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please follow @mxcreed​ instead!

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please follow @mxcreed​ instead!

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please follow @mxcreed​ instead!

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     // this blog is WAY more broken than i initially thought. i’m 1000% remaking it. will update on that in a second.

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     // hello everyone! or anyone, really, that’s still here! 

     i’m thinking about getting back into mccree some day. logged in here to try to clean stuff up and fix things but uhh it looks like i’m running into a lot of weird glitches that usualyl comes up on a tumblr blog once it passes around 3+ years old so i think that, if i can’t find a work around and if i make the final decision on bringing mccree back i’m PROBABLY remaking this blog fresh to avoid those glitches, get clean tags and just have a nice clean fresh start!

     i hope the ow rpc has been well, love you guys!

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nichtschaden‌:

Synthetic hands straightened the military jacket over angular shoulders, and its LED elements glowed in the dim light of the android’s borrowed room. 

      “Athena, what is Lt. McCree’s location?”

      “Lt. McCree is in Training Square B. Would you like me to tell him you’re on your way?”

      “Negative.”

If he was training, an announced arrival would only invite more irritation than the lieutenant already harbored for the RK500.

The halls of Blackwatch headquarters were barren at this hour, although more than a few of the personnel did a double-take at the towering android. Unless he happened to run into Commander Reyes, he wouldn’t stop for anyone unless confronted. Even the extensive soundproofing of the training square could not quite conceal the roar of Jesse’s revolver, and Fritz found himself in a bulletproof glass case the moment he entered. 

McCree was tearing through training bots, testing the limits of his updated prosthesis and his own aim. The reaction time was clearly improved, and it would also have a greater sensitivity to pressure. Adrenaline and heartbeat were both almost alarmingly high, yet his body language conveyed almost disappointment when the walls retracted. The protective case around Fritz also slid away, and the android waiting calmly for a greeting.

      “Do you have any idea how strange it is to hear you be nice to an artificial intelligence, lieutenant? Is being disembodied the key to your tolerance? I’m not sure I could live like that. So to speak.”

A hand skimmed over the opposite arm, as if to be certain it was still there. Sure, he could interface with machines, but to be everywhere and nowhere? Fritz couldn’t put words to the thoughts that conjured, and his LED flashed yellow in his silent distress. Perhaps a distraction would delete that from memory.

The RK500 crossed the training space to the far wall with the weapon lockers, and his hands lifted a pair of pistols. Not pulse rounds, but bullets. Old school, as one of his programmers would say.

      “Grab your coffee break, lieutenant. Athena, repeat simulation in 30 seconds.”

      “The American Androids Act states androids are strictly forbidden from carrying or using any type of weapon.”

      “Submit authorization code 313 248 317 - 51.”

      “… Authorization code accepted. Beginning simulation in 30 seconds.”

The same weighted vest and ankle straps were applied, although Fritz carried both pistols instead of the revolver. The protective bulletproof case locked around Jesse, and his eyes slid shut as the walls shifted into place and the training bots were summoned. A ping sounded, and the game was on.

Like his RK800 counterpart in Detroit, Fritz could preconstruct situations. Half a second passed before he was on the move like lightning, hunting the bots one by one with bullets that pierced their most critical components. Time did not matter to him as much as efficiency, and when Athena announced completion in two minutes, forty-nine seconds, his magazines were missing exactly one bullet for every bot encountered. 

The pistols and weights were set aside as the bulletproof case slid away, and Fritz straightened his jacket as if nothing had happened.

      “We should report to Commander Reyes soon. Hopefully, he has an assignment for us.”

     Jesse looks taken aback for a moment by the android’s remark, thick brows up before scrunching back down to his usual squint. “Oh, jealous much? S’all right, you’re not really alive alive, right? Don’t have to live like that, just tolerate.” He shrugs, a stupid grin on his face as he walks backwards away from the android, knowing exactly what he was doing. “’sides, Athena, I known since I was like, what, 17? You, I known a day, it ain’t personal.”

     He’s not entirely sure how to feel seeing the android opt to take the same training course, and as he fetches a few protein bars and hazelnut coffee, he keeps a close eye on the simulation. Was that in his program? To ask to complete this task? Was he supposed to do that? He actually glances around at some point, as if searching for an audience about as stunned as he is to quietly gesture to them, but still finds himself, well, by himself.

