overjoyed_logs | [closed] various prompts

Good.

[There's a force behind it that she meant to hide but can't, although part of her questions how selfish that relief is, if she's just glad she hasn't made a huge judgement mistake on befriending Rhys.

But she can tell this goes deeper than just a weapon, the way he instinctively flinched back makes her think of a whipped dog more than a person with a normal concern about someone being armed.]

C'mon, let's wait in the cockpit, you can sit with me.

[It's an invitation more than an order, but something tells Steph that Gio will follow without question when she heads into the ship.]

[A whipped dog. The analogy would have made him want to roll his eyes, smile his wry smile, and yet it's apt enough all the same. Just another factor of his conditioning-- once you've felt something like that, what it does to you, it's not easy to forget. It had been early on after they'd 'awoken' that they'd been given their very first taste of it, what that poison could do to things like them. Just a small cut, the blade barely hurt as it went in, but what came after-- he doesn't like to think of it. Pain is almost a matter of indifference for him these days, but the Dog Bite, that's still something.

He still remembers Unit 67's face when things went wrong, that day. How she'd looked when it had been plunged into her Spine. How she'd looked whilst she'd died.

Almost indiscernibly, he shakes his head.]

Yes, Ma'am.

[Because yes it had been worded softly, but he'll take it as an order all the same. Follow as unquestiningly as she'd anticipated.]

[As soon as she's inside the ship, she feels a little better, a little safer in this space she's carved out for herself. It's Company owned, technically, but she's the only pilot, and it feels more like home than her apartment. One day soon she'll be able to buy it for herself.

For now, though, she leads Gio to the cockpit, tossing the Dog Bite into her own chair as if she's disgusted to even be touching the thing (she is) and leaning against the console instead. Aside from during the actual process of flying, Steph doesn't sit like a normal person.]

While I'm around, no one's gonna use that shit on you, okay? Not me, not anyone else.

[It feels like a useless platitude, when there's so much time she can't be around to protect him, but it's all she can offer.]

[Giovanni follows her, remains standing as they enter the cockpit, something poised and alert in his posture, as though he doesn't quite know how to relax. Or doesn't think he should. He only watches as she tosses the Dog Bite down, isn't going to protest, and again there's the slight tilt of his head as she makes her pronouncement, an unnecessary promise that he isn't convinced she'd be able to keep. She's just a Company pilot, how she'd go about preventing it if someone needed to use the blade on him, he doesn't know.

(But there's something else there, the memory of her small reactions that day with Rhys stirring slightly in his mind. Something a little out of the ordinary about her.)

Again, there's the brief flicker of his smile, shoulders slicing at the air in a shrug.]

Oh, I don't know. If things were to get out of hand with me, if I couldn't stop, you might change your tune.

[He talks as though he's not in control of himself, some feral thing that can't be trusted, and it doesn't fit with the cool and controlled image she has of him. Sure, he got angry when Rhys spoke badly of Sui Feng, but he didn't Rhys' head off.]

Has that ever actually happened?

[It's how they've been taught to think of themselves, to view themselves. Something not quite domesticated, a little unstable. And to some extent, it's true. There have been instances among the Dogs, Unit 67 being one such case, and when Giovanni fights it can be with a savage brutality that might bring to mind something feral, something terribly inhuman, but that isn't what she's asking. Slowly, he shakes his head.]

I have a perfect track record, Ma'am. So there's no need for concern. I'm not going to bite. Hahah.

[Somehow his sense of humour doesn't come as a surprise, and even if she's still not in much of a good mood, that pun gets a quirk of a smile out of her.]

Then that thing seems pretty unnecessary to me. You don't bite me and I won't bite you.

[#kinkshaming]

That seems a fair exchange.

[And that's the way it works, most of the time. With most Handlers. It's only occasionally he'll get one who becomes a little too nervous, decides to use the Bite prematurely. Or the other type, the sadists, who just want to see what it'll do.

She's not a Handler, and she doesn't seem as though she'd fall into either of those categories, besides.]

