wickedchouette | (no subject)

Can you?

[He asks, surprised - though maybe he shouldn't be, after the way the bot had knocked out those men.]

All right. Go to it, then.

[ It turns and heads for the door - and then completely kicks the door off its hinges. It's kind of loud. The bot pauses, and then glances back over its shoulder. ]

What are you going to do about Mr. Solomons?

Hide him away, I suppose.

[He sounds doubtful when he says it, though. Alfie would understand the reason for it, but he'd still hate the idea of spending any sort of invasion or battle tucked away safely like a child.]

Edited 2019-05-29 16:18 (UTC)

[ It makes its way over, frowning, and crouches down to look over Alfie's wounds. If it can treat them, it'll start to. ]

I can carry him, but I can't be in front of you when we leave if that's the case. [ Meat shields aren't as effective when you're carrying someone. ]

[He raises an eyebrow.]

And if we carry him and come across more of those men?

[ A pause. ]

You are a gangster. I would assume you can reasonably defend yourself, right? Or did you intend on making the household cleaning droid come up with a plan to escape down to the minute detail?

Fuck off. I'm suggesting we hide him; you're the one saying we should haul him around like a fucking sack of potatoes.

[He snorts, moving over to Alfie and bending, getting his arm around his shoulders. Alfie groans, but doesn't wake.]

You're right, you are just a cleaning droid; I can't expect you to be able to think.

[Problem is, the room is pretty empty, and devoid of hiding spots. There isn't even a closet.]

[ Oh. It sort of brought that upon itself, but - no, he's right. It can't think for itself. It's fine. It just needs to follow directions, like it's meant to.

Still. There's a twinge of that same something in its chest. ]

What do you require of me? [ It asks, voice a little more flat this time as it watches the man start to move Alfie. ]

We'll take him into the basement. The door's just nearby.

[He hesitates.]

I'll carry him. You do the fighting if we come across anyone.

Yes, sir. [ You do the fighting. It doesn't having any fighting protocols installed, and it isn't sure it'll be allowed to use a gun, but. It'll just have to figure it out.

It glances at the man, and nods. Lead the way, because there are footsteps coming to investigate the sound.]

[Oh, fuck. The guy immediately ducks back into the room, setting Alfie down on the ground again. Sorry boss, but if there are people on the way, he doesn't want to be holding you when they come.]

[ The bot gives him a WTF look. ]

What are you doing? You told me to defend.

If we got ambushed, yeah--

[He comes back to the bot's side, pulling out his gun.]

But we hear them coming, and we can prepare for it. We'll both defend.

[ It's... surprised, for sure. It isn't expecting any sort of help. Even expected, maybe, that the man would grab Alfie and run, leaving the bot behind. It stares for a moment, and then: ]

I do not have a weapon.

Didn't need one in there, did you?

[The man snorts, squaring his shoulders and facing the direction the footsteps are coming from.]

No. That was a different situation. They weren't expecting me.

[ But they are now, and it is... afraid? Maybe it's a little afraid. ]

Well, I've only got the one gun. You'll do all right.

[His tone is dismissive. Robots don't have feelings, do they? Not really.]

[ Not really. It shouldn't. It's fists clench, and it stands in front of Alfie as two guards burst their way into the room, holding guns. Quietly, it apologizes to the kitten curled up back in Alfie's kitchen. It hopes Alfie will take care of her.

It's scared. It really is. It knows it can't harm humans and yet here it is, standing defiant. One of the guards shouts for Alfie's man to drop his weapon, and the bot tenses, ready to spring. ]

[The guy fires off a shot the moment they burst into the room, getting one guard down. He fires his second shot just as the second guard is yelling - hoping that the bullet will hit before he can fire his own weapon.]

[ The second guard yells, and shoots - and the bot watches like it's in slow motion. It's going to hit Alfie, the ricochet of the wayward bullet, and it won't let that happen. The bot sidesteps right into the shot, taking it in the gut and stumbling back a few steps.

That's just enough time for the shot from Alfie's guy to hit the guard. Two guards down.

The bot straightens, with a wince, and ignores the blue-blood wound. ]

[And Alfie, lying flat on the ground, groans and woozily opens his eyes.]

Wassat...?

[His man is too preoccupied with kicking the bodies out of the way to notice.]

[ The bot turns, and kneels down next to Alfie, looking him over. ]

Don't move too fast. [ It says, firmly. Don't mind the blood leaking from its gut, it's totally fine. ] You likely have a concussion, Mr. Solomons.

I don't have a concussion.

[Grumbles Alfie, who almost certainly has a concussion. He sits up woozily, patting his pockets for his gun. It's not on him, of course.]

You were knocked out with a gun. You likely have a concussion. [ Dummy. The bot pushes Alfie back down to rest. ] You're safe.

Murry's dead.

[Says the other man, who's peering back out into the hall. Alfie frowns.]

What the fuck's happened in my fucking warehouse?