we’re ready to make you one of us.

[headandhand]

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.

Comments

[be_notorious]

"Robots?" He asks, stepping back away from the railing and looking down the stairs. "Nah, I don't have any friends here." No offense to anyone. They're just kinda people in a lab cage together.

As he shares the sentiment, though, and does actually pull his gun now.

The feet on the stairs go from walking to running. It's sprinting up now, tirelessly, and while that's not something Drifter is unfamiliar with (Guardians never slow down) it's definitely not something that belongs here.

"Guess we're gonna find out soon enough, sister." He rolls his hand, a subtle gesture making the coin disappear. It puts them in the dark, but leaves his hand free. His ghost better damn well not show its face. He told it not to.

[whosthemonsternow]

“Couldn’t exactly see It in the dark after I fucked it up, but what I could feel with my hands seemed like dead robot.” Metal and wires, and what could have freakishly accurately realistic fake skin but honestly her hands were pretty fucked up so comprehending textures was difficult. “Didn’t stick around to investigate more, not while it’s still dark and shit.”

She’ll probably go back later when she could see and was properly armed, but she wasn’t going to play sitting duck just to see what it was made out of. Once she was sure it was dead, and searched it for anything helpful, she fucked off.

But those thoughts are all cast aside when whoever or whatever starts fucking running. She’s not happy when what little dim light there was is snuffed out, or happy about being called sister in any fashion, that’s a whole can of worms- but she doesn’t bitch about it right now. She’s already positioned for a fight, just turning slightly to face the probable threat.

When she does talk, it’s in a quick, hushed, brief whisper to warn, “Buddy, I hope you can handle yourself, not looking to save anyone’s ass right now if I don’t have to.”

[be_notorious]

"Not a lotta people around here who can't." Handle themselves, that is. But he doesn't take his eyes off the stairs, he does squint into the dark, however, when what looks like his own face appears in the dull light.

"Oh what the hell!"

He can't make it out that well, and he can pull the gun plenty fast if he wanted to. But the thing lunges, and Drifter neatly grabs it and shoves it up against the wall, arm against its throat, that hand still holding his gun.

He raises his other hand, palm radiating sunny heat and light, and he scowls into what's obviously his own face. His own face, without any of the scarring and poorly designed eyes. The fuckin' things could be googly eyes, even. They're very much a special level of shitty quality.

"The hell kinda robot is this??"

[whosthemonsternow]

Well, be it her overconfidence that she's worlds more capable than probably everyone else here, or just her judgmental assumptions that most people here are children, she would not agree with that statement. At least as far as the native citizens who live here or whatever, she's positive most have been thoroughly fucked up with this shit tonight.

But she doesn't really have time for any snide or snippy comments, their guest is finally showing up to the party. And as any good hosts, they need to give the new arrival their full attention.

It takes her a hot second to really make out the face, but she's not entirely surprised to see it's the same as his own. She's about to start throwing punches, but he easily grapples the thing up against a wall. He seems to have it under control, and in less than a split second she decides her best move is to hang back slightly and watch for any others wanting to sneak up on them or shit. She keeps her gaze on the two though, in case he can't keep that control and needs a hand.

"I fucking told you! The bitch who came at me earlier looked almost entirely like me!" Same badly done features like this one has, but otherwise it was wearing her goddamn face.

"Kill it before it realizes you're made of squishy meat and breakable bones instead of metal and wires like it is." She growls out, scrunching her nose up and glaring at the thing.

Sure, part of her considers if they could somehow squeeze any information out of it first. But her murderbot self didn't seem capable of speech, so, probably pointless to even try. Not that she tried to sit around and chitchat with it. Once it finished shambling towards her and attacked, she was more focused on putting it down in pieces than playing the 20 questions game.

CW: Describing some painful cyborg burning and violence

[be_notorious]

"No! I need him to die!" It protests. It's not silent like hers. It can talk. It sounds eerily like him, even if the face is incomplete.

Drifter squints at it, and he was going to recommend interrogating it, but as if it took a cue from what South said and punches him in the side, accompanied by the crunch of a well-punished rib. Winded, and now angry, the Lightbearer snarls and puts his glowing hand over its face.

"Anything's 'squishy' if you make it hot enough," he growls, all teeth and raw voice, winded from the hit to his ribs. And his hand flares, the things face glows, then it's whole head, and the meat of it ignites. He steps away from it so it can hobble around and flail uselessly. It's glitching out. It remembers what it's supposed to do, but it's pretty well fried.

"Just need a moment," he says, shoving it away, where it's lost and struggling to touch the railing and the wall in search of them. Underneath his clothes bones are knitting back together. And bullets are valuable. He has to make the things himself. If it can be defeated by hand? He'd rather do it that way.

Re: CW: Describing some painful cyborg burning and violence

[whosthemonsternow]

Okay-! South's eyes widen slightly when it actually fucking speaks, unsure if it's ability to talk or what it said that's catching her the most off guard. Not that it matters either way, it's doing what she warned it would do and, well, that's a good solid situation to deal with. But it's in no way influenced by her words, it's not her fault- she only said the warning because the thing already had it planned! Zero her doing here.

"See!" She can't help letting out as she starts to jump in, but stops herself just short.

He seems to be handling it all well enough on his own for the moment despite the hit, so she takes a step back again and keeps an ear out for any more surprises.

She has about a million and two questions, watching the thing flounder around with a scrunched up expression. She of course can't see his body being repaired, figuring he's probably going to need his jacked up ribs addressed sooner than later but not while the thing is still standing.

"We should shove the bastard over the rail before it attracts more of them to us." If that's how it even works with these things or not, she doesn't have a clue, really.

It sounds solid enough to her, though. Get one noisy enemy bumbling around your location, it can easily become a beacon for more. Fuck knows what the other one will be able to do. Her's didn't do much verbally other than a metal-on-metal sort of growl, this one not only said words but made a sentence. Should probably be a pretty alarming sentence at that, but it doesn't look like it's need for him to die would be met, anyways. Still, for all she knows, the next of them that comes along could easily be even more capable and have a real chance of achieving it's goal. She'd rather not find out.