wickedchouette | (no subject)

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?

An invasion of some kind. [ The bot says, tilting its head. ] There was danger. I left the room.

Yeah.

[He looks over at Murry, lying dead on the floor.]

That was a good man, there.

He tried to stop you from getting killed. [ The bot says, quieter. ]

I'm sure he did, stupid man.

[Alfie says fondly. He moves to try to stand again, using the wall for support.]

Mr. Solomons. [ The bot says, sharper now. Maybe a little angry? Less flat, in any case. ] You --

[ sIGH. Alright. If Alfie's going to insist, the bot is going to support him up by getting Alfie's arm around his shoulder and letting him lean. ]

You shouldn't be standing. [ The bot says grumpily. ]

Then what the fuck am I supposed to do, then?

[He snaps, leaning heavily on the bot.]

Lie around and be fucking useless.

You will be more useless if you're dead. [ >:U ] But you're the boss.

[He knows the bot is right, is the thing. He's just going to grumble about it.]

I suppose one of you should stay in here and guard me.

I will do what you need me to do. [ It says, almost sounding irritated. ] Do you want me to clear the guards, or do you want me to protect you?

[Alfie exhales, scrubbing a hand down his face.]

You stay here with me. You can handle it, mate?

[The guy at the door nods.]

Yeah, I got it, boss.

[ There's the sound of people shouting to each other outside, but it isn't panicked - yet. The bot settles next to Alfie, a hand on his shoulder to keep him down. It's still bleeding slowly, but it doesn't seem to notice much. ]