Breaking and Entering

[Semtax]

Phil: She was chasing after nostalgia’s cologne. Death left its mark in splotches upon the ground to lead her, and Myra had become besotted with the smell of blood that had long since gone stale. As she followed, her surroundings gradually began a decline down into very withered territory. Rock and concrete worn by the test of time’s neglect were found in the deeper recesses of this place, a wound in the earth that she regarded with muted distaste. Sanctum. Their marks were something well known to her. Never mind the obviousness of these ruins being remains of an underground city, they were a forgotten battleground. Though Death’s scent was far fresher than these streets, these hollowed-out buildings, and crumbling relics, the presence of an end long since passed followed her into the depths like a shadow. And it stretched. The shadow stretched till twilight could not reach her beyond the horizon of the crater.

Therein night came early for the dullahan, glamour receding into the spectral visage of a woman whose skin defied the cling of dark. She glowed quite literally. Like a paper lantern, the fae’s silhouette could be observed following the trail that had been left for her through the dark. Though pacing was slow, there seemed a confidence to the way in which she continued, as though she’d walked this way before. At her leisure she made her way to the source. A manor, possessing subtle accents of recent renovations, stood in the way of the hunt. For most, this was the end of the line. For Myra, it was a reason to press on. Curious, this house was. Someone lived here? Someone died here. Such was the driving force that persuaded her to find a way in-- which, for her, was a simple feat. Upon initial inspection of evidence, she went ahead and took the entrance most recently worn. Modern locks impeded her. Odd. Yet, beyond the door she felt a pang of energy that was electrical in nature. Did the lights work in this place, still? Most buildings had appeared to be in sad disrepair, but this was not the case for her current scenery. The musk of the place wasn’t thick enough for somewhere devoid of residence.

The gears clicked with well-greased efficiency as she continued to put together the details as she passed. The scent was fresh, but unlike a pool of blood. Truth be told, the trail of red had long since dried up after she’d entered the place. All she was going on was that cologne, that smell of a corpse which lured her similarly to a vulture. Not a victim. No, this was the smell of someone who’d eased into death. It had been a longsuffering demise. Long enough to let them rot way before their last breath. Even so, there was a difficulty in navigating the place that felt oddly amusing to the woman. Which way? There were many facets lying within the confines of this manor, and it was a labyrinthine layout that steadily ventured downward. The Minotaur’s dungeon was so sprawling that, if not for keeping tabs on whence she came and where she went, even Myra would have risked getting lost to the point of distress. Instead, she relished this puzzle. It was a fortification she’d not had the pleasure of deciphering. Something simple, yet effective at keeping rogues at bay. Simple, effective, and innately human….

She was uncertain of how long she’d spent routing the place. A vague map of the area had started to form at this point, and Myra was gradually gaining affirmation that she was getting close. Death overpowered the residual must of the halls. She could hear very faint sounds, like the stirring of a mouse in the walls. Without even recognizing it she began to quicken her pace, though her silence in step remained. Closer, she could practically taste it. A door in her direct path, that’s all that was left. She knew it. But, was it just as all the other doors prior to it? Would it be just as easily opened?

Yes.

There wasn’t any sort of substantial locking mechanism. Most of what she’d encountered here had been run-of-the-mill, even if considerably advanced for a residence that’d gone a while without occupation. How sad that the layout was the only thing tricksey about the place. No matter, though. The importance was in finding what lay beyond. And, as she made her way inside this last room, the sheer pungency of perfume was enough to tell her that she’d arrived. What she found, though, was not at all her expectation.

Semtax: The man in the mask was hard at work, building and making and tinkering and experimenting. The laboratory room was alight with sparks and flashes of light as he went about his business. The project was an impossible one: Create natural, sustainable life in a mechanical form. Artificial Intelligence was just the tip of the ice burg in this case, and Monopoly was manic and gleeful as he assembled the pieces together. He had used the Human skeletal and organ system as a baseline but made corrections and adjustments where necessary. Double-hinged joints in all locations, altering the structure and positioning of certain bones to make them less prone to breakage. Braiding the tibia and fibula together, for example. These improvements and more made up the mechanical Frankenstein which slumbered beneath his hands.

