Send me 'I want the K' and I'll generate a number...
5: Eyes gouged out
[Here there be gore. This is your warning.]
His first warning was when Vira dropped from the overhang of the building, her feet hitting the floor with enough force to crack and shatter it, infection racing through the fault lines of her impact. The overall blossoming effect was attractive, or would have been if she’d left Drezdan with enough time to process the sight. Instead, her gloved hand came up to grab his throat, shoving him back into the door he’d just exited.
“Dearest,” she began, a word that she never applied to anyone she gave a damn for, “we need to тαℓк.”
His hand was going for a baton, but she smirked and twirled the object around the fingers of her free hand, held beyond his reach. Pickpocketing, it seemed, rated high on her list of skills. “Looking for this?” she asked in a low, almost seductive tone, before she slammed the hard case down with on his shoulder, the hit far harder her size seemed to allow, sending him to his knees quickly. Without hesitation, she slammed the baton into his disc, jarring him out of sync as his vision pixilated into black.
When Drezdan woke up, Vira had dragged him far away from the facility where he had been working. By the looks of things, this was a back alley, one of the places even residents of the city wouldn’t go. Drezdan had scoffed at the programs’ fear, but now he realized there was nothing irrational about it, not if the virus had such free reign. His wrists were bound to a grating and his ankles bound together in knots he might’ve been able to undo with a few moments of focus; a luxury Vira seemed determined to deny him.
“Awake, finally.” The virus herself moved from where she leaned against the opposite wall. The gloves were still on, drawing a raised eyebrow from Drezdan.
“Am I infected?” A reasonable question, he felt, and a perfect opportunity to field test the new blocks he’d put on his disc, but all it earned him was a peal of laughter.
“ǀηfєctєɗ, sweet, no.” She took a step closer, her fingertips brushing over his cheek. He was separated from a possible excruciating death by only a few millimeters of suit, and it made his circuits brighten in response. Fight or flight, and the promise of a dangerous opponent - one who had the upper hand, unfortunately. Had their positions been reversed, it might have been perfect.
“I’m not going to try and get through whatever ѕυρρяєѕѕσяѕ you’ve put in your disc,” she continued, her tone even, although her eyes were skating over his body, assessing. “I do know about those; I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t. So that brings the question of how to punish you for writing them.” She leaned back, eyes locked on his. He took advantage of her new focus to start fumbling for one of the knots.
“Luckily, I have just the thing in mind, and it might just be more painful than infection.” She chuckled, her lips a bare inch from his, as though she might kiss him, like she’d kissed so many infected. “You’ll have to hold very, very still for me, sweet. Can you do that?”
She looked up at him from under her lashes with a coy smile. Drezdan could feel one of the knots giving way under his hand, but he knew with a sinking feeling it wouldn’t be quick enough. He rezzed his helmet, earning him another laugh from the she-virus. “Futile,” she commented softly. Her hand slid up his chest plate, lingering over a circuit, before clamping around his throat. Her smile became feral as she moved her free hand to the inserts on his helmet, not infecting, simply crushing. Her fingertips broke through quickly enough, and she ripped the faceplate off with a feral snarl, her sharp teeth bared.
One of Vira’s hands moved down to his jaw, holding it in place, as the other moved to stroke his hair back into place. “Keep still, му ɗєαя,” she reminded him in a sweet tone overlaid with a crackle of distortion, before her fingers traced down to the corner of his eye, along his cheekbone, until they found the soft spot between nose and eye. Vira smiled, giving him a moment to realize what she intented, before she pushed with all her strength. There was a sickening sucking, almost popping noise, and the crunch of pixels, and suddenly the whole side of his face was screaming in pain as voxels slipped from the empty eye socket. For a moment, he could see the virus through a haze of red sparks, and then half his vision was gone. It hurt, but he couldn’t let that overwhelm him, not yet.
He yanked his arm free of the tie, going for Vira’s throat and forcing her to focus on his grip or be strangled. Her opening let him yank his other hand free as well, getting both wrapped around her throat. Vira held her chin high as though this was something she was allowing him, as though she wasn’t in danger, even as cracks of yellow appeared on the front of her throat.
