dualislogs | we’re ready to make you one of us.

Entry tags:

we’re ready to make you one of us.

WHO: Open to all Dualizens
WHAT: When Roboclones Attack
WHERE: Anywhere in the city!
WHEN: The night of Oct. 19
WARNINGS: Please use these if applicable! And if you happen to end up dead by roboclone, please fill out the death form!

It’s an ordinary night in Dualis, until it suddenly becomes a very dark and stormy night in Dualis. There hasn’t been a single day of unpleasant weather since any of you arrived, but soon after the sun begins to sink behind the city’s skyscrapers and the neon lights intensify for the night, storm clouds begin to gather overhead and unleash a cacophony of thunder, a deluge of rain, and brilliant spikes of lightning arcing across the sky.

It’s a violent storm, to be sure, but surely severe weather is no challenge in such a technologically advanced city as Dualis, right? As long as you stay indoors, you can keep safe and dry until the storm passes.

Except … less than an hour after the storm begins, the power all across the city goes completely out. All buildings are dark except for the illumination cast by lightning across brick and steel and glass. All electronics - including phones - are dead, all biometric locks are disabled, and no attempts to call, text, or reach the internet or the network succeed. Eerily, the streets are silent and empty.

Under normal circumstances, such a widespread blackout would merely be odd and inconvenient, but tonight, circumstances are anything but normal. About half an hour after the blackout begins, something approaches you, wherever you are. In the dark, you’ll be able to make out that its shape is humanoid, but maybe its motions are jerky and mechanical. As it draws closer and you get a better look, by candlelight or flashlight or flash of lightning, you recognize the face staring back at you.

That face is your own.

The face, like the rest of the body, is likely some degree of incomplete, an incongruous jigsaw of metal and flesh, but it’s definitely yours. And this machine doppelganger’s mission is soon made apparent as it launches a targeted attack on you:

It’s here to kill you.

After nearly four hours, the storm subsides and the power is restored and the city falls back into its normal rhythm. Will you survive until then?

May the odds be ever in your favor, friends.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

At the onset of the storm, Loki's first inclination was...hopeful? He'd never admit it to anyone, but he missed the man who brought the thunder with him, and the storms. Having seen no sorry weather since arriving here, to have such a thing happen so suddenly, well...he'd been foolish to think it could have been him. The attack had come swiftly, as he'd tried to navigate the darkened city by memory and conjured floating light, and the shock had been too much.

He'd ran. He wasn't proud of it, and if anyone asked he'd never admit it, but he'd ran from that thing that had been him if his father's glamor were stripped away. He'd cloaked himself in illusionary invisibility and had ran. The shifting city had foiled him, though, and he found himself in this familiar place. The darkness was closing in, and doors and windows were more easy to protect than open ground.

He was on guard the moment he realized the door was already unlocked. He made his way in cautiously, soft-booted feet stepping lightly, hand raised to throw a bolt of raw telekinetic force at anything or anyone who dared to attack him.

...but it wasn't an enemy who came into his view and he smiled, dropping the illusionary cloak of invisibility as he did.

"Hank. It is really you, isn't it?"

(OOC: And if you want Hank to attack him because he startled him, you go right ahead, man)

"BAH!" Hank jerks back, hopping three times with all the grace and elegance of a panda that just heard its baby sneeze. He did reach for his gun, but like any good cop that's learned there will be hell to pay for shooting at a bad time he just manages to not draw it. But he straightens up. Right. Invisible. Loki, god of mischief and apocalypses and big world eating snakes or something. Cool. Got it.

No judgment would be had here. His hackles are most assuredly up. Loki might see it as cowardice but if he knew, Hank would certainly assure him that it's tactical. Pretty useful to go invisible right now.

"Yeah, it's me. You come across another you yet?"

And he's on his way over to grab a couple of axes. Ain't that appropriate narrative; he bothered to learn how to toss this shit and now he's gotta actually go fight with them.

"The police department is fucking empty." Which is really, really wierd."