     It’s finished about as quick as it began, and he sips at his coffee as the android decides it’s actually time to work. He examines Fritz’s frame, and his hands, then looks back to the training block, pondering. If it came to it... perhaps he could outshoot him. “Tryna outdo me, huh?”

     He resists the urge to toss him a protein bar, forgetting himself for a second. It looks too human -- Athena doesn’t, and perhaps that was a source of comfort. He was skeptical around omnics already, but at least their round, metallic heads with little to no face are strikingly friendly, save for Null Sector and co. But this just keeps confusing him.

     “I reckon Reyes will,” He says, scooping his belongings together and putting away equipment that was left out. He stops a moment, drumming his fingers as he chooses his words. “A little odd of you though, to go through the effort of completin’ this whole thing yourself. Isn’t your priority like, Reyes and all that first? Or did CyberLife say you gotta do a few reps to warm up before the day begins? Cause no offense, that’s weird.”

Become Human

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I just want a werewolf McCree skin is that too much to ask

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nichtschaden‌:

      “I at least need a computer terminal if I am going to play an effective role in this investigation. If that’s the only equipment I’m permitted, so be it.”

Fritz’s LED blinked as he was led into McCree’s private quarters, perhaps the lieutenant misunderstood his request. Like the car, his sensors indicated the smell of hazelnut and bourbon again.

      CONNECTING, SYNC IN PROGRESS, SYNC DONE, COLLECTING DATA, PROCESSING DATA…             WEAPON LOCKERS: Revolver, pulse rifle, shotgun. Revolver most frequently accessed             FOOD WRAPPERS: Lt. McCree eats alone more than in the cafeteria             CLOTHES: Unwashed, each worn 1-3 times             FUTON: Overwatch standard issue, 4 years old             POSTERS: 3 years old, Lt. McCree likes cowboys             TENSION: Lt. McCree doesn’t fully relax even in his own quarters

The android waited as Jesse swiped the tablet and talked through his options aloud, and Fritz turned his gaze toward the closed door at the offer. McCree’s room, while big enough to house him, still only possessed one terminal. It wouldn’t be useful if they both needed it at the same time. His analysis also indicated that tension would only increase, perhaps to the point of hindering their investigation. 

      “Cyberlife wouldn’t have spent a small fortune on a unit that needed a babysitter. Goodnight, lieutenant.”

The door slid open, and the RK500 disappeared from Jesse’s sight. 

A brief scan of the fire emergency route on a nearby wall was all he needed to find room 46, although the door was still locked. The android’s LED flashed yellow as he scanned the number pad beside it.

      CONNECTING, SYNC, COLLECTING DATA, PROCESSING DATA…             Room assignment: Agent Oliveros, retired               Fetching fingerprint data… OK               Fingerprints: Index: 1, 7 | Middle: 8 | Ring: 3               Highest probability passcode: 1-7-3-8

Fritz pressed 1738 on the number pad, and the door immediately opened. As promised, the room was vacant, save for a dual-monitor computer terminal with an office chair, and a bed that was still folded into the wall. Out of the public eye, he was free to remove the military jacket with the cyan arm band and triangle that identified him as an android, and it was hung carefully in the empty closet. 

It would have taken more than a simple scan to guess Oliveros’ terminal password, but luckily, one of the authentication options was voice input. The LED spun yellow as he recalled his conversations over the past hour. It was preferable to asking for his own account at this hour, and he straightened as the headquarters’ AI spoke.

      “State your name for authorization.”

      “McCree, Jesse.”

Fritz’s voice was virtually identical to the lieutenant’s growling drawl, and the AI processed it immediately.

      “Authorization accepted. Welcome home, cowboy.”

The RK500 spent time combing through all of Blackwatch’s files on omnics, Null Sector and androids, though he’d learned all he needed to within ten minutes. Only one file seemed corrupted, that of Agent Bernadette Biltz. Yet she was human, and therefore not part of his investigation. 

Fritz pulled the bed from the wall, and found it had a pillow but no sheets. That hardly mattered to the android, and he methodically removed his shoes before lying down on his side. Within moments, his eyes slid shut and the LED light muted to a dim glow in the darkness. 

          “SIMULATION COMPLETED AT THREE MINUTES, TWENTY-SIX SECONDS. REPEAT?”

     6:30 AM is not the time one expects a man like him to be up, but Jesse always did consider himself to be both a night owl and a morning person. When this man ever gets proper sleep is still a mystery to most on the base, but it’s clear he knows how to function in this state regardless.