“Ɗєαяєѕт,” she bit out, before her (still gloved) hands came up to gently wrap around his wrists. He couldn’t touch her, couldn’t risk it with such a critical breach in his vessel, protection or no - and she had no such qualms. She pulled his hands away as she threw herself backwards, leaving him with nothing but a chunk of her render in his fingers to match the chunk she’d claimed from his. But as he watched her, there was already growth around the edges of her wound, her body healing itself - and to a program, so dependent on medics, self-healing was revolting on a deep level.
Vira’s hand came up to her throat, a choked noise escaping as she almost casually drove her heel into his stomach, forcing what little air he had out. “Y͟o̕u ̧a̧bs̵ól͝ute͝ ̸fu̶ck͡e͟r,” she hissed, her hand wrapping around his throat again, even as his hands sought hers, hindered by the pain and loss of vision. “I ͟şho̵ųl͜d i̸nf̨e̷c̶t̵ ́yoų and͝ ̕m̷ake͠ you̡ ̡s̴pend͜ ̧t̕ḩe̵ next͞ ͟se̕v͜e͝n͢ ̡cy͡c̵l̨e͞s͝ ͏l̴i͠c̷ki̧ng͞ m̧y͞ boots.͡”
She wasn’t even mockingly gentle now, as she forced his eyelid up and dug her fingers around behind the eye, sending his vision into fits of red and yellow sparks and flashing error warnings in his mind as black pixels danced over her face. His last sight was the gleam of his red circuitry off one white, sharp tooth in her smile; his hand found her throat and he could feel the vibration of her snarl as she ripped his eye out of its socket. She batted his hand away a moment later, and he couldn’t grab her again, not now, because he was blind, lost in a totally black world, and if he got her circuits it would end him.
“C͘͏h̶͝a͞r̷̸͜m͞į̀n̸g̢,” she spat. And then she was grabbing his face again - hadn’t she done enough? - and he felt a searing pain, like heat, where his eyes had been., but it couldn’t hurt more than the pain of his missing voxels. She shoved him to his knees again, away from her, and he hadn’t noticed until now how she sounded, but every slightly little hiss of her boot against the ground put him on edge.
“̵Those w͜o͘u͟n̨d͞s͜ ̷are͜ in͞fe͟c͘ted, now͘; c͘a̷u̧t͡e͠rized. I͢t̵ w̷o͟n’͠t̴ sp̡reád̴,̛” ́she cooed, the distortion still making her sound demonic. “̸T͜hank̨s͢ ̕to y̧ou̡ŗ ̶u̴pg͠rade͜s͏.̕ B̢ut̴ y̧ou͞ w͡i̷l̴l h̢a̷v͞e̡ q̀uite a ͘ti̢m̴e ҉t͏ry͘ing̵ to̡ get ̴you̵rs̢e̢lf͏ ̨repa͠ir͠e̴d with͝ ̕my c̵ode ̶h͢issinģ in̴ ỳo͜ur̨ éyes.̸”͟
He felt her touch his cheek again and he stiffened, feeling the voxels slipping over her hands. And then she - had she knelt? - leaned in and he felt a gentle, chaste kiss on his lips, but she was gone before he could go for her weakened throat.
“Run ҉al̢ơng ̕a͘nd҉ pla͟y,” she said coolly. He could hear the tap-tap-thump as she ran and launched herself onto a nearby rooftop, the hiss of her infection. And then Drezdan was alone, left broken in an alley, and with nothing to ward off other viruses.
۞ (Introduce them to meeeeeee! {Or Drezdan, so you get his reaction})
Send me a “۞” and I’ll introduce you to one of my other muses
James loved the darker parts of Los Angeles; the grit, the fear that rolled off of people, the way no one was missed. For a fear demon, it was as near to bliss as he could ever achieve. But this man looked different - he belonged on the better streets. James smirked, shifting into his 'younger' form before approaching.
"You look lost," he commented, his voice cool as he fell into step next to him. This close he could see the off inhumanity of the man; it would've probably been offputting to a human. "... and a little foreign. Where're you from, darling?"
A: Simple. Remind Ozias that he couldn’t save Roz from rectification, and that he merely stood beside her while she was committed to that fate. It’ll not only spark a glitch from his memory files, but he will be reminded of just how powerless he is overall, rendering him vulnerable to manipulation.
✚ for one of my muse’s prized possessions ✿ for a happy memory.