[It still doesn't sit well with her, but she feels powerless to actually change anything, short of like, kidnapping Gio and taking him away from the Company.]

If anyone gets too eager to use it, you should let us know, me or Rhys. Between us I'm sure we can figure something out.

[Rhys can pull rank, and Steph can... well, she'll figure it out.]

[It's a response that has him frowning, just slightly. Unsure of what he's supposed to make of it. What she's trying to do, here.]

You don't need to be this way with me, you realise. I'm a Dog, Ma'am. Expensive equipment, that's all.

[Expensive equipment, he says, and everything suddenly makes sense, leaving her feeling a little sick.]

People can't be equipment it doesn't work like that.

[He shrugs then, smiles a brief, glacial smile with just the hint of teeth. His expression, it's one of infinite indifference.]

Dogs aren't people.

[Maybe that should be unsettling, but she's too angry to really register it.]

Am I gonna have to go buy a damn philosophy book to make a point?

[He doesn't know much about philosophy-- they'd received no formal education, after all, nothing beyond what was deemed necessary for them to adequately execute their role. A lot of what he knows has been gleaned from books that he technically isn't encouraged to look at, and as such it's limited to the things that interest him or which he's been able to get hold of.

Still. He has his own ideas about things. Or perhaps more accurately, the ideas that have been drummed into him by those who made him.]

Would you call that a person?

[And he motions with one pale hand towards the discarded blade.]

I'm really no different. Don't let appearances deceive you, now.

A knife doesn't have feelings.

[It's so obvious to her, but something tells her that simple facts aren't going to undo whatever the hell has been done to make him think like this. The Bite made her think of conditioning, negative responses, and she has to wonder if this is the same.

(She has to wonder how a pilot knows all this, but now isn't the time).]

[Feelings-- well, he certainly has them. But they're something strange and largely disconnected unless they're reduced down to the most basic parts, cold hard fear, animal joy. The rest are at something of a remove from him, nothing he can accurately name or identify. And if there's a big blank feeling at the centre of his chest, something that hurts sometimes, like an open wound, it's been there so long that, more often than not, he just takes it for a state of existence, there in everyone, perhaps.

Again, he shrugs.]

You're welcome to think what you like, I suppose. But it doesn't change anything.

Giovanni--

[The anger softens; there's no use getting angry when it's just Giovanni here, because he isn't the one who did this, so it's replaced by something almost gentle.

But she's cut off by the sound of footsteps echoing on the floor of the ship as the Handler appears at the entrance to the cockpit. She has to bite her tongue to stop from saying anything at the way he eyes Gio.

The Bite, he says, and she wonders how badly it would hurt this asshole if she ran him through.]

Right here, sir.

[Having to defer to someone is never enjoyable for her, it's just an unfortunate side effect of the job. It doesn't stop her from picking the blade up from where she dropped it and handing it over, hilt first, hands steady.]

We're ready to leave when you are.

[She wants to just get this over with, but she can't help the slightest dig at the fact they were held up waiting for this douchebag.]

[That softness in her voice, the blurred edges of it around his name, it has him looking up at her quickly, something sharp there in his face, a little confused. But whatever she's going to say to him is cut off by the arrival of his Handler, and when the man walks in Giovanni's expression flattens out into something dead and cold. Perfectly blank.

The look the man gives him is much the same as the kind Giovanni would use when examining his Walthers, only with an undercurrent of distaste, and though the Dog has the urge to smirk when Steph makes her little dig, he holds back on it. Maintains his perfect coolness. Knows better.

The Handler frowns slightly, takes the weapon, gives Steph a long steady look.

You shouldn't have brought it in here. It belongs in the cargo bay, with the shipment.-- and it's clear he isn't talking about the Dog Bite.

Let's get a move on then, shall we? as though it hadn't been him they were waiting on at all, and he turns sharply then, makes a small motion with his hand that indicates Giovanni should follow, Come, 68..

Remaining a respectful two paces behind the man, Giovanni does as he's been bidden.]

Suck my dick.

