mission, or the state of Etraya, or someone he's ran into here. Maybe that Hank guy's been getting through to him a little; maybe he's questioning something, anything, about why they're here and what they should do.
Either way, he's listening. He walks off the scrap he'd been balancing on, back to solid ground. Connor can probably run the numbers — not vulnerable enough yet, too forward facing, gun not in proper grabbing distance. A waiting game of when.]
His guard is down more than usual. He'll regret it later.
There have been less ghosts buzzing around him today, and he's keeping his hands busy, and Connor is nosy. So he wipes some oil off on his pants that came from an old abandoned engine he was tooth-picking for pieces, and turns toward Connor's voice with mild interest.]
Mm.
['What is it', that little sound of acknowledgement says. When Connor has something to discuss that begins that way, it usually has something to do with the mission, or the state of Etraya, or someone he's ran into here. Maybe that Hank guy's been getting through to him a little; maybe he's questioning something, anything, about why they're here and what they should do.
Either way, he's listening. He walks off the scrap he'd been balancing on, back to solid ground. Connor can probably run the numbers — not vulnerable enough yet, too forward facing, gun not in proper grabbing distance. A waiting game of when.]
Edited 2025-03-06 17:29 (UTC)
[Connor is very used to the one-word or grunted answers. They've spent so much time together that Connor doesn't pause at all.]
I need to borrow your gun.
[His tone is firm, very much not in the mood for questions. He needs the gun, end of story.]
I need to borrow your gun.
[His tone is firm, very much not in the mood for questions. He needs the gun, end of story.]
[Max's sunbeaten brow scrunches.
... Not what he was expecting. Even a little. He runs a couple of possible reasons through his head — comes away a little paranoid, a little uncertain. Could be that there's some danger Connor isn't immediately divulging. Could be something more nefarious. Max may trust him somewhat, but — Max's trust is also a very, very shallow puddle.]
What reason?
[If he takes a slight step back, it's instinctual.
As you know, he's quite protective of his things.]
... Not what he was expecting. Even a little. He runs a couple of possible reasons through his head — comes away a little paranoid, a little uncertain. Could be that there's some danger Connor isn't immediately divulging. Could be something more nefarious. Max may trust him somewhat, but — Max's trust is also a very, very shallow puddle.]
What reason?
[If he takes a slight step back, it's instinctual.
As you know, he's quite protective of his things.]
The mission. [Connor states plainly.] It's time, Catdog.
[The use of the ridiculous nickname sort of undermines how serious Connor's tone is.]
I will need it if I face resistance in the hospital.
[The use of the ridiculous nickname sort of undermines how serious Connor's tone is.]
I will need it if I face resistance in the hospital.
[Honestly, in any other situation, the ridiculous nickname would earn another eyeroll. But it's a little different to be anything but immediately on edge when the news is dropped in his lap... So it didn't work in the end, huh? He'd hoped time and effort would get Connor to reconsider — but it's like he'd told Furiosa, isn't it? The guy was wired a certain way, the kind you might not be able to just break out of.
Either way, Max has already made up his mind. Furiosa's arrival had made it an immediate change of what little heart was in the mission, but the facts are there all the same: in this place, there are people here who shouldn't suffer because of them. He can't have that on his conscience, not with how flimsy that conscience is — how easily it's smothered by guilt. Good people here. Decent, anyway. Kids, too. If he were to finish what they demanded of him, then people could go hungry.
And a once hungry man knows better than anyone, just how cruel that could be.]
No.
We're not doing it.
Either way, Max has already made up his mind. Furiosa's arrival had made it an immediate change of what little heart was in the mission, but the facts are there all the same: in this place, there are people here who shouldn't suffer because of them. He can't have that on his conscience, not with how flimsy that conscience is — how easily it's smothered by guilt. Good people here. Decent, anyway. Kids, too. If he were to finish what they demanded of him, then people could go hungry.
And a once hungry man knows better than anyone, just how cruel that could be.]
No.
We're not doing it.
Yes, we are. I am completing the mission.
[Connor steps closer to Max, his gaze cold and unfeeling. Like a machine. He clearly has no qualms about stealing from Aurora and leaving Etraya to starve. He doesn't want Max or Robert or Ithaqua to come to harm, but if push comes to shove he will.