Even in such dire circumstances, it's difficult for Loki not to be amused by Hank's reaction. In fact, it's comforting to have something to laugh at in the face of this madness. So many questions whirled around his mind with no answers readily available, but a little amusement at hank's expense? He'd take it, though his expression darkened almost immediately at the man's question and his jaw clenched for a second before he forced a jovial grin in its place.

"I did. A sad imitation, really. I assume you have as well?" Though hearing about the police department was...troubling. "I take it they didn't all leave on holiday."

He can't even be mad, he's so glad to see someone out who's not fuckin' screaming for their life. Even if they're scrambling in an invisible state; fuck, if he could do it? He'd do it.

"Getting the feeling they weren't done in the oven," he remarks dryly. Even his clone was a poor imitation, and he's very worried that won't be their first try. "That might not be the last model."

Hank's somewhere between a shitty optimist and a proactive cynic.

"And no, there's no fucking reason for the police department to be empty. Or for the bar to be empty or for all the quiet. It's freakin' me out a little bit."

There'd been no scrambling. Loki would die on that hill of denial, but thankfully Hank's assessment of the situation in which Loki had discovered him had remained unspoken in lieu of more important topics of conversation. It would be a lie to say Loki didn't find the state of affairs disconcerting, but it also answered a few of the more obtuse questions. Why there were here was clearly not what they'd been told. Now they simply had to survive long enough to show their captors the folly in their plan.

"True, but it is good to know the oven exists." He frowns at the news regarding their supposed protectors and nods, finding his own ax. It's not his dagger, but it'll do in a pinch. He can certainly cleave a skull, mechanical or otherwise if he needs to. "That is...disquieting. When did you last see your other?"

Well, fair point, as Hank couldn't see scrambling or strolling or scuttling or otherwise. Invisibility tends to foil even the usually observant.

"Yeah, and I doubt we'll figure that much out tonight." Thane's sure going to love the depletion of axes he's going to find in the morning, Hank is sure. But they need them right now.

"I don't think it was just people in our building but it's not everywhere. So I gotta get out there and figure out who the fuck can't stand up to their evil twin." They're not tough enough to fight gods or take down seasoned cops. They are, however, strong enough to take down little old ladies or inept shut ins.

He gave the ax he'd retrieved a test swing, surprised as the balance of it, while he nodded along with Hank's train of thought. "No. Tonight, we survive." He clenched his jaw, before finding a second ax. While his magic was his most powerful asset, the flight from the dormitories here had proven taxing beyond what it should have been. So, the journey here had weakened his magic as well. He would simply have to rely on more mundane means of protection.

"Very well." He the more who survived this massacre, the quicker they'd get answers. "If your precinct is empty, I take it you need a helping hand."

"I'll take it. And to be honest, it goes with the plan."

He steps back out onto the sidewalk again, ignoring the rain. He couldn't even grab a poncho, but it's not as if being waterlogged's ever been that much of an issue to him.

"I want to argue to the police department that the iterations aren't as reliable as real people. That people can show some judgment, eventually strip some of the power out of their hands. If there is a fucking police department tomorrow.

"Plus, it'd be an honor to fight beside a Norse God." Which, even if it's a joke, it's true. And honestly? Pretty fuckin' amazing. He salutes him with the sentiment.

"Rather difficult to get to the bottom of doppelgangers when we're dead, yes." Loki's leathers, what he'd arrived in, did a good job of keeping away the rain, though he'd left the cape behind and he was glad for that. He didn't mind the weather, though the rain quickly pasted his black curls to his head and neck. There were more important things to concern himself with at the moment.

"These mechanizations are 'interations' then?" He nodded, smiling, a somehow excited gesture. Loki might have been adopted, but he was raised in a society that valued martial prowess, and as much as he'd trained in the use of magic, he was also skilled in combat and ready for it. "The honor is mine. I made my way here from the dormitories, though it wouldn't do to retrace ground. Which direction were you headed? Our others don't seem too tactically minded from my experience."

