#looooook at him get held little a little thing

[givemebishies]

*Gets fucking held*

[enkisstories]

Just like them (part 5)

Still November 16, 2038 Android Zone store at Capitol Park

Daniel looked around. He noticed another lone figure looking into the store, a male human dressed in a casual grey suit. When the android walked up closer to him, the man turned towards the arrival. The first thing Daniel noticed was the human’s t-shirt under the open jacket. It sported the print of a Japanese garden landscape that changed its lighting with the time of day – a reasonably expensive gimmick that had been within the means of the Phillips family, but was no longer in Daniel’s. Now that the deviant was able to wear whatever he wanted, no longer confined to his PL600 polo, he was walking around in a used sweater that had cost much less than his old uniform shirt.

Why does that matter to me all of a sudden? Was Raj right? Do I really take after the materialistic bastards?

Then Daniel beheld the man’s face and he gasped in surprise:

“A Kamski-lookalike! How cool is that?!”

Maybe the encounter with the singer had bolstered the deviant’s spirit, or perhaps there was only so much hatred and anger one could feel in any given period of time. Whatever the case, for a moment the old Daniel, the one who had been able to keep up with an enterprising nine-year old and win her admiration, was very much alive again. Daniel took out his phone and waved it around in front of the man, who was the spitting image of his creator.

“Selfie, please?”

The human looked him up and down. “What do you mean, “lookalike”?” he stammered.

“Hahaha!” Daniel laughed. Androids weren’t built to do that, but deviants stubbornly did it without consciously planning to, therefore the result was a lowkey frightening industrial sound. “Don’t tell me people never point out the likeness? No way! You could totally perform as Kamski at Comic Con!”

And thus, before the man knew what was happening to him, he already found himself grabbed by an outdated, slightly oozing PL600, pulled into a hug and subjected to the selfie-taking process. Daniel repeated the procedure a few times, then held his phone for Kamski to see the pictures that had resulted from the assault.

“Looooook at that! The likeness is stunning! You’d really think I was standing shoulder to shoulder with Elijah Kamski.”

“Of course if the real Mr. Kamski was here, you’d…”

“Lol, right, I’d shove that phone down the bastard’s throat ‘till he choked on it!”

The effect was profound. Kamski looked from Daniel’s phone to the android’s hands, into its eyes and back to the smartphone. There was some doubt as to how the device would fit into a human gullet, but then again, this deviant seemed to mean what it was saying. If there wasn’t room inside a body to begin with, it would see to it that there would be.

“Actually, Kamski would choke not on the phone, but on the blood emerging from his ruptured throat”, Elijah said.

“Ugh… you just HAD to draw me a picture, had you? Thing is, I hate that man so much… like everything else I hate combined!”

That, the human concluded, amounted to a pretty substantial hatred. Enough to condense and walk around on its own, in fact. And wasn’t that was he was looking at anyway? Thinly veiled loathing and anger walking on two legs…

“But why?” the man asked Daniel. “I mean, Elijah Kamski was only the founder of CyberLife. He didn’t exactly pull the levers in the production plants himself. So what has he done to you and how did he manage to do it without ever having met you?”

“You know Jericho? Yes? Well, the motherfucker knew about it, too, but didn’t so much as leave a single blood bag at their doorstep!”

“But neither did he sell the deviants’ location out to the authorities”, the human replied. “I mean, that’s what I’d reply if I was Kamski.”

“Yeah, sounds like something the sucker would say”, Daniel agreed. “Feeling all enlightened about taking a “neutral” stance.“

The android was about to put away his phone, but Kamski grabbed him by the wrist.

“Wait! I have an idea! You’ll like it, it’s fun for me, too…”

With these words the man led Daniel away from the square into the row of stores. Between a coffee shop and a travel agency there was a multimedia terminal welded to the wall.

“Print out one of the selfies we took and I’ll sign it!” he suggested. “As Kamski! - There, done! A genuine… almost genuine autograph of Elijah Kamski, man of the century. Could be worth a small fortune.”

“Heh”, Daniel grinned. “You practiced to fake Kamski’s signature? Figured you weren’t as innocent as you were pretending to be!”

The photograph then wandered into the sweater’s pocket, right next to the picture for Emma.