[The words are muttered under her breath, not loud enough for the Handler to hear but maybe Gio will catch it, as Steph stares daggers at the man's back until he's out of sight. She's still angry and unsettled, but there's a job to do, so it's going to get done.

In the pilot's seat, Steph hooks a comm device over her ear, preferring to have the ship's AI speak directly to her rather than over the loud speaker, and gets the ship up in the air.

The flight itself is relatively boring, with Steph's thoughts occupied by worrying about Giovanni and annoyance at the Company, she's glad that she doesn't have to pay a whole lot of attention to the trip. It isn't until they're coming in over the Badlands (high enough to avoid any technical issues) that the AI issues a warning of incoming fire. The first few volleys are dodged with quick thinking and the speed of her ship, but eventually one of them makes contact with the ship. It's worse than the last shot it took, she can tell by the way there's alarms blaring around her as they quickly lose altitude.

There's no chance of them staying in the air, but Steph has the AI broadcast a hold on as she does her best to get them to the ground safely.

They hit hard, but on a gentle enough angle that the ship skids for a few yards before finally coming to a stop. Steph's gut reaction is to run to check on Giovanni, except there are more important things to do, which means shutting down on her concern and focusing on checking the ship. A quick back and forth with the AI reveals a damn hole in the hull and more than a dozen figures fast approaching.

This is more than just bad luck. Someone was expecting them.

Now she can run towards the cargo hold, looking for Gio, though she makes sure to grab her gun first.]

We've got company, half a dozen vehicles from the east.

[Oh, he hears it. Has to bite back on a barking laugh, but he maintains his silence and poise as he follows the Handler out of the cockpit, heads down to the cargo bay 'where he belongs'.

And if Steph is bored during the flight, Giovanni is most likely moreso-- smooth sailing, nothing but silence and inertia for hours at a time, and the shipment doesn't exactly make for lively company. His Handler doesn't address him at all, only coolly observes him now and again with that same look of detatched distaste, and the initial buzz and thrum in him from earlier in the day begins to flatten out into numb indifference, the sense he'd had before - that this would be interesting, that it'd be something - slowly bleeding out of him in the wake of the continued monotony.

And then it starts.

There's the difference in speed, in movement, the signs of evasive action, and suddenly all that had been flat and dull in him starts to spark into fervent life again, the panting clattering thing in his Spine stirring and moving and seeming to murmur yesyesyes. The command to hold on comes through just a moment before that rocketing blast, the Handler curses low under his breath and again, Giovanni chokes down a joyful laugh as he does as instructed, holds on.

And down they go.

The impact is bonejarring, sends his Handler scudding across the ground despite his attempts to hold on but Giovanni's increased strength at least allows him a firmer hold then that, means he stays on his feet even as the ship slides across the dusty ground of the Badlands.

By the time Steph reaches them, Giovanni's hauling the Handler to his feet-- the man looks dazed, unsteady, whilst the Dog flashes her a razorblade smile. There's an animate joy in his face that's unlike anything she'll have seen on him before, awake and alert and ready.]

Show time.

[That smile, that joy, it isn't something she's seen on him, but it cuts through her like a blade, sending a shiver down her spine as she can't help but echo it, fear dropping away to be replaced by adrenalin.]

There's a hole in the hull, starboard side. They'll try to get in through there.

[The words are directed at Gio rather than the Handler, who she a) hates and b) has decided is useless if he can't even keep his wits about him during a small crash.]

[It's interesting, the reaction in her, the answering rush of adrenaline, and there's the brief tilt of his head as he aids the Handler to his feet, the man looking around almost vaguely for a moment before his eyes settle on Steph.

Get back to the cockpit. Stay out of the way. Stay out of the Dog's way, no matter what--.

But Giovanni, at least, is already moving, and the man doesn't try to stop him, knows what to expect in a situation like this, the iron grasp of his command loosening at least enough to give Giovanni free reign to do what he was created to do.

When the Dog speaks, it's to Steph.]

Then that's where we're going.

[Far be it from him to reiterate the Handler's warning to stay put if what she wants is to get out and play.