"I saw some lights that way." Hank loosely gestures off where he'd seen some flashlight beams. Thing is, it's so dark out that any light source is more eye-catching than usual.

"Just remember to make sure they're a double before doing anything. It's hard to judge in a fuckin' city full of cyborg mods sometimes." He wipes the rain away from his nose and starts off that way.

"Mine had something wrong with it when when I got a better look. Did yours? Messed up skin? Metal showing where it shouldn't?"

"Yes." Loki may have been a god of Chaos and Destruction, but he didn't enjoy the wanton slaughter of innocents. The memory of his replica still bothered him, and not only because it was disturbing, but out of anger. How dare they attempt to imitate him?

"They appear incomplete." Which suggested some sort of malfunction...somewhere. "Do you think the storm may have caused a blackout, and resulted in sort of systems failure?"

"That's a pretty good theory. Sounds very likely." Best he's heard so far. And he knew they had choppy memories, but maybe it was a case where they were all made badly as well.

Hank's memories weren't complete, but it's good to know they were significantly physically incomplete too.

They seemed equal parts undone. Maybe that means they started building them at the same time; Hank's been here longer than Loki. "How off was it? Mine had those choppy fucking memories and underneath his coat he had some robot parts. Wonderin' if this was all recent or if we ended up in the mold from the start."

He speaks as he walks that way, occasionally putting up his flashlight to see ahead. The rain makes it a pain in the ass.

"Rather off, and not only incomplete." He shook his head though, unable to make of an assessment. "First of all, he's blue." Which was a trick of the All-Father's magic on him as an infant, something strong enough even to stay beyond his death. The rain really did make it difficult to see anything, light or no. His experimentation with his magics had proven using any of them was more taxing that usual, as though he was reach across some great distance to conjure them. Still, if they could see...

He slid one of his borrowed axes into his belt and raise a hand, clenching it into a fist. The telekinetic spell pulled the air into a dome around them and about 6 feet on all sides. He could risk a larger dome, and even this one was a sad excuse for a barrier. It would keep the rain out and their vision clear, but it wouldn't afford them much of a warning should anyone, or thing, attack and it wouldn't stop a hurled knife let alone a bullet. He could risk using more energy, though. He always tired.

"There we are. He also never spoke." Thankfully.

"I've seen blue guys around. Maybe they had a mix-up." He doesn't automatically consider that maybe Loki was originally blue. What he does know, though, is Loki isn't blue now, and the imitation failed hard.

"Mine looked mostly like me. He remembered some stuff on and off. Had a few gaps. His chest wasn't fully covered in skin- he had it under a shirt when he first showed up so for a bit he looked just like me. Got a better look afterward and his hands weren't quite right, either." Too strangely smooth. "And it didn't seem too interested in talking and more in killing?"

Just looking for some verification there.

He pauses at the sudden bubble around them, and, well, it makes their lives a lot easier. Hank keeps his vision trained ahead, hearing some guy shouting in a stuttering voice. Either scared shitless or with some messed up speach patterns, hard to tell which yet.

"No. That much is both accurate and inaccurate." He nodded at the assessment of motive. "If we assume this obviously premature release, if the lack of completion is noted, was caused by the power surge, and consider they apparently mean to kill us all, I would move that the Head has lied to us all, something I'd already assumed."

He chuckles. "It doesn't mean to cure some horrible illness. It means to replace us all with robots. Why has little bearing on the situation." He looks forward if the direction of the shouting. He takes up the axes again, wielding one in each hand, and the barrier held. Good. They weren't his twin daggers, but he'd trained in martial combat along with his magical skills for nearly a thousand years. He could adapt. "Peace. We mean you no harm." He called to the shouting man, before a slight smile spread across his face. "Unless, of course, you're a malfunctioning robot. Then we mean you a great deal of harm."

It's the most reasonable of conclusions. Hank's had it as well. Why would something that could bring people back from the dead need them to cure a disease rather than just bring everyone back after that disease had passed. He agrees; maybe he wants to regrow them. God there are so many fucked up choices they might have just been dragged into.