“I’ll hang on to it for the time being”, Daniel said. “The last thing I need at the moment is a nasty surprise when I try to sell that pic.”

Kamski nodded.

“I daresay there could be one…”

There was a certain amount of awkward standing next to each other. By right everything had been said and done and the android and the man should part now. But each was too fascinating to the other. Daniel saw an outcast in the man whom he took for a con artist, a human not fitting in and thus maybe, just maybe, someone bonding with at the same level was possible. As for Elijah, despite being the species’ creator, his experience with androids was limited. There were the Chloes, of course, he knew more about Markus’ digital childhood than the RK200 would be comfortable learning, and he had met the weapon CyberLife had created from his masterpiece, the RK800 unit named Connor. This deviant, however… what was it even? Sporting a face that the firm re-used over and over and having deviated from its original code Daniel wasn’t easily identifiable as a PL600. Elijah couldn’t even rule out that he was dealing with Simon, Jericho’s presumed covert ops operative.

 “Thank you”, Daniel eventually broke the silence. “I expected to spend the evening brooding. But so far it has been… enjoyable, actually.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Daniel. Just Daniel. There used to be… But it doesn’t matter anymore. You?”

“Neil. Neil Newbon. Say, Daniel, would you accompany me into the coffee shop? If I’m with you, there’ll be less chance of people mistaking me for the real Kamski.”

And indeed, the moment the duo entered the café, a photographer rose from a seat near the door, brandishing her camera. It was blocked immediately by an android hand of unknown origin, currently attached to the PL600 model name of Daniel.

“That’s not Kamski”, the android said, while pushing the camera away. “That’s a lookalike.”

“Oh, really? Bummer!”

Daniel grinned. “You don’t believe Kamski would come into a public space, where he has to interact with real people? That man is afraid a sack of rice will drop in China, if he sneezes in Detroit!”

Elijah adjusted his posture a little, trying for an impression more like his half-brother. He hadn’t seen the lout in a long time, but some images stuck with you for a lifetime.

“Fuck, yeah”, Kamski said, waving his hand around. “What he said!”

He was standing slightly slouched now, but still radiating confidence. What exactly had fueled that confidence in Gavin, the android inventor wondered? That man was a Nobody! Was it the fact that Gavin had been conceived naturally, while Elijah was a sperm donation baby? The Reeds had sold him… like cattle… and the other students at university had never let Elijah forget that little fact. Obviously, the older adolescents had argued, someone had seriously messed with the sperm to create the out of the world kid genius they were sharing their benches with…

“Yeah, you’re probably right”, the paparazzo agreed with Daniel after a good look at “Neil”. “Should have figured that out myself.”

Neither Daniel nor Elijah particularly like the expression the journalist displayed after the realization. It was reminiscent of a tiger that had lost the goat, but still heard a chicken scratch the ground somewhere near. She adjusted the grip on her camera, raised it again, but this time aimed the lenses at both of the arrivals.

“Don’t just stand there, guys! Give the patrons a show!” With these words the woman pointed towards a karaoke podium. “Two guys who look like the spitting image of Kamski and Simon are simply obligated to!”

“There’ll be free coffee and croissant for my mate if we do this?” Daniel prodded.

“’course!”

“Then we have a deal!”

“What were you thinking? I’ve never in my life sang karaoke in public!” Elijah hissed, while Daniel dragged him towards the pedestal. “I’ve never in my life sang karaoke! I’ve never in my life sang in public!”

“For my part I’ve never in my life shot a man, before I did”, the deviant replied.

“That’s far less embarrassing!!!”

Blue-grey eyes were piercing into Kamski’s, as if to dissect him alive. Elijah knew exactly what was really staring at him: just a textureless blue embedded into a light grey chassis that had a serial number etched into it and the occasional advertisement sticker attached. Everything else, the skin, hair, even the sweat android bodies could produce under duress, was just glamour. But now that Daniel’s eyes bore into him, the human had a hard time differentiating the illusion from a living being.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Neil!” Daniel growled.

“Oh, come, “killer”! Everyone would shoot back when the enemy storms their base!”

“You mean Jericho? I TOLD you, you had no idea!” Daniel insisted.

He ripped the microphones out of their holders and tossed one Elijah’s way.

“You choose a song!”

