PIPE WRENCH FIGHT [Open]

[unrecovered]

Who: Wash and anyone who wants to join
Where: Network and fighting ring
When: Early November, a few days before the Akvos world jump
Rating: TBD depending on thread content
What: Wash starts the Circle's first fight club. Kind of.

[This will be poster's choice - I'll put the network invitation in Wash's toplevel, but the long and short of it is, he'll be holding combat training for those who want to learn how to fight, and those who want to help teach are open as well. Feel free to make toplevels learning and/or teaching, and let me know if you need anything more or want prompt ideas!]

Comments

[bleps]

[It’s an interesting viewpoint, an ironically fair one, and Connor takes a moment to turn the response over in his head. Requiring proof of ability, of applicable skill, before earning trust. That was no different than being presented with evidence and casting judgment only after the fact — hard to argue against it. The logical part of Connor agrees with this, half of him manufactured to work on a foundation of logic and fact, and to draw up conclusions based on that alone.

Yet there’s the other half, the sort that any detective worth their salt possesses — gut instinct, hunches based on some invisible read of a situation that’s hard to pin down, hard to quantify. The two work in tandem with each other, but sometimes, such as when Hei asks if he believes in each and every one of the people here, they circle each other like a pair of distrusting predators, and he has to decide which to rely upon more.

Connor walks down a step. Bends over just enough to pick up the bottle that had clattered on its side, then turns to look at Hei. (No point in needless litter; could also be a hazard for someone not paying attention as they descended to the grounds below.)]

I haven’t acquainted myself with every Circle member here, but I believe there is utility for all of them, yes. Even if it’s not immediately apparent.

[This feels like the beginning of a more extended conversation, and he realizes that it’s impolite to loom while someone else sits. So back up another step, a half-turn and the movement to sit. He settles down at a respectable distance from Hei, his back straight, shifting maybe only once while he turns his head to look at him. Connor taps at the empty wine bottle once before he sets it down next to him.]

And I don’t just mean because of the powers that Astoria has granted all of us. If you take the time to speak with the individuals in this place, you’ll learn that there’s an odd… uniqueness to everyone’s story. Their worlds, their backgrounds, what they were once capable of doing, what their objectives were before coming here.

[A beat.] It’s an odd trend. But it must have meaning; insofar as the “witch” sees it, anyway.

[dipolar]

(at least this guy's speaking his language, now, addressing their usefulness instead of their personal qualities. even if the conversation tips in that direction, sensing preferential treatment in the way connor speaks of them, he's not filling his ears with garbage about how they're good people and should be dealt with accordingly.

hei hates that. the piety. the idea that there's only two settings — good and bad — for human beings.

wearily, he glances down at the wine bottle then back up.)

Everyone has different qualities, some more or less than others. It doesn't change the fact that going head to head with the darkness of worlds we shouldn't meddle with will only leave black marks on their souls. (why involve those who haven't had their lives touched by anything supernatural or extraordinary, when they could be left well enough alone without memories that'll no doubt haunt them?

as it stands, even the fact they've been kidnapped is too much. normal should stay normal. fucked up though he is, even hei knows that much.

letting a silence blanket their conversation, unblinking stare aimed across their seat at the side of connor's face, the contractor lifts a hand in a loose, distracted gesture.)

What the hell's that light on your head?

[bleps]

[The darkness of worlds, leaving black marks on their souls. The phrasing is interesting, and though Connor won't ascribe a soul to what he is, he understands the point. Finds it… unfortunate, being conscripted into the Circle against their wills. He thinks of that first day here, of trying to understand what was happening; of being so far away from Detroit and yet still feeling its shadow on his back, the brush of its proverbial fingers across the nape of his neck. He had been dissatisfied, to say the least, with the situation.

Months later, he’s acclimated in ways that might surprise even CyberLife. But looking at himself, in ways that only he can see, maybe Hei isn’t wrong about it having left something irreparable in the spaces between each single line of code.

So, it’s hard to argue against the point.]

The kidnapping itself is hard to paint in a more flattering light; I won’t say otherwise. But in a case where we have no choice, we can only make the best of what we’re given, to achieve what we need to do.

