[ you are doing what you’re good at: hacking. it doesn’t matter exactly where— somewhere with metallic floors, rusted walls and overgrowth pushing through cracks of concrete. it’s sunny outside, you could tell by the bright light seeping through the stone fractures from where you hide.
that’s right. you’re hiding. you’re not authorized to be doing whatever it is that you’re doing. you’re going through yoRHa’s files. you’re going through extremely classified reports. ]
9S, [ 2B’s voice is stern, but you can’t make out where it’s coming from. only the hollow clicks of her heels approaching from within the empty building structure. she’s found you, and she’s near. ] don’t.
[ it turns into a clear warning, not a suggestion. does your curiosity win? do you open the files? ]
[ it was instant. opened meant it was accessed and her factory unit was triggered, the protocol was engaged and YoRHa was notified. the wall that separated them is kicked into shambles, one single boot destroys what's between them and sends a flurry of debris into him (it). 9S, in 2B's eyes beneath her black visors, is grabbed from the front and tossed like a ragdoll in a cage match.
it's almost as if he (it) is no longer her friend.
in a matter of seconds, the combat android has the hacker's torso straddled between her thighs and pinned under impossible weight. her blade is drawn, and the sharpened tip threatens his (its) fragile, pulsing jugular. 2B's actions are precise. her lips are tight— in a fraction of a second, they twitch, and threaten to pull downwards, but she fights to keep it straight. she fails. wetness beads down one side of her cheek, just one, and in a whispered beginning of a gasp: ]
[ he (it) would not remember this. it is why 2B inhales so shakily, drops her sword with its high-pitched clattering against the ground, and cups his (its) face. her forehead presses to his (its), just a brush of their noses away— she whispers, and just as silently her hands snake around his (its) neck in a deadly caress.
she squeezes like she would a pulp. it is not gentle. she goes not for veins and arteries, but for muscle and deep bone to snap. ]
[ she doesn’t want to know. not knowing already brings her pain. what if she knew?
she’d rather this hideous cycle simply cease. with “9S” on the ground and murdered by her hands, crushed airways and bone— she responds to her report with a frigid heart, feeling heavy, numb, and her eyes wet with silent tears. ]
This is 2E. [ not 2B. 2E. ] Target 9S— termination: confirmed.
[ confirmed, says pod. suggestion: wipe personal data and reinstall factory settings.
2E does not question it. she simply picks herself up with a tight face and twisted wet lips, with one whisper of a request: ]
[ Murderbot comes to in the back of The Entertainment Feed, its body coursing with adrenaline. Despite nothing going on there, only a construct holding a miniature copy of Pod made from bone, every measure shoots through the roof.
A warning pops up about Murderbot's performance reliability. It ignores it. A hard shutdown would reset everything, but those hurt like fuck. It's never done that on purpose. Away from the terrible situation, it's not starting now.
Instead, Murderbot starts watching The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon again while it looks at 2B's contact information. Eventually it sends her a message. ]
What happened to the other android in your memory book from September—9S?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
WINTER MOURNING
that’s right. you’re hiding. you’re not authorized to be doing whatever it is that you’re doing. you’re going through yoRHa’s files. you’re going through extremely classified reports. ]
9S, [ 2B’s voice is stern, but you can’t make out where it’s coming from. only the hollow clicks of her heels approaching from within the empty building structure. she’s found you, and she’s near. ] don’t.
[ it turns into a clear warning, not a suggestion. does your curiosity win? do you open the files? ]
no subject
It hits open. ]
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it's almost as if he (it) is no longer her friend.
in a matter of seconds, the combat android has the hacker's torso straddled between her thighs and pinned under impossible weight. her blade is drawn, and the sharpened tip threatens his (its) fragile, pulsing jugular. 2B's actions are precise. her lips are tight— in a fraction of a second, they twitch, and threaten to pull downwards, but she fights to keep it straight. she fails. wetness beads down one side of her cheek, just one, and in a whispered beginning of a gasp: ]
Why . . . Do you keep doing this—?
no subject
We deserve to know.
[ We. That means her too. ]
no subject
[ he (it) would not remember this. it is why 2B inhales so shakily, drops her sword with its high-pitched clattering against the ground, and cups his (its) face. her forehead presses to his (its), just a brush of their noses away— she whispers, and just as silently her hands snake around his (its) neck in a deadly caress.
she squeezes like she would a pulp. it is not gentle. she goes not for veins and arteries, but for muscle and deep bone to snap. ]
—Goodbye.
no subject
Please—
Know—
Live—
[ That's all it can manage before it's gone. ]
no subject
she’d rather this hideous cycle simply cease. with “9S” on the ground and murdered by her hands, crushed airways and bone— she responds to her report with a frigid heart, feeling heavy, numb, and her eyes wet with silent tears. ]
This is 2E. [ not 2B. 2E. ] Target 9S— termination: confirmed.
[ confirmed, says pod. suggestion: wipe personal data and reinstall factory settings.
2E does not question it. she simply picks herself up with a tight face and twisted wet lips, with one whisper of a request: ]
I don’t want to do this anymore—
no subject
A warning pops up about Murderbot's performance reliability. It ignores it. A hard shutdown would reset everything, but those hurt like fuck. It's never done that on purpose. Away from the terrible situation, it's not starting now.
Instead, Murderbot starts watching The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon again while it looks at 2B's contact information. Eventually it sends her a message. ]
What happened to the other android in your memory book from September—9S?
no subject
[ she doesn’t know why it’s asking. she refrains from asking back. ]
no subject
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He backed up my personal data first.
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Did you get to know him again after that?
no subject
Many times.
no subject
What's that like? Getting to know someone... again over and over? Isn't it awkward?
no subject
no subject
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Do what?
no subject
[ It's out there now. Hopefully 2B doesn't feel compelled to kill it for knowing. ]
no subject
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Does how matter when we don't have control over it happening?