As he worked, the alarm system went off. An unexpected visitor. The project, as captivating as it was, would not be enough to let him forgo his favorite pastime: watching the ignorant intruders die violently at the hands of his security measures. He observed the feed and found that the creature was largely obscured – his cameras couldn’t quite pick it up. This puzzled him but did not worry him. They’d made it through the first door…The second….That was surprising, but surely no more than that?

Actually, no. The third, and fourth doors fell like a house of cards, and the creature crossed the hall to the door which he himself lay behind….This was the last line of defense and all others before it had fallen as if made of paper. This was alarming but intriguing. Whatever rogue was so skillful as to disable his systems as if they were not even present would be someone he might consider employing. And so he placed a sheet over the body of his project as the door did indeed hiss open and the female Dullahan would enter.

A fucking fairy. Of course. This explained everything. The expression on the mechanical man’s face was a mixture of resentment, admiration, and curiosity. He despised the glitter-toting pests more than any other player on the board, though admittedly this one looked more Unseelie than Seelie…That was preferable. Least these ones were capable of being rational. He decided to go with cordiality – he didn’t need a fight breaking out in the room where his prized possession did slumber.

“Y’know, normally I’d comment that it’s rather rude not to knock before jus barging in unannounced, but honestly I’ve never known anyone who actually got in without losing life n’ limb…So I’ll give ya a pass. What can I do fer ya, miss? Does the gray lady have a name?”

Phil: The expression on his face would be mirrored by that of the Fae. One could surmise that she was equally surprised, though leaning heavier on the brink of curiosity than he was. Her body language spoke volumes to her having questions. The way she leaned in from the archway of the door to peer in, how her eyes languidly traced his silhouette, the glance that gradually veered towards the corpse modestly covered by a sheet— She wanted to know the meaning of this. She had arrived thinking that she would find death. And yet, death was not here. His cologne prevailed, she could smell him throughout this house. She could smell him in this very room… But, death was not present in any ulterior form.

A long pause would accent the silence. She was initially unsure how to answer him, what to even say. To commune with the dead and to commune with the living were separate affairs, both of which took their own brands of finesse. In this instance, she hadn’t finesse to be spared. Her manner was illusive, skirting his questions and instead slinking into the room with hushed steps. She was wary, it’d seem. Just as he likely was. Two spiders convened at the center of a web, and neither knew the other’s intent.

Even so, she was bold.

To temper the intrusion of coming closer, the Dullahan humored him with an answer. A twinge of Irish sing-song followed along with the rasp of the Fae’s voice, “Myra” killing the quiet betwixt the two. But, rather than continue in the direction of answering inquiry, the Unseelie once more became evasive. On the up-side, the semblance of conversation still survived. A sliver of fuchsia peeked from the curtain of sideswept bangs, and her piercing, duo-toned stare held strong in lieu of her next line. “Jason…” she stated rather matter-of-factly, and all of a sudden her cold disposition softened.

The tension in her stance eased. She found the two of them now on more equal footing thanks to their names being out in the open. Still, he’d be waiting a long while if he hoped to get any longwinded explanation out of her. For now, she was pooling her energy into looking him over and appraising this odd man of which walked, and talked, but hadn’t the slightest scent of life. Tall… Though she herself was towering compared to the average, he outmatched her. For once she had to look up to meet face-to-face. Not only this, but he had his fair share of battle scars. More unfortunate than she’d been, it appeared. The Fae never did hold scars as well as the rest, even if her marring of the throat and slash over the eye was substantial. It felt oddly satisfying to not be the most intimidating person in the room.

Perhaps such was further cause for the Dullahan making attempts at civility. He seemed capable, and it highlighted her wariness even if she didn’t necessarily feel as knotted in the muscles as she’d been prior. “Nothing to be done…came for something, but it isn’t here.” She cryptically explained, those lantern-like eyes falling away to the sheet she’d noticed from the doorway. It was unwise to touch things when in the web of another, but, again, she was bold. She understood his protective body language. Sadly, it hadn’t been enough to impede her. The Unseelie purposely moved to hover over the corpse he was hiding. She did not uncover it, but she was interested in running her fingers over the surface of the sheet, gingerly feeling the silhouette of the body underneath.