There are signs of possibly deviancy, but he's not responding to it yet.]
[Connor steps closer to Max, his gaze cold and unfeeling. Like a machine. He clearly has no qualms about stealing from Aurora and leaving Etraya to starve. He doesn't want Max or Robert or Ithaqua to come to harm, but if push comes to shove he will.
There are signs of possibly deviancy, but he's not responding to it yet.]
Connor. The fuck are you doing?
[His mission, of course. Just as he said. But why now? Why like this?]
That’s not your blood. [Hank says this deadpan. Squinting at the red on Connor’s jacket.
There’s nothing in Hank’s hands. He would’ve held his own gun, once. But would he have been able to shoot Connor if he really had to? To protect this fucked up little world of Etraya?
Hank doesn’t know. Vincent told him once — shoved it in Hank’s face, really — that he cares. Despite what Hank might say — “fuck this, fuck that, fuck Etraya” — he cares about the people here. Most of them strangers.
And Connor told Hank he’d do the right thing.]
You told me — [hands raised, palms out, as he takes a step toward Connor] — that everyone was going to be okay.
[Until they got to Solmara, maybe, but what matters right now is talking Connor down. Keeping him from following his bullshit programming. Because he is a good person, just like Hank told him. And he matters.
So goddamn much.]
Don’t tell me that was a lie, Connor.
You're not completing anything.
[He takes another step back, fingers twitching. Preparing to pull the gun Connor so coldly demands. Maybe he'd been wrong — maybe Connor was just a thinking computer, some kind of creation that can only do as its instructed. It's hard to believe that, though, when he thinks about how hungry he'd been in the wake of Alrys' punishments.
There's no one around. The junkyard is eerily quiet today. A paradise for someone who loves isolation; a bad idea for someone who is being threatened by an android on a mission. His hand drifts toward his weapon.
... He might have to shoot him. Nothing else to it. Maybe a few shots to the leg.
That could do it. How likely does an android stop, when injured?]
It's wrong. You know it is.
[He takes another step back, fingers twitching. Preparing to pull the gun Connor so coldly demands. Maybe he'd been wrong — maybe Connor was just a thinking computer, some kind of creation that can only do as its instructed. It's hard to believe that, though, when he thinks about how hungry he'd been in the wake of Alrys' punishments.
There's no one around. The junkyard is eerily quiet today. A paradise for someone who loves isolation; a bad idea for someone who is being threatened by an android on a mission. His hand drifts toward his weapon.
... He might have to shoot him. Nothing else to it. Maybe a few shots to the leg.
That could do it. How likely does an android stop, when injured?]
It's wrong. You know it is.
Edited 2025-03-06 18:46 (UTC)
Don’t make me do this, Hank.
[Connor draws the pistol from behind his back as Hank approaches. Hid LED spins wildly from yellow to red and back. He knows there’s blood on him, knows that he’s already hurt people to get this far. The wedge in his hand is the last thing he needs to complete the mission his programming is buzzing about.
He just needs to get Hank out of the way.
Connor brandishes the gun, damaged plates visible now. He cocks the gun, puts his finger on the trigger.]
Move, Hank.
[Connor draws the pistol from behind his back as Hank approaches. Hid LED spins wildly from yellow to red and back. He knows there’s blood on him, knows that he’s already hurt people to get this far. The wedge in his hand is the last thing he needs to complete the mission his programming is buzzing about.
He just needs to get Hank out of the way.
Connor brandishes the gun, damaged plates visible now. He cocks the gun, puts his finger on the trigger.]
Move, Hank.
Edited 2025-03-06 19:01 (UTC)
[Conner moves forward, his gaze darkening.]
We were sent here for a mission. It is not up to us to decide what is or isn’t wrong.
[Connor isn’t afraid to hurt Catdog if necessary. He steps closer still, ready to attack.]
Give me the gun.
We were sent here for a mission. It is not up to us to decide what is or isn’t wrong.
[Connor isn’t afraid to hurt Catdog if necessary. He steps closer still, ready to attack.]
Give me the gun.
Jesus fucking Christ, Connor.
