DETROIT BECOME HUMAN OPEN RP POST

[undeviated]

Pick your poison:
Markus | Connor

( Josh | Gavin Reed )

I'd probably play other DBH characters anyway lbr so if you want someone else, just ask

Connor default is Machine Connor— but I can throw down a nice Connor if that's more your jam, just let me know what your preferences are if you have them

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[diplomats]

He knows the path she aims to take; interfaced knowledge gives them an advantage over humanity's inability to think on similar wavelengths without networked direction in the form of radioed commands or AI assistance. He knows where he needs to go and when, and that if he can't— if the damage done to his own system slows him, if a flashlight suddenly turns too close— that she'll cover for him. And she does. Each and every time, without fail, it's her hands clasped over his wrists, struck high against his shoulders. He doesn't waste precious time belittling her judgment by preconstructing their surroundings, he trusts her ability enough not to.

In the end, it's only luck that isn't on her side.

Markus can see it before it happens: the path the bullet will take once it strikes metal— and it's a sickening kind of terror that exists in deadlocked nanoseconds, where he maps out how far his fingertips can stretch. Replays it, tries again, and—

Concedes in bitter anger, knowing he's too far behind. Watching as time catches up and overlaps with what he's already seen. She darts for cover, and Markus times his strides so that they're slower, dividing the attention of their pursuers as he kicks out a supporting mass of scrap and rubber, causing one of the heaps of refuse to begin spilling out into those narrow pathways. Filling in the gaps.

Markus finds her then, already moving to shadow her body with his own, teeth sharp and bared as he stills unecessary subroutines.

[againsthedyinglight]

The clatter and screeching of metal hitting metal, twisting underneath its weight filled the air. North glanced back once she reached the cove, looking for Markus, as thirium stained the remaining sleeve she had. It was superficial damage to an android, something she doesn't even pay attention to; locating Markus was too important.

And then there he was, appearing from the upended trash in the paths to join her. North grabbed his shoulders and pulled him close, wedging the two of them deeper into the cove. Watching over his shoulder out at the sweeping flashlights and overhead illumination from the drone, North ceased her breathing function and held up her hand for the gun Markus was supposed to have. She was the one in the better position to use it if the humans discovered their location.

[diplomats]

Her hand, open-palmed and slender, works itself into the space between them. It's the first time she's reached for him— not grabbing, not wresting or fisting her fingers in his shirt to drag him forcefully from harm— in what feels like an eternity, considering the span of the last few days. Of weeks. Of months spent clawing for a foothold in the eyes of humanity. And injured, dripping thirium in inconstant patterns (her shoulder, his chest), Markus doesn't measure out the full weight of that gesture before he responds.

He fits his broad palm over hers, grip tight and earnest, stare fixed and unwavering for how open he aims to be when he recipricates her unexpected need for closeness.

[againsthedyinglight]

Her eyes rocket from their focus over his shoulder at their pursuit to Markus at that hand being placed in hers. For one very long moment, she simply stared at him, wondering why he was giving her his hand instead of the gun. This was not the place for this kind of thing, with humans soon to be crawling down their throats, and if it wouldn't have made a racket, North would have jerked her hand from his right then and there. Such contact with her, with the emotion behind it, was a precarious thing that needed to be done in a safe space. This was far, far from appropriate.

And then the conclusion that Markus must have thrown away the gun was reached and her annoyance flashed hard and fast. They needed that gun; she'd given hers to the androids fleeing underground. And here they were, hiding from humans that were intent upon hunting them down, without a weapon. Markus claimed they didn't need them, but North took solace in how poetic it was to kill humans with their own weapons - the things that made them think they were superior to androids, that they had the power over others.

Not a sound was made, but there would be no mistaking what the problem was with this situation. Especially with the officers on foot getting closer and closer. North's free hand shifted over to grab onto something metal in the stack their cove was hidden in. Clutching it harder and harder, eyes on Markus while her auditory sensors tracked the humans, plastic cracked under the force of a metal skeleton gripping hard. Cutting herself off from their thin network, North calculated the probability that the humans would pass right by them without notice. The odds were terrible, but a plan was formed.

Markus would get to the sewers. Herself... that was less certain. But it didn't matter, so when the humans rounded the corner and a flashlight passed over them then riveted back, North shoved Markus forward with her body and to the side with that hand he had a hold of while the other hand ripped out the metal scrap she'd been holding onto so tight that thirium seeped from the cracks she'd caused in her hand.

With a large screeching sound, the tower of metal began to fall. Shouts from the humans rose, a shot was fired, and North shoved Markus as hard as she could so he'd make it past where the tower of scrap would fall.

"Go! I'll catch up!" Words yelled as she lost sight of him, her path to the sinkhole blocked, but not his. Whirling about, her eyes focused on the human officer that had missed her, she bared her teeth.

"You better run," she told the human, the threat quite clear just before she charged. Run, Markus. RUN.