“Looking for death, but haven’t found him. Neither have you. It’s an unfortunate cat and mouse game…”

Semtax: Luck was a flighty mistress who dealt in duplicity and double-negatives, things which both did and did not benefit the endgame. On the one hand, Myra was a well-known sort. She had talents which he could make use of. On the other, she was a Dullahan, and a powerful one…A sort he really did not need to be on opposite sides of a disagreement with. He took careful steps towards her as she idly inspected the sheet-covered body. She was talking nonsense about looking for Death. She’d come for a reaping? Perhaps Mousetrap seemed dead to her. He couldn’t be sure. The ideas flowed through him at light speed all at once and focusing became difficult.

As thoughts raced and he continued to delicately make his way over to her, he deftly slipped a hand to snatch something off the shelf as he passed by – A snub nose revolver with six bullets of various alloys meant to deal with undesirables in times of urgent need and unexpected company. He flicked the chamber to the golden bullet noiselessly and let the gun sit in a pocket of his coat while his hand lay nearby enough to quick draw at a moment’s notice. He answered her nonsense now.

“No dead here, Myra. Though I do say yer awful far from home, comin round here. Upper East Side ain’t exactly local to these parts. If yer lookin for death of your own I can assist if you’re serious, though for your sort I’d wager ye’ve got more creative means of offin yerself than death by random mad scientist. So if ye’ve got business here, state it. Otherwise I’ll kindly ask that ye see yerself out. Yer clever. Could find yer way without much trouble. If ye get….Lost, I can’t exactly promise it’ll end pretty for ya, though. So I’d sugges gettin along before the hallways change again.”

His fingers airily fingered the butt of the weapon set in the pocket of his lab coat. He wasn’t exactly keen on a firefight and at the moment he only had one shot and needed to make it count. Thankfully, most of her tricks would be largely useless on his sort. No blood to bend, no body to destroy. More machine than man. That said he still loathed the idea of discharging his weapon in the lab, especially with the sensitive nature of his current project. The tension in the room was palpable as his luminous eyes and half-metal visage stared down the scarred woman.

Phil: “You don’t play cat and mouse with a destination, Jason,” she began, her brogue coming out better now that her sentences were starting to get stretched out. “Won’t attempt futile explanation. The dead know, and they keep their secrets. Business… Seems you know of my business. Well known, am I?” The Dullahan lifted her head to level her gaze with his, but it was short lived. A flicker of silver and fuchsia swept the side of his coat, denoting the pocketed hand and slightly laxed, though still deliberate way in which he moved. Confident, yet… nerves plagued him. Uncertain and unwilling. She weighed what he said without his words, and it further added to the tension that loomed over the room like cigarette smoke. She offered him much different body language in an attempt to diffuse any sort of escalation, turning not just her head but her body towards him, movement slow for the sake of being easily read. Therein he’d very plainly see her reach to take the sheet in her grasp, tugging it off the form lurking underneath. But, since she was facing him now she still only had her assumptions of what the thing underneath was. Again, she languidly moved, taking the cloth in both hands and drawing it to her face, taking a sniff.

Nothing worthy of note. No scent residue that was organic was on it, so, due in part to the nature of him and this little lab of his, she could only guess to it being something made of an artificial material. “No doubt, then.” The Fae gave him an almost accusatory look as she said this, the sheet slipping out of her hands and to the floor about her feet. Still, there was nothing to indicate that she was planning on starting anything. Now empty, her hands went back to hanging at either side of her, stance open and loose as accusation morphed instead into contemplation. Past this point Monopoly would be able to tell that she didn’t plan to leave as promptly as he wished she would, conversation coming without much inhibition.

“You’ve a purpose here, I take it? To what end, I wonder… There is no dead here, but all I can smell is… rot.” Myra had the audacity to now take steps towards him, in kind, poised and nigh timid in her approach as the two spiders brushed legs, in a sense. All the while, she kept herself open and unimposing, save for a very intense stare that seemed hell bent on contending with his own. “And… gold. I am well aware of what might be in your coat, Tinman. Let us hope you are not very hasty… Unless, you can put a price on my blood?”

“As for me… I care little about the trivials of personal affairs. Merely curious. Merely wondering. Dead men walking are not often happened across.”

Semtax: The Dullahan was infuriating. The way she spoke was so sing-songy, so fairytale. It agitated everything about the logical mind of the machine behind the man. His gears whirled and turned as she revealed that she was already aware of his safety measures. That was…Interesting. So what did she want? She was an odd creature and she seemed both curious and decidedly disinterested at once. He couldn’t quite be sure what to make of it all. The curtain fell. Record scratch.