Send ✚ for one of my muse’s prized possessions
Ada’s disc. Without it she’d be defenseless, as well as decaying - basically, she’ll die before she gives it up.
Send ✿ for a happy memory.
Sitting down with Eckert when he was young and teaching him how to apply basic makeup. Being entertainers, they needed to know, and she remembers helping him apply it because he started laughing and she accidentally painted his lips white.
perfectdeletion replied to your post “27: What is their biggest regret? 35: What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time? ”
// The woes of an overachiever. (And I mean that in a positive way, not by its usual negative connotations.) Would the rectified version be the same, worse, or would she be more "selfish" and allow herself to enjoy things more often?
// Rectified Ada is a thousand times more selfish than Ada usually is. That first sentence of the headcanon - "If she enjoys it, Ada rarely finds something a waste of time" - is true a thousand times over when she's wearing red.
Rectified Ada drops most of Ada's usual and, in her mind, superfluous functions, which leaves plenty of time for her ... hobbies. Said hobbies range from keeping up with the latest gossip in town to basic self-defense lessons to 'mentoring' the rectified ISO to finding new bedmates for the evening.
And the perfected Administrator never, ever, considers her own indulgences a bad thing. If it makes her happy, then she'll probably go for it; after all, she's completing her functions with brutal efficiency, so why shouldn't she have fun in her downtime?
27: What is their biggest regret? 35: What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?
27: What is their biggest regret?
Probably sleeping with Cracked, and consequently allowing Vira into the world. Ada's trying to make amends by killing Vira, but that's a lot easier said than done.
35: What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?
If she enjoys it, Ada rarely finds something a waste of time. At the least, if it's making her happy, then it's doing something positive for her.
She really enjoys spending time with her friends, and she has a soft spot for dancing. But she barely has time for that anymore, and when she does, she usually feels a little guilty, because she could be doing other things.
The assignment had been unusual, but not too far out of line. The Occupation members were supposed to be keeping an eye on each other, so assigning them to look out for other members in particular wasn’t too farfetched. Ada hadn’t been part of the meeting to decide the new regulations, but she was high enough to understand the thought process behind it, and why no one was immune.
The Administrator had found herself paired with one of the Elite, which sat with her just fine. She didn’t want a millstone around her neck; she had things to do, and dragging a useless partner along would’ve driven her to distraction. Drezdan had proved an adequate companion; even Ada had come to appreciate his presence. Negotiations were far easier with the Elite hovering near her shoulder, and while she’d never thanked him, there was the occasional nod and held eye contact that she considered adequate. She was less helpful with his functions, except for the intimidation lent to her by her rank - the Elite rarely needed her particular brand of manipulation. Still, she’d made herself useful on one or two occasions, and so she hoped his reports (because there were always reports) were good.
They’d been working together for a dozen millicycles now, and since they had to spend their downtime together and Ada refused to let him in her apartment (not that she planned to confine herself there, companion or no), she’d dragged him to a club. It was on the shadier side of town, but not where they’d stand out too much. Ada knew which places were like that; it was her job to know places like that.
“Dance with me,” she said sharply, looking up at him through rectified red eyes. Her tone wasn’t a request so much as an order, and she stood sharply, leaving her drink on the table and holding out a hand to her companion. She waited until he met her eyes before smiling coyly, as though this was normal flirtation.
The elite walked up next to Ada, pushing away the host of the event as he tried to instruct Drezdan to bid back from the crowd. The guard brought to resolution his personal lightcycle next to him as he stated: "I'm bidding my LC Black Guard Edition with 4 cycles worth of upgrades along with my total servitude to... whoever this goes to, for my next 25 down-cycles." The Black Guard then undocked his disc and added: "And this will go through whoever bids after me."
My muse is auctioning off a date with them, in a charity auction. Come into my inbox to tell me how much your muse would bid!
Ada laughed only a little awkwardly, all-too aware of the roiling tension that’d bloomed after the Elite’s words. Of course, this wasn’t the first time she’d had to defuse a situation, nor would it be the last.
"Now, dear, you know that’s not how auctions works." She put a hand on his shoulder, lightly, barely a brush on fingertips, but it was meant to show there was no harm. "Threatening the other bidders only gets you thrown out." She glanced around, feeling the continuing tension before adding lightly, "Besides, that seems a little steep for half a millicycle of my time. Really, I’m sure I’m not that interesting.”