     Training Square B is all his at this hour, and he has a bounce to his step, forcing bright energy and keeping himself on his toes as the fourth round begins to set up. Combat boots, simple pants and a tank top frame him, topped with ankle weights and a weighted vest. He adjusts the wireless headphones in his ears, shaking his head as walls around him shift and rearrange to create new maze-like structures and obstacles. Training bots hover about, placing themselves strategically.

     “Repeat.”

          “AFFIRMATIVE.”

     A screen floats in front of him for a moment, showing him the performance on his arm, and his blood pressure and pulse. He dismisses it quickly, opting to reload his revolver and adjusts himself.

          “THREE... TWO... ONE...”

     Jesse in this state would hardly notice if anyone were to enter. The entrance to the Training Square has a screen showing his physical stats, the time reaction of his prosthetic, how long this round has lasted, and even the song that was currently blasting in his headphones. “Who Do You Love - George Thorogood & The Destroyers”. In swift motions, he fires at two bots, and decimates another with his prosthetic, its expensive skull crushed and thrown uselessly against another bot as he moves onto the next target. It’s not long before the bots are destroyed effortlessly, and as he rolls behind one of the walls and fires once more, there’s a ping, and the walls rise up, seemingly to his dismay.

          “SIMULATION COMPLETED AT TWO MINUTES, FORTY-TWO SECONDS. REPEAT?”

     He examines his prosthetic with an amused smirk, then plucks out a headphone. “Didn’t even finish the s--” He glances up at the entrance, and halts a moment. “Uh, no. Coffee break, thanks Athena. Gimme a sec.”

     His attention would be wherever the android had found himself. “Fritz, right? Here to fetch me or ya damn lost? I need a sec to come up with an excuse to say no to whatever the day wants to kill me with.”

Become Human

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nichtschaden‌:

Even as guarded as Lt. McCree was, he still seemed delighted at the image of Sumo. Fritz hoped he could see a dog in person as well, though Connor would hardly be disappointed with his photos of Jesse’s dog. 

      “Well. Commander Reyes knew you were awake, dressed, and in a place where you’d have to think twice about shooting me. I’d say that was a calculated move.”

The slight movement caught his eye as they passed someone’s living quarters, and Fritz turned his gaze without breaking his stride.

      ANALYZING…             Dr. Moira O’Deorain: Geneticist | wrote controversial paper on DNA-altering programs             Tape: Butyl acrylate, methyl acrylate, methyl methacrylate             Damage: Adhesive residue over four months             Lt. McCree has petty grievance with Dr. O’Deorain?

The LED shifted from yellow to blue as they walked on.

      “A room with a bed and a computer terminal would be fine. We can sleep, for lack of a better word. It’s a low power mode that helps optimize biocomponents and refresh our systems. Like humans, I function better if I’ve spent time in sleep mode. And it would probably a hell of a lot less alarming to find an android on a bed rather than standing in a corner. Unless I get extremely damaged, I shouldn’t need hardwired for power.”

Reyes’ door was left untouched, Fritz simply followed behind Jesse.

      “Two months, one week, four days, 13 hours, and 11 minutes. Connor was activated a month earlier than me to negotiate with a deviant PL600 android in Detroit that killed one of its owners and took his child hostage.”

Fritz scanned their immediate surroundings, but every room in that particular hall seemed to be occupied.

      “Is there an empty room I could use?”

     “Yeah but, y’all don’t really need need beds, do you? Don’t it just, take up space?” He furrows his brows, on autopilot as he unlocks his door and throws his belongings around carelessly. 

     Inside, it smells vaguely of hazelnut and bourbon, helped only by freshners at the corners of the room. There’s a desk with a dual-monitor set computer, the screensaver flashing an animated Blackwatch logo, cabinets and doors to the left side of the wall locked, but presumably used to store equipment and potentially weapons, a bed pulled out from the wall at the far right corner before them, and a white futon in the center with a small holoscreen facing it. It’s comfortable, not too big and extravagant, but not suffocating either. Jesse clearly made his home in here, and was hardly even the least bit ashamed about the leather thrown about, the occasional wrapper left here and there, or the two cowboy-themed prints on the walls. The state of them suggested they’d been up for years.

     “Hey, I think I remember seeing that on the news when it happened,” He remarks casually, numb to the idea of it. “World’s full of chaos. ‘Android Crisis’ is what they’ll start calling it I bet.”