[Something in Hank’s chest tightens. Squeezes.
Failure: that’s it. He’s failed Etraya, sure, but Connor especially. Couldn’t help him deviate. Still can’t.]
I’m not making you do anything. You’re the one with the goddamn gun.
[Looking real ready to shoot.
And the sad thing, maybe, is that Hank couldn’t really blame him if he did.]
If you’re gonna do it, then fucking do it. [Taking another slow step toward Connor.] Because you know we’re either staying here, together, or I die here. Alone.
[Another step.]
And you know which of those I want, Connor.
Hank.
[Hank is well within range, and the programming is screaming at him to shoot.
Shoot.
Shoot Hank.
Shoot.
…
…
…
No.
Connor attacks the wall of red, shatters one plate of shoot, then another. The crystalline crimson breaking under his fingers.
There’s one more wall and Connor smashes through it.
And then he’s looking at Hank with fresh eyes, notices he’s pointing a gun at Hank before he lowers it.]
[Hank is well within range, and the programming is screaming at him to shoot.
Shoot.
Shoot Hank.
Shoot.
…
…
…
No.
Connor attacks the wall of red, shatters one plate of shoot, then another. The crystalline crimson breaking under his fingers.
There’s one more wall and Connor smashes through it.
And then he’s looking at Hank with fresh eyes, notices he’s pointing a gun at Hank before he lowers it.]
['Max,' Glory's ghost says. 'Max...' Max ignores her voice; not real; just a hallucination, follows him at the worst times.
He curses how close Connor's gotten. Metaphorically, literally. Max isn't one to trust, and frankly, he'd known that it could come down to an intervention that involved violence. But he'd let his guard down. Had gotten too comfortable where he is, who he knows. Big mistake, one that could cost a lot of people.
His gun is in his hand, lightning fast — or as fast as a human tends to be, after decades of familiarizing themselves with the grip of a handgun. But despite Connor's short life so far... he's immediately intimate with handling weapons, isn't he? And just how well can he move through pain? Does he even feel pain the same way as them? Will a leg shot do anything?
- There's no time. He couldn't afford TO find softer ways to stop him.
Max instead whips the barrel of his gun toward Connor's chest. Or intends to, anyway.
But Glory's ghost is all he can see, standing with her forehead against the muzzle of his weapon. 'Don't do it, pa!' the little girl cries out (I'm not your pa-), and it's a split-second of panicked confusion that gives Connor all the time to make a grab for the gun.
His hand is still clutched iron-clad around the grip, and his finger hovers on the trigger... but it's plenty enough time for Connor to make his move for an upper hand.]
He curses how close Connor's gotten. Metaphorically, literally. Max isn't one to trust, and frankly, he'd known that it could come down to an intervention that involved violence. But he'd let his guard down. Had gotten too comfortable where he is, who he knows. Big mistake, one that could cost a lot of people.
His gun is in his hand, lightning fast — or as fast as a human tends to be, after decades of familiarizing themselves with the grip of a handgun. But despite Connor's short life so far... he's immediately intimate with handling weapons, isn't he? And just how well can he move through pain? Does he even feel pain the same way as them? Will a leg shot do anything?
- There's no time. He couldn't afford TO find softer ways to stop him.
Max instead whips the barrel of his gun toward Connor's chest. Or intends to, anyway.
But Glory's ghost is all he can see, standing with her forehead against the muzzle of his weapon. 'Don't do it, pa!' the little girl cries out (I'm not your pa-), and it's a split-second of panicked confusion that gives Connor all the time to make a grab for the gun.
His hand is still clutched iron-clad around the grip, and his finger hovers on the trigger... but it's plenty enough time for Connor to make his move for an upper hand.]
Edited (adding a little introspection i forgot OOP) 2025-03-06 19:34 (UTC)
[Hank’s eyes follow the gun as Connor lowers it. Then back up to his face.
Hank is confused. Relieved. Scared: about losing Connor. About how close they are to that — or were.]
I take it you’re not gonna shoot me, then.
[Hopeful, but still uncertain.]
[Connor’s LED spins red and then finally settles on blue again.
He is a deviant.
He will not shoot Hank.
He will not hurt Etraya.