Eyes anxiously glanced over at the body beneath the sheet that she’d tugged away and there was a flash of red in his optical gaze. The project was sensitive and both Monopoly and Gasmask were aware of this, though rarely did they agree on anything. Focus back on the interloper, he thought. Eyes forward.

“Yeh’ve got a funny way of talkin a lot yet sayin nothing at all, Horseman. S’quite an intriguing practice if an annoying one. I wonder, what does doin things dis way afford ya? Yeh haven’t the need to stall fer time…Unless yeh plan on bringing additional company down on meh head. Though I think that if yeh planned fer that, they’d have got here already. Too much time. Too many chances I’d jus kill ye already. As fer yer business, I do know a thing or two. S’my business to know things, otherwise I can’t do business at all. As for my purpose….I’s makin somethin quite special….And since ye’ve made it clear yeh intend to stay…Mayhaps ye’d like to see it? S’not as if I’ve anyone to show him to…Ol Big Bad don’t care for this sort, nor Red either. S’really somethin special. Just promise not to touch, yes?”

He was suddenly eager, like a child wishing to show their parents a new toy or a good school grade, or something they learned from a friend. Monopoly wasn’t a social creature to begin with, and the solitary living that came with being an apostate of Sanctum was very difficult indeed. That’s in part what this was all about…Though he’d never admit to being lonesome or needing another person. He didn’t need anybody. That’s how he functioned.

Phil: “To live the breadth of a millennia is to understand...”

Yet again he’d get something cryptic in response. Although, she did recognize the fact that she was making it hard to follow. Such was the curse. Her kind were always good at saying nothing at all, even if they did speak. But, since she was a Dullahan that no longer took the vow, it seemed more a lack of practice. Perhaps it would be better to lay things out on the table? Then again, would it make much difference? She wasn’t sure. If not for his response turning the tide, Myra likely would have continued to greet his questions with answerless responses. To his benefit, though, he seemed quite enthusiastic. This perked her interest in such a way that the miasma of tension began to thin. In tandem, it loosened her lips enough to provide him with her reasons.

“I’m here because you lured me, and I stay out of curiosity. Jaded as I am…” she shifted, angling herself so as to glance behind and finally have a look at what’d been hiding under the sheet, “I find this new. Intriguing.

Therein the Fae’s gaze would only momentarily flicker back towards him, gauging his posture and reaction. She went to move, and she hoped that he would follow along. After all, he’d given her permission. So, she hadn’t any qualms with turning her back on him, nearing the edge of the table where the artificial corpse currently lay. From here she would carefully move to loom over and inspect it more closely, hands tucked behind her back and out of reach of his prized project.

“Composition… artificial. Still in construction phase, non-functional. Material is of high grade. Built for strength. Stability…. Purpose? Level extends past current robot standards. Pseudo-body, perhaps? Or, meant to be operational as a stand-alone? Not previously feasible… Curious.” She seemed prevy to mutter to herself, scrutinizing it before he’d even get a chance to go into the intricacies of the piece. But, in a voice louder and clear enough for him to discern, she posed her first serious question about it.

“Only a body, or also a brain?”

Semtax: She would see the body opened up as if for autopsy, yet functional. He was held in place by restraints, eyes closed. Hairless, features pale. His inner workings were very similar to that of a Human body, however different traits had been altered. Monopoly saw the genuine curiosity on the face of the Dullahan, even if her mannerisms were shallow and moot. His speaking was becoming more animated now and more rapid. Less pauses, sentences without breaks.

“Like a Human but better, see? Got all the bits in there but stronger materials in the makins. Bones is reinforced alloy, the bones that previously had a gap in em are now braided metal coils for reinforcement. Harder to break or even bend. Ribcage has two layers two it that sit in a lattice for ensured protection of the heart….The mind…That’s the tricky bit. That’s the bit I’s gotta do next.”

He ran over to grab something from another area and brought it back, holding it gingerly as if it were made of air and would fall away at the slightest sneeze. He set it on the cart nearby their location and placed a hand on the Dullahan’s shoulder as he afforded her attention.

“Lookit here….Synapses, a brain’s freeway system, as it was…But what if the brain was built around the freeway, not the otha way around? What if the freeway created the city instead?”