     He drops onto the futon with his full weight, bouncing somewhat as he kicks his feet up on the armrest, his entire aesthetic clashing with the stark whites of the room. It takes him a moment to fully register in his cloudy head what Fritz was asking.

     “... Oh, right. I mean, do you need -- Uh.” He scratches at his beard, then opting to scoop up a tablet at the small table near him, skimming through. “Guess they didn’t assign you a room either. Yeesh. I think Oliveros retired for good, he left some weeks ago I think. Poor fella was so damned that even CyberLife sent him an emotional support bot -- Yeah, Room 046.” He tosses his hat on a hanger, and it barely clings to it. The holoscreen lights up to a news channel in Spanish. “I rightly don’t care where you go, so long as my ass isn’t on the line for whatever you do unattended. Reyes or Cyberfucks or whatever may have sent you to me, but that ain’t makin’ me your babysitter. Park in here, or 46, let your algorithm figure that out.”

     Not quite the friendliest invitation, but given the man’s behavior and clear bad habits, he’s certainly not accustomed to simply... behaving like a normal person. He’s cautious and skeptical, but quietly curious, and though he’s allowed himself to drape over the futon and pretend to watch TV, he’s most obviously tense, and keenly aware of everything in his vicinity. As if completely used to the idea that something may jump at him.

Become Human

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nichtschaden‌:

      “Oh I don’t claim to beat him by any stretch of the imagination, I’m just calculating a combination of faster processing and reflexes that may be enough to escape. Enhanced or not, he is still human, and I’m a machine.”

The inquiry clearly caught the man off-guard, though he wasn’t upset by it. Clearly, of all the things Fritz had learned about this vehicle, he’d chosen the right question to ask.

      “There are still dog hairs in the back seat. And stains, for that matter.”

The android watched as McCree retrieved his phone instead of his clearance card, and his head tilted as the device was handed to him. A faint smile lightened the RK500′s face as picture after picture showed a happy dog living its life alongside the Blackwatch operatives. It seemed they all had loved Manny a great deal, and he committed every picture to memory. CyberLife would likely be annoyed that the bulk of the data from his first report would contain dog photos.

      | Omit Manny pictures from report? |

The thought was almost startling, if shock was something he was programmed to feel. Although, the pictures did not constitute evidence toward his investigation, he was ordered to send all information gathered. He would make that decision later.

      “He looks like… a very good dog. And a happy dog, you obviously took good care of him.”

Fritz handed the cellphone back to Jesse as the gates began to open, and his LED flashed as he called on his own memory.

      “My colleague, Connor, an RK800, is working with Detroit police Lieutenant Hank Anderson. He has a Saint Bernard named Sumo, and Connor sent me visual data of him.”

A palm flipped up and revealed a small holographic video from the other android’s point of view as his hand carefully petted the large, contented dog. The Saint Bernard didn’t seem at all bothered by the attention, timid and calculated as it was.

      “I am almost envious he got to see a dog in person. It must be different from images and compiled data.”

The Blackwatch headquarters was a tall, sterile building that was largely empty at this hour. Most of its personnel worked during the day, and their steps echoed down the tiled halls.

      “Commander Reyes hasn’t responded to my messages, he might not be awake.”

     The corners of Jesse’s eyes crinkle at the sight of the dog photo, chuckling happily. “Oh, that’s a good boy,” He says with a scrunched lilt to his voice. “Dependin’ on how long they think we need you around, maybe you can see one, I ‘unno.”

     As they walk through the halls, Jesse would quietly scoop up some tape from an unoccupied desk, carrying it with him as he maneuvers around the halls. “If he ain’t awake then he shouldn’t’ve sent a nocturnal bot at me at this hour,” He says, tearing a piece of tape off and swiftly pressing it the nameplate at Moira’s door they pass without missing a beat to his step. If one were to stop and examine the plate, it would have evidence of adhesive damage, as if it’s a constant battle of peeling tape off that’s always placed there. “I don’t even think we got charging stations for androids, let alone omnic accommodations. Might be kind of weird to just go sleep mode in some office. Or however the hell you guys charge up.”

     He rounds a corner, finds Reyes’ office, and makes aim to knock at the door, but his knuckles stop just before making contact. He hesitates for a long moment, brows furrowing before lowering his fists and turning on his heel. “Yanno what, probably better not to bother ‘im. But if you wake him up, that’s on you, and I guess I’ll run with that.”