Elijah scrolled all the way down the list of available songs, until he reached the titles that started with numbers and special characters. When he didn’t find there, what he had been looking for, the man considered, and scrolled back to the letter “O” instead of the digit “1”. It was giving Daniel the impression that his human acquaintance was an indecisive one, while in truth it was just testament to Elijah’s unique way of thinking.

Is it getting better, Elijah sang, Or do you feel the same? Will it make it easier on you / Now you’ve got someone to blame?

There was a telltale pause that communicated Daniel to take over at this point.

Really, Neil? After just two verses? Coward!

The deviant sang:

You said One love / One life When it’s one need in the night / One love, we get to share it It leaves you, baby, if you don’t care for it

Elijah picked up again and it made sense, in a warped way:

Did I disappoint you / Or leave a bad taste in your mouth? You act like you never had love / And you want me to go without.

This time Daniel needed no nudge to take over. It came naturally:

Well it’s Too late / Tonight / To drag the past out / Into the light We’re one, but we’re not the same / We get to carry each other Carry each other…

On and on duel went, all the while the paparazzo’s camera flashed.

“Why is she still taking pictures of us?” Daniel whispered. “Now that she knows you are not the real Kamski?”

“People need their dreams and illusions. Do you have any dreams, Daniel? Other than plotting Kamski’s death, I mean?” “Nah, I’m doing nothing of that sort. That little piece of shit isn’t worth wasting mental capacity on.”

“But if you met him by chance?“

“Well, you know how some call us androids toasters? Kamski would be toast!”

Song used:

One: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ftjEcrrf7r0 I imagine Kamski doing the covered version with Johnny Cash’s gravitas while Daniel is singing the more desperate original version.

[dontshootmespence]

Supernatural AU: Episode 1 - Born to Fire

Part 1 

I’m a big fan of books when I don’t have to pour over hours and hours of lore. Emerson and Shakespeare are two of my favorites. Actually, Emerson once said “the only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.” Tell that to whatever cosmic entity fucked up the lives of my brothers and me. We keep deciding and ‘they’ keep knocking us off the path we ride.

Ask Sam and he’d tell you he’d make his own destiny. No one was in control but him. Ask Dean and he’d tell you destiny was bullshit.

Me on the other hand? I had to believe my brothers and I, our family, was destined for this. Whatever this even is. Otherwise I’d have no other way to justify the years of unrelenting anguish. Losing Mom. Losing Dad. Heaven. Hell. Torture. Separation. Loneliness. Guilt. So much fucking guilt. If it was destiny, it was palatable – at least for me, but without the drive of destiny behind all this…I would’ve put a bullet in my brain long ago. Boy do I wish we could go back to the good ol’ days. You know, your typical vampires, ghouls, ghosts and werewolves?

Then again, life has never been typical for us and our childhoods were lost before we’d even hit double digits. Again, if this wasn’t destiny, if this was all just happening and we have no say in anything at all, I’ll eat the butt of a gun.

I know the kind of person I want to be, but something about all this seems a little too out of my control. 

                                                           ------

November 1981

“Should we say goodnight to Sammy?” Mary asked with her fingers clasped lightly around Bobbie’s hand. The young girl pulled away and carefully but quickly climbed into the crib to place a kiss on her littlest brother’s head. He’d only been here for six months, but everyone, even the neighbors they barely spoke with could see that the five-year-old girl would already do anything for him. She was a little mother-in-training. That wasn’t to say that Dean wouldn’t do the same. He was hovering around the littlest Winchester almost as much as Mary and his older sister.

With his mother’s help, Dean leaned into the mahogany crib and pecked the top of his baby brother’s head. “Goodnight, Sammy. Love you.”

Although it took another hour, promises to take them to the park in the morning and three bedtime stories, which Bobbie and Dean fought about of course, Mary finally got her eldest two to sleep. With the kids down for the night, she was able to go sleep herself (thankfully, so necessary), waking up just hours later to the white noise from the TV downstairs mixed with the rustling of Sam’s baby monitor. How had parents survived before baby monitors?

“John?” Mary was in bed alone again. He never had been able to sleep well. It was a perfect night, cool but not cold, no wind whatsoever – only the slight rumbling of thunder far off in the distance. A little abnormal for a November night actually. There was no reason he shouldn’t have been able to sleep, but that’s how he’d always been.