He tapped a few buttons to bring up a comparison. One was a human brain, synapses animatedly cycling through the grooves in the gray matter. The other, however…Was like a never ending explosion of light and color and sound, and slowly but surely something that looked similar to a brain was forming….

“His function creates his consciousness. I feed em information about the world, people, places…Even gave him a bit o’ my own DNA as a startin point. He’s got every opportunity to grow…Cuz this little thing doesn’t have storage limits like what humans do. He keeps learnin and growin and knowin and never stops. He’s like a sponge.”

He was so proud of his creation. A brain that was not confined to physical limitation. A collection of synapses connecting to a functional mechanical interface that could freely move as they please without the inhibition of the pre-wrought paths.

He walked over to the skull of the creature and popped open the top, gingerly lowering the device into the skull and letting it settle into the housing. Sparks began to fly in an artful display within the cranial gap of the android and Monopoly sealed it so the process could begin. The eyes snapped open and there was a sound like discomfort, a groan, a surprisingly human yet still artificial groan, before a voice said to no one in particular.

“That was decidedly unpleasant. Can we not do it again?”

Phil: For once, she didn’t know what to feel. The prerequisites that usually cycled no longer applied, a long lost set of emotions flaring in her at his touch. Though she wore a suit that covered her from the collar down, just his hand on her shoulder was enough to feel the sudden rush of… fear. It chilled her spine to come in contact with this feeling, and all at once the tension was back again. The viscous sensation of panic pooled in her lungs and took her breath away for a moment, leaving a considerable pause for him to fill before the Dullahan would draw in something akin to a quiet gasp.

She did not like this man…

It was funny. Though she had interest in his project, Myra had now suddenly become far more invested in the mad scientist that was behind it all. There was a sense of dread that clung to him like cheap cologne. She loathed the sensation of it, but all the same—it took something legitimately dangerous to solicit this fear of hers. And, why had she not sensed it sooner? Why wait till he had her in his literal grasp?

It was supposed that such questions had come too late. All that was afforded her was the will to continue to keep her body from freezing up, the split second of rigidness that had overcome her melting away into the laxness of before. Still, beyond this she was unable to feign composure, visibly intimidated by him as well as the screen that now flashed with the evidence of a brain lacking confinement. So then… the autopsied corpse was this far along in its development?

She was lucky to have him be so enamored with his own creation that he paid little heed to her, the man returning to his machine without much of a second thought. This gave her a chance to collect herself, expression going numb save for wide eyes. Yet, with how she followed him back to the android’s bedside for inspection, such shocked staring would have appeared to be centered solely on the machine.

“Necromancer…”

The song to her voice had subsided. Though it had been more so under her breath, the word still hung in the air around her, only to be disturbed by the click of the skull and subsequent groan that was to follow. To this her hands would wander, gripping the edge of the table as though to steady herself. It was alive, truly. It even spoke! But, unlike being brought back from the dead, it was instead something inanimate brought to life. So then, Frankenstein? Was that the proper name for this man? She couldn’t settle on which fit him best.

Facades were beginning to wane. Myra’s nails scraped the table as she backed away, hesitation in her body language as she put distance between the newly resurrected… thing, and herself.

"This is... beyond me," she finally admitted, her entire body language screaming of a sudden wariness.

Semtax: The Android sat up and took a look down at his own trappings. He gave a sort of once-over with his fingers, inspecting both internal and external functionality before shifting to stand up and nodding with a finality.

“The design….Impressive. It exceeds the expectations of this era by an unprecedented margin. You have done well, Sir.”

The being commented on his own design as if he were a third party sizing up a piece of art or a product for sale. Detached yet impressed, interested in himself in an odd way. He then noted the lack of proper garment covering his form and his eyes met the creator’s with a moment of clarity.

“I would hope you have something I can wear nearby. My workings are not for the eyes of the casual observer.”

Monopoly was taken aback by the clarity of thought that this bastard possessed after only a few moments. Caught up in his own work he took a little longer than normal to connect with what he was being told and asked. He realized the request for clothing had been made and nodded emphatically. How could he have forgotten? He’d had this made custom to suit the measurements of his new associate. He quickly went and fetched the suit, pants, shoes, watch and cufflinks, along with tie and undershirt all neatly folded. He handed them to the Android and waited.

