[CONTENT WARNING: MILD GORE [HARM TO ONE EYE, AN ARM BEING PULLED OFF], MILD BLOOD [ROBOT BLOOD THOUGH]]
“CLARA, NO!”
Nigel crumples to the floor, landing face-down after the face-first impact with a wall. His accents flicker and dim into black. That claw-- it threw Nigel hard enough to leave a dent in the panels, some of them even showing cracks and signs of damage.
So… if that’s what happened to just the wall…
...what about him?
And who the hell is Clara?
Time seems to have slowed down during those moments, at least, for 18-- so much adrenaline. So much happening. She finds herself shoved to the floor, bearing witness to Nigel hitting the wall with a sickening crack.
18 freezes up, seeing the orange android on the ground. Her pulse is loud in her ears, and she’s unable to process what just happened. Who the hell is Clara, and why did he…
The shock slowly turns into anger. She pushes herself off the ground, grunting at dull pain in various parts of her body. First thing's first-- get Nigel, then get out. Not the best plan, but... Virgil, or, whatever he is, now, is in control of the entire facility… and absolutely pissed at her, specifically, for some reason.
“Virgil” snarls, the corruption in his programming now so overbearing it warps his voice, “There. Now you let go. Are you going to leave, yourself, or am I going to have to aim for an opening the next time I throw you across the room? Nigel can’t get in the way this time.” The claw that had made Nigel essentially a battering ram recoils back, like a snake about to strike.
“You bastard,” 18 hisses, her voice cold, harsh, and laced with enough venom to kill a rhino. She scrambles over to Nigel and grabs him, turning him over-- being up close to him like this is... oh boy. Glowing, orange ooze covers his face and some of his clothes, now getting in his hair after pooling on the floor. The source of the artificial, neon blood is the shattered remains of what was once his left eye and earpiece, cracks sourcing from there and spread outwards like a spider’s web. Shards of orange-tinted hard light remain scattered on the floor, from his visor being smashed, before flickering away, seemingly out of existence.
Nigel is completely motionless -- it’d be easy to mistake him for some kind of corpse, but he’s not so badly damaged that he can’t be turned back on, at least. He’ll need some help, some repairs, and fast. But… are there any other ways to fix him without Virgil’s help?
Another claw whips out, snapping at the duo, trying to grab one or both of them. It latches onto Nigel-- the upper right part of his torso, specifically, due to the awkward angle the claw is coming from. It begins to tug on him. Very hard.
18 tightens her grip on Nigel, her breath hitching. Oh, no, she is NOT going to lose. Not again. Her features form a snarl, sweat forming on her brow as she shoots a sharp glare at “Virgil”.
But.. it’s not good enough. She isn't going to win, she knows this. She’s already tired and worn. “...I need to think of something…”
Desperate and impulsive as ever, she decides to take a huge risk.
She grabs her paint gun and aims a glob of repulsion gel at the corrupted android’s face. The blue gel is a good choice for blinding someone, though-- adhesive and rubbery, likely hard to clean off surfaces, judging by occasional reprimands in the past about how expensive it is.
It lands, splattering all over his cherry red visor. “Virgil” recoils, taken off-guard for a moment-- an opening for the test subject.
Taking a deep breath, she gets up and adjusts her hold on Nigel, trying to yank him free from the claw. There’s some kind of popping noise, alongside tearing, but she chooses to ignore it. She’s pumped with enough adrenaline to give a horse a heart attack, and not anywhere near willing to give up just yet. “Let go of him, or... I’ll shoot you again! I’ll get your-- your port gummed up!”
“Mm. Go on, try that. I dare you.” The chassis-bound android taps a button on his earpiece, drawing the gel-coated visor away from his face.
The claw latched onto Nigel abruptly pulls back.
Pop.
18 feels sick to her stomach as Nigel’s arm gets ripped clean off, leaving frayed wires and torn cloth behind. More of that luminescent orange liquid comes pouring out, leaving the test subject panicked, reaching down for-- her apron. Her eyes lock onto the article of clothing lying several feet away on the floor. “...dammit.”
Can she pull this off?
Maybe.
Her chances of aiming right a second time are probably very, very slim.
She aims the gun, once again, at “Virgil’s” face, then quickly lunges for the--
The shot misses, and a claw clamps down around her torso. She squirms, unable to move much with her arms pinned to her sides, as she’s forced to be face-to-face with the corrupt android. To make sure she doesn’t escape, a few loose cords join the claw in holding her.
“You know what you are?”
18 half-heartedly chuckles, trying to laugh in the face of fear. It’s hard, and not really working out. “A wonderful human being and a delight to be around?”
“Nothing. You’re nothing.” The words being hissed, plus them coming out in the voice of a core who had previously been.. Relatively okay towards her, turns the test subject’s blood into ice. “You’re just a number on a piece of paper. No, not even that!”
For a moment, 18’s hardened expression breaks. He hit a soft spot, causing her to stop struggling for a moment. Only a moment. No. NO! He's messing with her head, trying to break her. She's not going to let that corrupt android have the satisfaction. The test subject wrinkles her nose and spits right in the corrupted android’s face, then tries slamming her head into the bridge of his nose with a battle cry.
“I'm made of metal and synthetics, dear, you're the only one that's going to be reeling from that.” “Virgil” sarcastically remarks, barely even flinching.