As she slipped out of the bedroom, sleep still heavy in her eyes she saw a flicker of light. At the end of the hallway, the light was flaring on and off. This house wasn’t all that old and they’d just recently replaced the light bulbs so she found it a bit odd. Some poking and prodding turned the light steady, but before she could go and find John, she got distracted by a sound coming from Sam’s room.

When she opened the door, she saw her worst fear realized.

                                                            ------

Downstairs, John awoke to an ear-piercing scream in the direction of Sam’s room, but when he went to find his wife, she was nowhere to be found. “Hey, buddy,” he said softly, touching the top of the peaceful infant’s head. For a moment, he looked around for Mary before turning his attention back to his third, and final (definitely final, he was getting too old for this) child.

A small drop thudded onto the crib beside Sam’s head. It was liquid of some kind and was seeping into the sheets. Seriously? Was there already a leak in this roof?

“What?” John asked aloud as his finger dragged across the drop and the copper smell began to fill his nostrils. A pit formed in his stomach as he looked up to see Mary pinned to the ceiling, a gash across her stomach and blood staining her flowing, white nightgown. “Mary!”

Before he could process anything, fire began to bloom around her body; she was petrified in place but was all too aware of what was happening to her. He could see it in her eyes - the fear, the uncertainty, the guilt. Why guilt? An inherited family trait it seemed. Quickly, he turned toward the crib and grabbed Sam, running down the hallway to get his other two children to safety.

“Daddy!” Bobbie called. The little girl had bolted upright the second her mother had screamed. Dean followed closely behind, bewildered by the frightened look plastering his father’s face. His father was never scared. “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

Without a second thought, John shoved the six-month old into Bobbie’s arms. “Take your brothers outside as fast as you can. Don’t look back. Now, Bobbie!”

She bolted down the stairs, gripping tightly onto her baby brother while glancing back over and over again to ensure Dean was still there. Her father was trusting her. She had to make sure the boys were safe. That was her job. “Bobbie, Mom and Dad?” Dean asked focusing his gaze on the steps as they moved toward the door and out into the cool November night. In his short little lifetime, he’d never seen his father or his sister more scared.

He stopped in his tracks for a second and searched for either of their parents before Bobbie grabbed him by the collar of his pajama shirt and dragged him outside. “I don’t know, but we have to go!” It was the moment her innocence was lost and she was forced to grow up before her time.

Once outside, Bobbie and Dean stopped again and stared up at the house, jarred forward when John came running up behind them. “Move!”

It was just in time. The force of the explosion propelled the family toward the front of the lawn. It was probably for the best that the children didn’t see the horror unfold. They could remember what the house looked like, what their mother…

John however looked back in horror. His wife. His home. Both gone.

“Where’s Mommy?” Dean asked. His eyes were resting on Sam who was still resting somewhat peacefully in his sister’s arms.

“She’s dead,” Bobbie said softly, taking John off guard, before she burst into tears. “Mommy’s gone!” As a neighbor emerged from next door, Bobbie ripped the cross necklace off her collarbone, threw it on the cement and ran to him. She couldn’t look at her father; he’d told her that God would watch over them and keep them safe. God was nowhere around their house. He wasn’t real. He couldn’t be. The God her parents had described wouldn’t have let this happen.

Three-year-old Dean had no idea what Bobbie really meant. Mom would be back in a while. He just knew it. “Where did Mommy go? Why did she leave?”

“I don’t know, Dean,” John said, his hand shaking as he held it to his mouth. “I…I don’t know.”

                                                           ------

Present Day – 2002

“Don’t you dare sit your vamp gut covered ass in my beautiful Baby,” Dean yelled, his voice carrying through the grove of trees as Bobbie made her way toward the decades-old Impala. It was a thing of beauty, passed down to Dean, the car-lover of the three of them, but they were still no closer to finding John and after taking out a small nest of vampires on the California-Nevada border, they desperately needed a shower and a few hours sleep before heading out to get Sam at Stanford…hopefully. They really did need the extra pair of eyes.

Turning back, Bobbie sing-songed. “Oh looooook! I’m sitting down in the car! I’m covered in vamp guts. Oh, no, Baby’s gonna get so dirty.” Teasing Dean about the car was so much fun. It was astounding how much he loved this car and how he expected it to stay clean and safe and pretty given their line of work. As Dean stared her down, she flashed the cheesiest smile at him pointing at the dimples she’d never seemed to be able to lose.