"I really wish we could talk these things down. I feel like it'd be a lot easier to get answers," he says after Loki calls out.

A man runs out of a building near them, following the sound of Loki's call. Thick framed glasses, cringing expression, a scene right out of an 80s comedy with his sporadic, untrained need to just get out. He fumbles his oversized flashlight as he goes. He wipes the rain off coke-bottle lenses and stammers a- "It's- It's a- back th-th-th" And he's trying to motion behind him with ungainly, light-flinging motions as the "second" him appears, holding a brick in his hand and practically tripping its way out the door. It has no eyes behind its glasses (still seems able to 'see' where it's going, though).

Hank raises his gun and aims it at the advancing double, putting himself between the guy and his would-be assailant. "Hey Brick Nerdhouse! Freeze!"

Until this very moment, Loki had only been on the receiving end of the force behind Earth law enforcement, the opportunity given to halt, to surrender rather than be taken down by force. Was it a requirement of the job? Did that mean that law enforcement here was something like Earth law enforcement? The stuttering human took shelter behind Hank, not Loki and he took note of that as well. Law enforcement, and the institutions thereof, made this man feel safe, not just any man with a weapon, but specifically one speaking in a manner to which he was accustomed, shouting platitudes at a malfunctioning robot with naught but wanton carnage on its mind.

The proceeding durranged robot was unphased by Hank's order, of course, save for redirecting its course. It swung its eyeless head around to face the two of them and Loki raised his weapons, his dual-wielding stance reminiscent of any old viking TV show Hank might have seen. His mother had always trained his sorcery, but as a Prince of Asgard, Loki had also trained extensively in martial combat. No one wanted a sorcerer for a king, after all. A devilish grin flickered across his face as the robot never slowed, and he knew enough about cops to ask, even if he didn't wait for a response, "it was warned, yes?"

Loki took aim, recoiled, and threw the hatchet, lobbing end over end, and made heavy, solid connection in the thing's mechanical chest, sputtering sparks there and piercing sheets of metal. Loki may not possess the strength of the Asgardians, but his Jotun physiology still gave him strength far greater than that of a human. The robot stumbled and slowed its progress but only briefly before moved again, this time hard-set on the both of them. He raised his freed hand and a shimmering wave of telekinetic force shoved the robot back several paces, but didn't it.

He grunted in annoyance. "Persistent bastards."

The uniform helps. Even the uniform of a fucking traffic cop, as long as the badge is visible. Hank can get the guy out of the way as Loki engages the robot.

"Fucker's been warned plenty." (Hank's language isn't always befitting of a public servant but fuck it). And these robots seem hell-set on demolishing the original model. Loki shoves the robot back with the telekinetic force and Hank aims, and plants a bullet through the frames of those glasses. His aim wasn't so great with an ax. In a pinch, his aim with a gun is much better.

That succeeds in making it stutter and fall, dropping its brick and slumping into a bewildering kneeling position.

"Persistant is certainly a word for it." He puts the gun away, looking at the robot. "Can't even call this shit in." He picks up the walky talky he'd acquired, though, dropping Connor a line. "Found another robot. Was attacking someone from outside our building. Over."

The simpering man, though, was also looking at Loki like he was a real hero. "Th-Thanks. I was thinking I was gonna d-d-d-die out there."

If they survive the night, he may end up looking into this for a number of reasons. Doing some sort of good was a small part of it, some sort of redemption in the face of all he'd caused, but also something else. Locals worked for this police force, and being a part of it might afford him some sort of access, or the ability to infiltrate at the very least.

He smiled, puffing up at the gratitude he was showered with after the human thanked him, inclining his head and moving his hair from his face. "Certainly. It was the least I could do, after all. We'll see to it you're safe." He looked to Hank. "You mentioned the precinct. Is it easily fortified?" He made a mental note to ask who he was communicating with later, but for now, a central location to herd the helpless seemed appropriate.

