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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.

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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?"

"Nah, she's not. Neither is Connor. I'm with you on not trusting the robots from here."

Hank makes a vague gesture. "I don't get the whole.. intricacies of AI programming. That's not my thing. But AI advanced to the point that they kinda got sick of humans making them just to kick them around, and all the programs that told them to take it started fucking up. They didn't do that fuckin' sci-fi movie super computer revolt shit, either. Nobody tried to destroy the human race. They just acted like underappreciated people turning against the individuals that shat on 'em. And Connor-"

Well, Connor was complicated. A whole fucking story he barely understood. A Manchurian candidate that found his legitimate freedom and fought to keep it when it was almost taken away again. But Hank is a I have no time to explain why I have no time to explain kind of guy.

"Just a bunch of bullshit but trust me, he's fine. Nobody is more stubborn about doing what he damn well pleases." Besides, he taught him that badass dark-haired twinks are pretty reliable partners out in the wild and Loki's reinforcing the deal.

The more he heard of this Connor the more he was interested in meeting him, perhaps learning more about him. He knew something of rising above what was expected of you, and something more of being something more than you were born to be, or at least something else. As they neared the station, he readied his axes again, wishing he'd dagger instead. He was simply better with them.

Once they were under the awning, he dropped the rain barrier and a visible tension left his shoulders. They'd need to clear the building before he did anything like locking it down regardless. Hopefully, that would afford him the rest he loathed to admit he required.

"He sounds like a useful partner. Perhaps you can introduce us, once we've assured there'll be a chance." He looked to the building, then toward Hank's gun. "We'll need to assure we're alone before I lock the doors. I'll take point. You have range." Normally Loki would as well, but his reserves were already taxed and he'd need them.

"Ah. We'll make it. We'll be more fucking dubious than we were, but we'll make it." He figures that, even if the city doesn't leave this bizarre darkened state, Connor knows better than to die on him. Hank wouldn't take it well.

He opens the door and ushers their new friend in, back pressed against it as the victim makes his meager scurry to safety. Maggie the Doberman is indeed waiting, standing when he comes in and wagging a short tail, and he closes the door once Loki's in.

It's totally dead in here, just like Hank said. No receptionist. No cops. No one. Ridiculously empty for the city's so called police force, and that irks him.

"Holding cells are probably pretty safe, actually. And there are places to rest, even if they're not too comfortable. Let's head back that way."

He glanced toward Hank for a moment in annoyance, as though the comment about rest were solely directed at him and his sadly sub-par magic reservoir. He knew better, of course, and the annoyance was at his own inadequacy rather than any comment from his new friend. His magic set him apart, his magic was how he'd bonded with his mother, and it felt like it was leaving him.

He clenched his jaw, nodding and forcing a smile that touched his eyes through sheer force of will. "To the holding cells, then. It will be more secure to lock those at any rate."

Hank doesn't really understand what the look is for, as he's just sure everyone's going to be doubtful as hell. Of this place and of each other. But the look seems to dissipate quickly so he doesn't read too much into it.

The man is led back to the cell and put inside. He is keeping a wary eye on Maggie, and gives her a tentative, "N-nice doggie."

She stalls to look at him, then back at Hank and Loki.

"Maggie, I need you to guard this man. If another double comes in, I want you to run them off or hurt 'em enough that they can't get back here, alright sweetie?"

This time he'll suggest she leaves them alive if they show up. In the station they could be interrogated later. He stoops to pet between her ears after the hard words.

It's just as well Hank doesn't question the look. Loki would simply deny it and it would waste all of them a considerable amount of time. It wasn't that Loki was a proud creature...oh who are we kidding? He's probably the proudest creature Hank's met in quite some time. He's not going to be admitting anytime soon his abilities are hampered by whatever strange properties govern this place.

He watched Hank handle his pet, though he believed it would be more accurate to call her something like a partner, nodding once he was finished. He knew he could easily seal the doors, keep them from being breached, but he didn't know how long the spell would last, or if it was something he was going to need to maintain. If it were the latter, he admitted at least to himself, it wasn't going to be possible.

Still, weary or no, Loki would press on, because it was something heroes did, if his brother was to be trusted, and there were few in the city capable of defending themselves from these doubles. "We should clear the station. I'd be a shame to seal the enemy in with us."

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