He starts to run then, and it's fast, too fast to be called human, movements slick and fluid and full of preternatural grace.]

With all due respect, they shot my ship.

[So the Handler can shove his instructions up his ass for all she cares, since he seems far more scared of Gio than of a bunch of Westie criminals.

He tries to protest but she's already moving, nowhere near as fast as Gio considering the fact she's only got her regular human legs to carry her through the ship towards the hole. It means that when she makes it, the vehicles have already pulled up, people spilling out of them, and she doesn't hesitate to lift her gun to shoot the first one she gets clear sight of. Gio's already in the thick of it, and she wonders if maybe he can handle it on his own, except that doesn't sit right with her, and not just because she really wants to hit someone.

The next few shots are taken as she moves closer, until another vehicle pulls up from behind, nearly running her over, but more importantly she loses her gun as she scrambles to get out of the way.

Focus.

The voice in her head isn't hers, a flash of a memory accompanied by a woman's warm smile and the smell of sweat, before the vehicle swings around to take another shot at her.

This time, she doesn't dodge.

Clearly the hood is surprisingly easy, holding her balance as the driver swerves is easy, running forward to kick said driver in the head is a little trickier, but not impossible. When the vehicle starts to get out of control, she leaps off, landing in a roll and bouncing to her feet as soon as she's clear.

And then she's in the fray.

There's something thrumming in her blood, more than just adrenalin, more than just the exertion of the fight. It feels like home, ducking punches, flipping up and over crooks (she didn't even know she could do that), delivering hard kicks to where she knows it'll hurt this most. Whatever this is, it feels like home.]

[And Giovanni-- well.

It's carnage.

The people spill out of their vehicles but no doubt regret will soon pulse hot in them because he reaches them with swift predatory movements, decides in a moment to forgo his guns, to treat them to the full extent of his terrible brutality and he clears the last stretch of distance between them in one graceful leap--

--slamming down into the first hijacker and driving him to the ground. It's in him now, the rattle and shake and the fast ascending animal joy as every nerve in him screams fight and he pulls his hand back, smashes it down, tearing in through flesh and muscle and bone until his fingers curl around the man's still beating heart, yanks it free with a sick sucking wrench and he's laughing, high and sharp and piercing.

Shots are fired, three bullets thudding into his shoulder and chest but he barely takes any notice as the smoke begins to rise from him, as the wounds heal over with a sizzle and fizz of fierce kinetic energy and he's on his feet again then, whirling, tearing through them with inimical glee. There's the crunch and twist of breaking bones, shouts of panic, the screaming begins and he rips the throat right out of a man who tries to rush him, teeth sinking in deep and wrenching free, the wound bloody and open and raw and the copperhot taste of it fills his mouth, makes him spark with something euphoric, something good.]

[It's the screams that draw her attention, or at least part of it, as she won't fully take her eyes off an enemy, but she knows there's a difference between the shouts of a fight and a terrified scream. Even when Steph breaks a man's arm, hearing the snap of bone, the scream from his mouth is still nothing like what Gio wrenched out of that hijacker.

There's too much blood, too many bodies, for her to see exactly what's going on. She just has to trust that Gionvanni is handling... whatever the fuck is going on, and deal with her own shit. She clocks the Handler out of the corner of her eye, too, but pays him little attention. It seems more important for her to stay focused.

She doesn't think too much, knowing that if she gets caught up in the how, she'll end up dead. A knife grazes her thigh, pain spiking briefly before something in her shuts it down, moves on, disarms the woman who stabbed her and turns the knife on her opponent.

Steph realizes at some point that she hasn't killed anyone. Hurt, sure, there's a couple broken bones, a dislocated shoulder, and a handful of nasty knife wounds left in her wake, but if the hijackers get medical attention soon enough, they'll live. Not that she thinks they will get that medical attention, but she files away the lack of killing moves, wondering what it means.

It's definitely a though for later though, even if she has a feeling there isn't much longer for this fight, not with the way Gio is moving through their enemies. All she has to do is keep doing what she's doing for a little longer.]

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