"We could set up a temporary shelter, until this is sorted."

Hank doesn't say anything about the smooth hero show Loki pulls there, he just sort of smiles off to the side 'cause it really makes sense that even a trickster god would enjoy being thanked. And that guy seems pretty appreciative. At the moment, unwilling to leave them.

"The doors aren't locking. None of the fucking doors are around here. Most of the city is set on a power grid with mechanical locks." Which means most buildings could probably be accessed if the power is cut, now that he thinks of that. "But if we had someone capable standing guard while we brought people in, it would work. Not a lot of exit and entry points."

He looks at the two-way radio.

"If we can find another one of these while we're out it'd make that easier. Then we could all stay in contact."

This Trickster god in particular enjoys recognition. For the moment, Loki was fine with their rescuee tagging along.

He smiles, though, looking over to Hank, still not really all that hampered by the rain. "There are more ways than electricity to lock a door, Hank. If there are few entries and exits, it's a worthwhile destination."

He glances down at the radio and nods. "And who are 'we all'?"

Edited 2019-10-29 09:12 (UTC)

"Fuckin' A. That's what I like to hear." And it's an excellent fix to the lock problem. The copies don't seem to be magic by any mile. "And my partner is out there, too. Coworker. Partner. Fuck it. Another cop, it's complicated." And he's mad at him. He hadn't taken Hank shooting himself well. He doesn't know what made him think it'd be easier on him than it was.

"I also have my dog at the station. She's a robot, too. But she's mine, and I told her to guard the place."

Hank gestures for him to follow, forgetting Loki can teleport, but it is slightly further than two blocks. Their friend is sort of toddling along behind them, yelping when he realizes that he wasn't being rained on a moment ago and when they got too far out of range, he was getting wet again.

"I'm happy to be of service." While the reason behind that motivation was complicated, Loki was as interested in getting closer to the true purpose of this place as he was in making a good impression to insulate any less than savory opinion others from his world may bring of him, he also saw the benefit of ensuring everyone around here survived the night. They were all victims here, himself included. They were, by some serendipitous fortune, a team.

It was just the same Hank had neglected to remember Loki's skills of teleportation and conjuration. He was finding his abilities to be particularly troublesome since arriving, likely related to whatever force brought them all here. They tired him here, and the shield clearing their vision was starting to make his shoulders ache and a dull haze form behind his eyes. "Given the nature of the attackers, do you feel it's wise to put such faith in a robot," he asked, falling into close step behind Hank? He glanced back over his shoulder with a smirk at their rescuee. "Do try to keep up. It's a cold rain."

Their new friend yelped a further apology but quickened his pace to reap the benefits of Loki's barrier.

"The dog already's proven she doesn't like 'em. I don't see any sign of that changing. And Connor's an android, too. He had programming before and broke it out of his sheer strength and skill at being a pain in the ass." Hank sounds remarkably proud of him for that, too. "The fuckin' Head would be making a hell of a mistake to try and use him. Last time that happened he fucked over the people that did."

Well, they were the people that made him but he's pretty sure they went out of business after that.

The police station becomes visible and is eerily quiet, like no police station should be during a time of unrest. At least there's a good span of overhang, meaning Loki won't have to keep up that barrier for too long.

"Yes, but is she a construct of this place?" It seemed an important distinction to Loki. A sentiment program could only revolt against its programming so far, and a dog, artificial or not, was only barely capable of self-awareness unless he was vastly misunderstanding Hank's meaning of 'dog.'

And the situation with this 'Connor' seemed even more ambiguous. "He had programming before but broke free? How is that?" And at what cost, he thought but spared the question from his voice. In his experience, such rebellions were normally pricey. Of course, if the truth were told, he had only moderate knowledge of artificial intelligence. It wasn't a technology particularly commonplace in Asgard.

He was pleased and relieved in equal measure at the sight of the station, quiet as it was, but he didn't allow himself to relax yet. Anything could happen. "You mentioned before the station was abandoned. Were there any signs of struggle?"

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