[Silence falls, lingering for a long enough to make Connor think the conversation might’ve halted there. But Hei stares languidly at him, rooting him to his seat, and out comes the question.

One he’s been asked repeatedly while he’s here. A half-second pause, then an explanation that sounds like it’s been delivered FIVE hUNDRred times-]

The light on my right temple is an LED — a light emitting diode — to, firstly, indicate my status as an android and to make me distinguishable from humans. Its secondary function is to reflect my overall status by means of color: blue, yellow, and red. Blue, as you see it, is a baseline state. 'Normal', essentially.

[dipolar]

We have no choice, so you default to helping out? It must be easy to ignore the consequences of your actions when you're kept in the dark about the results. What you need to do is ask more questions. Not that I plan to... or provide much help, for that matter.

(at that, hei seems to rewind a bit, an eye narrowing as he listens to connor's explanation. light emitting diode. android.)

...

—ah. So you're one of those robots. ("those" and "robots" don't pair too nicely together, but at least he's managed to acclimate to the idea of machines running around without their human tethers.

hei had the strange opportunity to make one's acquaintance before, a few years ago now. champ was less talkative than connor and far less lifelike, that's for sure, relying on a noisy contractor to speak on his behalf most of the time. he did him more than a few favours before his death — he's got nothing against them or the logic they prefer to deal in. it's almost comforting in a way, how similar they are to his own kind.

humans always were more emotional.)

I read the arguments you started in that guy's network thread.

[bleps]

[He’s the most annoying android in the Circle — he’s asked plenty of questions, of the people here, the natives of the worlds they visit (just the one, thus far), and of Astoria herself. But coming up with unsatisfactory results, or at least incomplete information, isn’t a reason for stagnancy. Connor, who wasn’t designed to sit on his hands and wait. Connor, who needs to adhere to an objective of some sort or else he feels like he’s turned into something useless. Even their stretch of downtime at the Temple can be difficult for him.

But... whether or not he was going to utter this justification is nothing but conjecture now. Those robots get absolutely no reaction from him, Connor’s return stare as even as before — he’s used to far worse rhetoric.

The arguments he started in “that guy’s network thread”? That does earn a downward trend of a frown, funnily enough.]

I hadn’t commented with the sole intent to argue. [Yeah you did] She’s—

[Sometimes you don’t realize the consequences of putting your shit on blast until it’s too late. Thanks, North.]

...I’m sorry if that facilitated a bad first impression. We should start over. My name is Connor. What’s yours?

[This is better.]

[dipolar]

Connor. You must be American, or maybe robots have no nationality...

(his accent softens the name and every word after it, "r" dropped entirely. nothing's ever betrayed his disposition so absolutely, voice quiet, calm, and casual, but he's also been slurring on challenging words. in peak form.)

Women are stubborn and far more liable to win an argument unless you shut them up with force. That's just how things are. (looking him over with a low click of his tongue, as though disappointed.) But to air your issues out so publicly... that's not going to do you any favours.

(tough love, alright. hei who even are you.)

You should calm down or people will pick at your frustrations, embarrassing you further.

[bleps]

[Nationality for androids only ever extends as far as the origin of their manufacturer — CyberLife, a decidedly American company. Hei is both correct and incorrect on both counts, which surely means something, having only guessed at it.]

I was manufactured in Detroit. Do you know of the city? [And Connor’s own accent, so very painfully American, was tweaked to match. Yet language and how it’s parsed here is a strange thing. Proven by experimentation with Konoha, the latter of which didn’t exactly take to it very well, but the experience had been informative.

But that’s neither here nor there. Connor is too observant to not catch snatches of Hei’s own quirks of tongue, slurred as it might be from overconsumption of alcohol. Noted, but not commented upon; not when he’s being presented with something like disappointment from the other, sentiment that very rarely rests easily on Connor’s shoulders.

Fingers flex gently into the curves of his knees, but his gaze is steady.

you should calm down is the best advice he’s ever gotten, full stop]

Her arguments are flawed. Relying more on her— [arguments pivoting around error] —stubbornness than a willingness to see reason. But I don’t expect much else at this point. And I didn’t write anything that I’m not willing to say to anyone else who asks.

[A defense shored up without revealing too much. No need, if Hei was privy to all that was exchanged, and besides. Hei. You didn’t answer his question.]