Connor continues to lower his gun. He looks at the wedge in his hand then back up at Hank.]
No. I won’t.
He is a deviant.
He will not shoot Hank.
He will not hurt Etraya.
Connor continues to lower his gun. He looks at the wedge in his hand then back up at Hank.]
No. I won’t.
Are you...? Y’know. [Hank gestures vaguely with his hands.] Deviant?
[Is this what it’s like? One second Connor is ready to shoot him, and then the next...]
Are you okay? I mean, fucking hell, Connor. You’re all bloodied up, and is that a — did someone fucking bite you?
I think… I think I am. A deviant.
[Connor’s mind is spinning. He hurt Max. He hurt Ithaqua. He hurt Robert.]
I shot three people. Hank, they’re hurt.
[Connor’s mind is spinning. He hurt Max. He hurt Ithaqua. He hurt Robert.]
I shot three people. Hank, they’re hurt.
[Connor takes the hit but closes his hands around the gun at the last moment. His fingers tighten like a vice grip before he shifts his weight. Then he comes down on the leg contained within the brace. His heel smashes down on bone and flesh.]
Edited 2025-03-06 20:12 (UTC)
You didn’t... you didn’t do it on purpose, Connor.
[And that’s what Hank might say if he were the one shot, too. But he’s not.]
How bad? I mean, they’re not dead, right? And...
[He dreads the next question, but Hank’s gotta ask:]
Who did you shoot, Connor?
I can’t be confident they’re alive.
[Connor’s mind his spinning.]
Robert, Ithaqua, and Max.
[Or did he only kick Max? It all happened so fast.]
I shot them in the leg.
[He lifts the wedge he took from Aurora.]
I need to put this back. This is from Aurora.
[Connor’s mind his spinning.]
Robert, Ithaqua, and Max.
[Or did he only kick Max? It all happened so fast.]
I shot them in the leg.
[He lifts the wedge he took from Aurora.]
I need to put this back. This is from Aurora.
[The crunch of his knee brace mixes with the audible pop his knee gives. Stars in his eyes pave the way to a pain so excruciating he crumples to his good knee immediately; beneath his pant leg, he knows exactly what's just happened, because it wouldn't be the first time. Fucking asshole move, and as debilitating as the pain is, he is also immediately overcome with fury. Traitoring bastard hit him where it hurt, knew just where to make him crumple like a marionette. He's gonna knock his metal block off, if he doesn't die right here.
Shaking in pain and anger, he still clutches the gun for dear life; the other hand moves to grab Connor's arm, scrabble at the hand that's trying to pry the gun loose. He scratches, swipes, moves like an angry cat in a cage before he snaps his teeth into Connor's arm with an audible crunch.
Keep muzzled. Nobody can see the tattoo on his back to know that warning.]
Shaking in pain and anger, he still clutches the gun for dear life; the other hand moves to grab Connor's arm, scrabble at the hand that's trying to pry the gun loose. He scratches, swipes, moves like an angry cat in a cage before he snaps his teeth into Connor's arm with an audible crunch.
Keep muzzled. Nobody can see the tattoo on his back to know that warning.]
Edited 2025-03-06 20:24 (UTC)
[Connor takes full control of the gun as Catdog crumples like a puppet without strings. His programming is fighting against what he truly wants and he hates what’s happening in this moment.
But he needs the gun. He needs to reinforcement if he’a stopped on the way to Aurora.
And then there’s a crunch as plates break and thirium pours out of his arm.
Connor swings the gun with all his might in an attempt to knock Catdog out or at least down enough to release the bite.]
But he needs the gun. He needs to reinforcement if he’a stopped on the way to Aurora.
And then there’s a crunch as plates break and thirium pours out of his arm.
Connor swings the gun with all his might in an attempt to knock Catdog out or at least down enough to release the bite.]
Yeah. You do that, Connor.
[Hank watches him. Not that he doesn’t trust him to put it back — whatever the hell it is, exactly — but because everything’s happened so fast.
Connor is... deviant. Or so he thinks. And Hank is still alive. They both are.]
It’ll be okay, Connor. [Eventually, right? Hank hopes.] We’ll get them to the hospital, yeah? Tell Aurora, the little RoboCops, whatever.
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