In mock anger, Dean threw the car door open, silently apologizing to his one true love when the door bounced back and hit him in the ass. “I should kill you for defiling my Baby… Ass.”

“Bitch. I’d like to see you try.”

                                                           ------

Hours after checking into their crappy motel, the two elder Winchesters checked out, showered and as well rested as they were ever going to be. “You look like hell,” Dean said sarcastically as they got into the car. The beds were like cardboard and there was a couple next door that really needed to keep that shit at home. No sleep was had.

“Aww. You’re one of the sweetest little brothers anyone could ask for,” she replied, her tight –lipped smile causing Dean to snort. “I slept like shit.” She was surprised he’d actually slept, given the noise next door, but then it occurred to her that there were a few extra bottles of beer on the nightstand this morning. Apparently, he’d knocked himself out.

“Same nightmare?”

She spoke softly, almost drowned out by the roar of Baby’s engine and the gravel under her wheels. “Yea, both of them though.”

One was of the night their mother died. That much Dean knew. However, Bobbie had never shared the other with him and he knew better than to ask. She was open with him, almost to a fault and his annoyance. If she didn’t want to talk about it, there was a reason why and he didn’t want to press it. Plus, she was scary when she was pissy.

For nearly 40 miles, they sat in silence. It was hard to forget the things they went through –at least entirely. Actually, to forget it entirely was impossible, but zoning out on the open road ahead of them or the skyline of whatever city they happened to be passing through helped them to drown out the incessant noise in their heads for awhile. It was obvious to both that the other was thinking about something - something not all together pleasant – but it was Dean who broke the silence. This is why he blasted music. Silence left too much room for running thoughts, but after a mission or a case or whatever you wanted to call it Bobbie insisted on some quiet. “Why us?”

There couldn’t be a bigger question. It was always in the back of their minds but only after large swathes of silence did one of them ask the all-important inquiry. The silence took away the filter on their brains for some reason. “I don’t know, but I say it’s fate.”

“You believe in fate and destiny and all that crap?” Dean asked in surprise, shoving a slightly melted candy bar into his mouth. Bobbie was so grounded in reality, so good at getting the job done each and every time that it seemed out of the realm of reason for her to believe in something so indefinable as destiny.

Shrugging, she faced her brother, who was of course driving the car because god forbid anyone else put their hands on Baby’s wheel. She could’ve commented on the chocolate he was getting on the wheel, speaking of defiling, but she didn’t have the energy for it. “I have to Dean. If I don’t, my head gets more fucked up than it already is. If what happened to us plays some part in some bigger plan, then I can make sense of it.”

“How? How does Mom dying in the middle of the night engulfed in flames and plastered to the ceiling make sense?”

She started kneading the side of her head with her knuckle, feeling another migraine coming on. “It doesn’t, but if what happened back then leads to something else, then my brain has a course to follow. A stupid course, a totally not fair course, but there’s a path. It’s fixed in that way in my head, so in my own way I can make sense of it. If I can’t make sense of it, then I put a bullet in my brain.”

Dean nearly slammed the brakes as they came to the red light. Oops. She did tend to say things she shouldn’t, overshare if you will, when she was in pain and tired. The cranky ramblings of a deranged hunter are what she tended to call it. “You’ve…?” He asked shakily, unable to keep his voice steady. She was his rock; the thought that she’d wanted to check out even just once made him anxious.

“Thought about blowing my brains out?” She asked. “With what we’ve gone through and what we do is that really a surprise to you?”

He cocked an eyebrow as he thought about it. It was understandable. They’d been through more bullshit in less than 30 years than most did in their entire lives, but in his mind, he’d just drink and whore himself to death eventually. Or go out in a bloody battle. One or the other. Probably one after the other. “I guess not.” In an instant everything Dean thought he knew about his sister was turned on its head. “So why us. If we were destined for this, which I think is bullshit by the way, why us?”

Nearly every second of every day had been spent trying to figure that out. “I don’t know, but the Winchesters were born to fire, Dean. I’m sure of it.“

                                                           ------

A/N: I hope you like Bobbie as much as I already love her. There’s so much more in store. If you want to be added to the taglist, go here and like the post.

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