What’s your name? [HE REPEATS, ANNOYINGLY.]

[dipolar]

I've heard of Detroit, but I don't know the state. America's one place I haven't been.

(and he has no desire to go, having upset both the US army and the CIA. being a wanted man puts restrictions on vacation destinations, no easy way to cross the pond without being noticed even with all of his fake papers and forged passport — they always fucking sniff him out at the borders.

hei's obviously listening with his head tipped in connor's direction, but he's no longer looking at him. no more checking out the merchandise, he's seen enough.

a human-looking robot. it's too fucking creepy.)

I'm Hei. It's— I also think you're barking up the wrong tree there. (almost spills a mouthful of wine on his chest when he goes for another sip, heavy arm tough to maneuver.) She's stubborn, so work around it. You can't force someone like that to agree with you, that's what's unreasonable. The English saying is "you catch more flies with honey," not...

(a long pause, making him wait for it.)

... "text her some foolish shit." Women don't like to be told they're wrong.

(take it from him, he grew up with three of the most aggressive women on the planet.)

[bleps]

Detroit, Michigan. Year 2038. [Information that Hei didn’t exactly ask for, but he’s being provided with anyway. For the sake of clarification, and for the opportunity to compare and contrast worlds, if the other is willing. America being the one place he hasn’t been is interesting verbiage, implying a lifestyle centered around travel — whether required or willing is another matter entirely. Details tucked away for later, to let them grow into full-fledged questions when the conversation takes a different track. And he’s even provided a name this time, committed to memory with laughable ease.

But the android has gone and lost eye contact, something that has him reassessing both words and demeanor in an attempt to preclude any misstep on his part. He finds nothing, really, other than the subject matter at hand; that or the drink has something to do with it, coupled with the potential of unease of what he is. (Wouldn’t be the first time in this place.)

Mercurial concern buds in his chest as he watches the almost-spill take place. Reminds him too much of Hank, the association impossible to tamp down, though the judgment is… carefully withdrawn for now.]

The situation is more complicated than that. But I appreciate the advice, regardless, and I’ll take it into consideration.

[The main issue being: they’re both too stubborn, in the end.]

You seem to have a jaded opinion about women in general. May I ask you why that is?

[dipolar]

(2038.

hei can't even wrap his head around it, but he also figures he won't be alive in the thirty years it'll take him to get to connor's point in the future. this whole spacetime thing is fucking with him.)

No. (comes the curt response.) It's factual, that's all you need to know. I'd say the same about prideful men, since it's also true. You don't seem to be an exception, despite being...

(uh.)

—you look like a person.

[bleps]

[2038, he would supply, is nothing compared to some of the "futures" that others hail from. The wide variety of histories, of species, of alternate Earths and universes with no Earth at all. The vastness of time and space that would send most theoretical physicists into a tizzy. Circumstances that CyberLife certainly never prepared him for; adaptive subroutines and his own wayward sense of judgment being the only guiding force he had where any of that was concerned.]

An android. [He repeats himself a second time, following up on that "despite being..." which hangs figuratively in his vision like something that needs to addressed and clarified.] That's the point; I'm designed to look as human as possible, to sound as human as possible, and even to adapt alongside them as effectively as possible. Any discrepancies in that would be counterproductive.

[Hei states it as if it's a bad thing, though. Like there still exists that downward dip in uncanny valley, despite Connor looking exactly like a human with the exception of identifying markers, such as the aforementioned LED that spins blue on his temple.]

I don't seem to be the exception? Regarding what? Pride?

[STUBBORNNESS]

[dipolar]

(designed to look the same, act the same, and sink into their lives unnoticed. while providing them with everything they need to have an easier life while making everyone else's miserable. hei's tickled by this, actually indulging in a bullish snort.)

Humans.

(they're so damn selfish. contractors too, maybe, but that's why it's foolish for them to despise one another. they're inherently the same.

of course, hei's a hypocrite. he treads both sides of the line.)

The people who made you... those kinds of people make me sick, obsessed with the idea of improving things for others when it all boils down to money. You're more stubborn (yeah, there it is) than I expected, despite your inhumanity. So, ah, maybe you're not all that far off either.