Do just what I tell you, and no one will get hurt
WHO: Cassandra and Bruno and a bunch of thugs who are really in the wrong place at the wrong time.
WHERE: Some back-alley asscrack of the City.
WHEN: Laaaate Friday night/early Saturday morning
WARNINGS: Cass beatin' the shit out some folks. Also later there may be knives, and the cutting of people with knives. And by people I mean robots.
SUMMARY: Bruno kind of lost it after seeing his own memory play and having the-- literally-- unforgettable fact that he is almost certainly a robot burned into his skull, and ran off into the bowels of the City to be alone and listen to Linkin Park or something. Then he walks in on a perfectly normal human commiting wanton violence on some other perfectly normal humans.
FORMAT: Another completely self-indulgent 9000 word intro followed by something doubtless much less stupid.
Bruno... wasn't sure how long he had been out here. Less than a day and a half, because the sun hadn't risen more than once. But he had been hiding in that abandoned building a long time, and he could have fallen asleep...
Bruno let that thought drift around in his head for a moment as he leaned motionless against the freezing brick wall of the alley, his head bowed and his vision focused on nothing. Then he pressed a hand over one eye and his mouth twisted into something that no one would ever call a smile and he laughed, a choking bitter thing that didn't even sound enough like a sob to make someone feel sorry for you, and a homeless man further down the alley just gave Bruno a look like he was nuts and decided he'd try his luck at another dumpster. Bruno barely noticed.
Of course he hadn't. He wasn't tired. He hadn't slept in two days, but he hadn't been tired once. Or hungry, or thirsty, or cold enough to start shivering. He was wearing a coat he'd found, but it was just so that he could use the hood to hide his hair, because one guy pointing a gun at him and calling him an "ImPorted shitstain!" was more than enough. (Bruno had dodged the bullet and bent the gun barrel and left the guy with a broken finger. He wasn't sure if he felt bad about the last part or not.)
After a moment the joyless laugh tapered off, and Bruno pressed his other hand to his eyes too and groaned in frustration. He couldn't just stay out here forever like this, he had to do something. The problem was that he had no idea what.
He couldn't go home. He couldn't go to his barely-used MAC apartment, because Crow knew the room number and would check there eventually. He couldn't go stay with any of his friends because he was afraid to be near anyone right now, let alone the people he cared about. He couldn't post to the network asking for advice because there was no way he could filter it from everyone who happened to know him, and even anonymous someone might figure it out because of the timing.
He didn't want anyone to know. He didn't want his friends to worry, but right now he prefered them thinking he'd gotten ported out over any of them ... any of them knowing. Knowing what he was.
Bruno took a slow, trembling, unecessary breath and pushed himself back off the wall again, bowing his head and pulling the hood back low over his eyes and getting back to the slow business of walking to nowhere. People asked less questions if you looked like you had somewhere to be.
WHERE: Some back-alley asscrack of the City.
WHEN: Laaaate Friday night/early Saturday morning
WARNINGS: Cass beatin' the shit out some folks. Also later there may be knives, and the cutting of people with knives. And by people I mean robots.
SUMMARY: Bruno kind of lost it after seeing his own memory play and having the-- literally-- unforgettable fact that he is almost certainly a robot burned into his skull, and ran off into the bowels of the City to be alone and listen to Linkin Park or something. Then he walks in on a perfectly normal human commiting wanton violence on some other perfectly normal humans.
FORMAT: Another completely self-indulgent 9000 word intro followed by something doubtless much less stupid.
Bruno... wasn't sure how long he had been out here. Less than a day and a half, because the sun hadn't risen more than once. But he had been hiding in that abandoned building a long time, and he could have fallen asleep...
Bruno let that thought drift around in his head for a moment as he leaned motionless against the freezing brick wall of the alley, his head bowed and his vision focused on nothing. Then he pressed a hand over one eye and his mouth twisted into something that no one would ever call a smile and he laughed, a choking bitter thing that didn't even sound enough like a sob to make someone feel sorry for you, and a homeless man further down the alley just gave Bruno a look like he was nuts and decided he'd try his luck at another dumpster. Bruno barely noticed.
Of course he hadn't. He wasn't tired. He hadn't slept in two days, but he hadn't been tired once. Or hungry, or thirsty, or cold enough to start shivering. He was wearing a coat he'd found, but it was just so that he could use the hood to hide his hair, because one guy pointing a gun at him and calling him an "ImPorted shitstain!" was more than enough. (Bruno had dodged the bullet and bent the gun barrel and left the guy with a broken finger. He wasn't sure if he felt bad about the last part or not.)
After a moment the joyless laugh tapered off, and Bruno pressed his other hand to his eyes too and groaned in frustration. He couldn't just stay out here forever like this, he had to do something. The problem was that he had no idea what.
He couldn't go home. He couldn't go to his barely-used MAC apartment, because Crow knew the room number and would check there eventually. He couldn't go stay with any of his friends because he was afraid to be near anyone right now, let alone the people he cared about. He couldn't post to the network asking for advice because there was no way he could filter it from everyone who happened to know him, and even anonymous someone might figure it out because of the timing.
He didn't want anyone to know. He didn't want his friends to worry, but right now he prefered them thinking he'd gotten ported out over any of them ... any of them knowing. Knowing what he was.
Bruno took a slow, trembling, unecessary breath and pushed himself back off the wall again, bowing his head and pulling the hood back low over his eyes and getting back to the slow business of walking to nowhere. People asked less questions if you looked like you had somewhere to be.