“But o’course! Had these sorted for ya before I’d even fully got all the details sorted…Premature I s’pose but can ye blame me?”

The Metal man quickly dressed, adjusting the suit and tie to his liking, tying the shoes so fast his fingers looked to be a blur, and was quickly dressed to kill in full splendor and formality as only the budget of one of the biggest names in the Criminal Underworld could afford. He gave a look at himself in the monitors which recorded the activities taking place in the building and nodded. He approved as well.

“Your tastes are impeccable, Sir.”

The Metal man then turned and looked to the flaxen haired woman who stood in a state of panic and tension as she observed the scene before her. He was unsure as to why she was confused and so he searched the chasm of his own memory-banks as well as the internet for anything to help him understand. He quickly understood *what* she was. Which explained her discomfort. Then he understood as the surveillance footage replayed the moment where his maker had touched her shoulder. The combination of elements clicked together. He took a few steps forward with trepidation and slightly uneasy feet.

“Bipedal motivation….Interesting. Efficient yet delicate….”

His voice trailed away before he returned to his focus on the woman. His tone became one of a more compassionate and empathetic nature, an odd thing to experience from a machine, particularly because he genuinely felt the things he was expressing on some level.

“Miss, please do not be alarmed…I have no directives associated with violence at this time and while the Maker means well he did not…Think through his decisions. The touch to your shoulder is eliciting a response that you otherwise would not experience….You could say he has a certain…effect on people. So please…Take a deep breath, perhaps we can relocate to the drawing room and sit down. I think that would be beneficial to your health.”

He paused and made steps towards the exit door before glancing over his shoulder to see if the others were coming. He winked at the Dullahan before adding with a very odd smile to his artificial features.

“That was a joke, Horseman. Levity is appropriate in settings of discomfort.”

The humor was certainly not lost on Monopoly, who cackled with amusement and excitement as he shed his lab coat into just a simple pair of suit pants, a shirt and vest. He looked professional in that Noir mobster sort of way, though his features looked like something out of a space-age horror film. He followed his creation out the door, simply assuming the Dullahan would be as interested in following as he was.

Phil: She was further taken aback by the almost immediate response time of the machine, little pause between initial life and full-functioning train of thought. It was much, much different from what she was accustomed to, even if she did have more of an idea the potential of modern technology. As the android had put it, this invention exceeded the era. What’s worse, its sense of awareness gave it the illusion of sentience. Or… was it sentient? At this point in time, it was hard to say. If it was, then she’d certainly have a strong inclination to be anxious. After all, sentience would mean a stand-alone functionality on par with fellow humanoids, only exponentially expounded by its means of information retention. Physically, it was like molding a man out of armor and faux skin. A tank that could think…

Though she couldn’t take her eyes off of him, it could be gathered that Myra wasn’t necessarily focusing on the android. In fact, her stare was lengthy, as though she were looking at something straight through the machine and all the way on the other side of the wall. Lost to thoughts and tongue caught between her teeth, she fell silent up until he’d dressed. Only when his gaze met her did she recoil from her musings. Instead, she’d be recoiling from him, his initial step forward coercing the Fae to back up, in kind. And, though he seemed to mean well in terms of diffusing her nerves, his explanation only seemed to prickle her skin even more.

Ivory brows furrowed in a mixture of concern and confusion. How did he know about the touch? Her reaction? He’d already assimilated information regarding what had transpired prior to his waking, as well as seemed to have a semblance of what he was dealing with. He’d likely be able to see it, even—her face drained of the traces of emotion that appeared there before, as though it dawned on her that she was being carefully watched, and did not want to offer a window for scrutiny. Even still, this had not appeared to completely detach her from innate curiosity. He was… no, they both were appealing in terms of the rush that came with finding something new and compelling.

So, albeit doing so in silence, she opted to follow. Her preservation instincts had her stomach knotted, but the Dullahan fell behind Monopoly and permitted him and his creation to take the lead. Meanwhile, she was content to fill the gap of conversation and quiet with more of her inner monologue, sizing up the two that were in front of her and gauging just how severe the situation was. She did not like the machine. She did not like its maker. For now, the only thing holding her at the position of willingness to comply was caution and her intrigue, and beyond sating this curiosity she was waiting for them to offer a reason for why she should stay, or for why she should go.