“Wanna know a thing about metal and synthetics?” He, or… whatever he is anymore... he’s right. Her head is killing her, that mistake is probably going to leave a nice cut or bruise on her head. “They suck. And guess what?”
“What?”
“Your mission is not to accept the mission.”
“Paradoxes don’t hurt m--m----” As if to spite the fact he had just said that, he freezes up, his accents flickering. The claw and cords release their vice grip on the test subject with a spasm.
With a yelp and a lot of stumbling, 18 lands on the panels. “Holy crap... that actually worked.” She’d have to pat herself on the back later. Right now, she needs to grab Nigel and book it. With the unknown amount of time given by the simple paradox, she has to make use of it, and quick. Dashing over to Nigel-- wait, where's the apron? She forgot to grab it! She dashes and snatches the “lucky” piece of clothing from the floor in one smooth motion on her way over to the android.
Grunting, she lugs the one-armed core up onto her back, like trying to give a corpse a piggyback ride. He keeps slipping from her grip-- no thanks to that glowy orange crap (What is it? Oily glow stick fluid?) getting on her hands. She needs to get him out of here, but… THERE! 18 spots a slim opening in the wall; some panels must have been moved by the way the trio had previously entered, or maybe they’ve been jolted by “Virgil” getting badly affected by the paradox. Hopefully, she can fit Nigel through it, ego and all.
The clock is ticking.
The test subject drags the android to the opening, beginning to wheeze from the rush and strain she’s been through in the past hour or two. She keeps looking over her shoulder at the spasming, murderous robot, as she shoves Nigel through to the other side.
Aaand he gets stuck.
“Gah… sorry, idiot.” She kicks him a few times, having to force him through the opening. Now, it’s her turn, going in feet first-- she glances back at Virgil and gives him the finger-- and swiftly slides through, cutting her arm on a panel on the way.
18 reaches back and pulls on one of the panels, trying to get her escape route closed off before the window of opportunity closes. It’ll likely be soon. Whether that paradox has just been causing Virgil to freak out for a long time, or time is just going slower thanks to a burst of adrenaline, it’s still been going on too long to afford making any more mistakes.
Thankfully, it isn’t too hard to wrench it just close enough to her to not seem like a suspiciously large gap; not big enough for a human and an android to slip through anymore.
“...nn….” Nigel groans and shifts a little, his accents dimly flickering. His shoulder is still losing a good amount of good old glowy android blood. That should probably get looked at.
“Oh, thank God, you're alive...ish.”
“...C...Cl…” He’s not currently able to really form words just yet. Probably almost delirious, if androids are capable of that, really.
The test subject slowly lowers him properly to the ground after dragging his metal butt who knows how long through a dimly lit catwalk. After sitting him up against the railing, only then does 18 realize she’s shaking. The glow stick blood is all over her hands and shirt, and Nigel is still losing more. Hopefully blood loss isn’t too fatal for androids, considering how much he’s losing...
“Don't talk, okay? I'm going to stop the bleeding, Tangerine. You... do hear me, right? Give me a sign that you can hear me.”
Nigel’s good eye flutters open, half-lidded and dim. He looks up at 18, softly murmuring some attempt at a confirmation that he can, in fact, hear her.
“Good enough for me.” Her voice is an octave higher than normal, raised by anxiety and stress. Oh, the damage is-- she glances away, audibly gulping-- the damage is hard to look at, but she has to stop him from losing any more ‘blood’. Obviously, he needs the glow stick juice to live, and she needs Nigel to get out of here.
“If there's any pain, then, sorry, my bad. I don't... exactly know what I'm doing...” She begins to twist the loose wires, tucking them into gaps so they don’t get caught on anything. Oddly, she actually kind of knows what she’s doing. The test subject figures out how to disconnect sensors, hopefully dampening whatever pain the poor core must be feeling. The leaking, though… she can’t just twist that away. She needs to clog it up, or stop it entirely.
“...I'm… I'm sorry, Nigel.”
“...hh… hhhhhey…” The android moves his arm, trying to lift it. He sounds tired, but almost intelligible.
“Don't. It's my fault-- ah--!” She hisses under her breath; she just shocked herself. Maybe she should take a step back for a moment.
The events of the past few moments slowly catch up to her as the adrenaline in her veins ebbs away, dying. Almost like Nigel nearly did... “I tried… I tried, and look at what happened. God...” She runs a gel and ‘blood’-covered hand through her hair. “Just… just hold still...”
“Hey, hey--” Nigel slowly raises his arm, resting his good hand on the test subject’s face. “...it’s… okay, C… Clll…” He’s shaky, but he’s alive.
“It's not! It is NOT okay! You were right! Look what I did--” 18 cuts herself off, registering the touch to her face. “What are you doing..?”
“...Cl...ara…”
“Who? Who is Clara? Gah-- no, I need to stop the bleeding, you're getting worse!”
“....I thought… I thought you were Clara.”
“...I'm… I’m nobody, remember?” 18 pulls away, looking around. How to clog the... Apron! Her apron! Duh, she grabbed it just to try and patch up his arm-- she quickly pulls it out and shoves it over the wound, wadding it up and making an attempt to tie a knot to secure it.
“There... okay! That should stop the bleeding… for now, at least. You're going to be fine. You BETTER be fine! Or… or... I'll do... something...”