     Regardless of the android’s answer, he stomps off sluggishly, likely in the direction of wherever his room/office was. He flexes his mechanical hand a few more times, wiggling each finger. He silently promises himself that first thing in the morning, he was getting his ass right in the training room and testing this sucker out. The reaction timing was definitely noticeable, but like hell he’ll thank the bot for that.

     He ponders a bit over Fritz’s words, and wonders a bit about its program. Perhaps there’s a code tucked away to make them dog lovers or cat lovers, and they just happened to send the right one to a dog person. It’s weird how comfortably human it looks, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit excited to talk to Reyes about it when he got the chance.

     “Hey, how long you been active? Fresh prototype like the Detroit case, or were you from the display wall?”

Become Human

[mxcreed-a]

Send me 🔪 to put a knife to my muse’s throat and see how they react.

[mxcreed-a]

nichtschaden‌:

      “Commander Reyes thinks highly of you regardless,” Fritz recalled from their brief meeting, “he practically threatened me to ensure your safety in this investigation.” 

Those blue eyes turned back to Jesse at the warning, and his LED flashed yellow as he settled back in his seat.

      “… Make that a 3.9% chance of survival.”

In moments of pure analysis, it almost seemed like time stood still. The reality of it was simply that androids could process data far more quickly than a human being, and even the raindrops seemed to slow as Fritz turned a critical gaze on the car itself.

      ANALYZING…             Toyota Corolla: Black paint, age 9 years 7 months              Windshield replaced several times        DRIVER’S AREA…              Dried blood stains: Various ages              Evidence of removal: Cleaning with hydrogen peroxide attempted              DNA? Sample needed for identification       SEATS…             Patches: Crudely stitched imitation leather, possible knife altercation             Old stains and dog hair: Breed: Schnauzer        GLOVE BOX…              Reinforced lock: contents unknown       TRASH…             Various area fast food wrappers: Lieutenant frequently eats in vehicle       WEAPONS…             4 inch blade: Beneath glove compartment             Revolver handgun: Beneath driver’s seat             Anti-omnic EMP handgun: Beneath passenger seat             Easier access to revolver suggests higher paranoia for people than machines

The sound of rain reached the android’s ears once more, though barely a second had passed. To McCree, it would have looked like Fritz had simply made a passing glance at the interior of the car. His expression never changed, even at the sobering question.

      “There is no failsafe. Should you fear for your life, shoot me. The EMP gun under my seat would buy you approximately one minute, twenty-nine seconds to escape. A headshot with the revolver beneath your own seat would be the most efficient means of ending me, though Cyberlife would rather you aim for my thirium pump regulator and leave my central processor intact.”

Fritz looked over his shoulder at the back seat once again, clearly more interested in different revelations about the vehicle.

      “You had a dog, right? I like dogs. What was your dog’s name?”

     Jesse chuckles a little. “I love the arrogance of putting any chance of survival against a Shimada.”

     He makes a turn, and the car dips for a moment, a satisfying Splash! heard outside. He drums his fingers on the wheel, though his head snaps back over to him and down to his seat at the mention of his gun. Damn androids. “Right, right, just say ‘heart’.”

     The mention of a dog, however, jolts him for a moment. He looks over to the backseat before snapping back to the road, clearly befuddled. “How did you --” He decides not to bother. He’d read about the advancements CyberLife had on their AI, stuff far more powerful than omnics. He runs a hand down his face. “Uh, yeah. Manny, called him Manny. I found him as a stray, he was an old little guy already, so I took him in.”

     He scratches his jaw. “How the hell did you even -- I haven’t had the little guy around in a while...”

     He falls silent for a bit, and finally enters the clearing towards the HQ. He stops the car at the gates, but instead of fishing for his card for clearance to enter, he retrieves his phone. There’s another moment longer before he finally comes to the right gallery on his screen, and hands it over to Fritz for him to scroll through. On it? Pictures of said dog, typically in a red bandanna for a collar. Some, he was rolling in some grass, another, he was in Gabriel’s arms. A lot of them he was just sleeping.

     Jesse gets the clearance to enter while he allows Fritz to have his phone for a moment, searching for his parking space. “I always keep a lotta pictures of him around. I dunno if androids have the capability of findin’ things cute, but, well,” He flashes a grin at Fritz. “He’s just damn adorable, ain’t he?”

Become Human

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