Oil and Tears

[Influenced Conscience]

The mornings began as simply as any other, with a loud, thunderous clap. For any common Sheer or Ier, this was a daily storm. However, for everyone else, it was their wake-up call.

When it came to Blaiters, it was the blaring noise that was drilled into their hardware. From birth, it was the exact audio response to activate consciousness. The response chip was built in discrete spots in each Blaiter, some hidden behind eyes, others inside teeth-shaped gears that range from the ankle to the inner chest. This brought horrid thoughts to their kind, What happens to the ones who lose their chips? Came to mind, Do we just go to sleep and never wake up? What does it feel like, who would do such a malicious action? This eluded most of them from The Ruins, due to the rumor that Stingers keep the chip as a trophy kill. Blaiters, second to Arzosses, were low in population compared to the others.

For Arzosses, they couldn't sleep. They weren't blessed with a knockout chip, only a mere charger with two ends: One for the neck, the other for the wall. Arzosses don't have rest, their sleepless agitation was based solely on how long they've been charging for. The blaring noise was the natural message for, "Stop charging now, you're good for another thirty-six hours."

As for Stingers, it was music to their ears. A morbid tune to let them know that the prey is coming out. As for the predator itself, they'll tend to hide in the supposed "safety" of The Ruins. Many early Stingers don't adjust to the new alarm, so they have to backtrack to pickup a daily kill. However, the ones that don't adjust will most likely wake up surrounded by... well... They'll be dead, to put it blankly.

B jerked his head up to the clap, turning his focus and ripping the cord from his neck. He ducked his head out of the worn-down shack he identified as a home, and walked steadily towards the shopkeeps. They held all the classics, gunsmiths, electrical engineers, doctors, foodstuffs, the works. B ran his fingers through his hair, combing it down to seem less static and crazy. He crammed his hands into his pockets and kept his gaze below parallel, with only one thought dancing in his mind. Out of them all, there must be someone here I can trust. Hopefully I can find someone or someones to locate her. Track her, and maybe get some information. The question is,


Who here can I trust?

 

[Okami]

Rilla may not have been fully machine but that didn't mean she didn't use the thunderous clap that awoke the men and women of metal to wake up herself.

The Ier opens her eyes and slowly sits up, she had gone to bed late the night before and would have preferred a few extra hours of sleep but her augmented brain, sensing daylight streaming through a window, drained away any melatonin in her system forcing her to wake up.

If the Blaiters did one thing right it would be their off switches... She thinks as she rolls the sleep mat she was laying on up and switches it out for Dove which was leaning against the wall in a corner. Rilla stretches, an action that didn't do much for her as she had no muscles to flex but was rather cathartic, and surveys the small one room flat she slept in. It was small, made of stained concrete, but rather clean of dust or dirt. That was thanks to the two young Sheers curled up on an old mattress by the opposite wall. Rilla was not fond of the idea of dirt getting into any of her joints and hindering her movements while she slept nor was she fond of the idea of visiting an expensive mechanic to fix her up. She ended up sweeping out her room every night before she fell asleep until one day she found a pair of children, less than 15, hiding there. She knew they were hiding from something or someone and didn't like the idea of kicking them out but also didn't want useless squatters so she simply handed them the broom and rag she kept in the house and said "clean." That was several months ago and the two sides hadn't exchanged words since. Rilla wasn't even sure if they could speak as she had never heard them.

Rilla puts Dove on her back, the unique magnets on either of them activating and attaching the large battle ax to her like an invisible sheathe and then walks outside. She wasn't sure what she would do today, there hadn't been any jobs at the local "tavern" that required an Ier with her capabilities lately and she was running low on food for herself (she didn't need much though, just a meal every few days) and the Sheers. She needed some income soon.

 

[Zarek]

Being a stinger was much like being a pirate, or at least, Nicolas thought so. He was free to make his own rules, he didn't live by any societies laws, and he took what he wanted. Blackbeard would be proud. The sheer had slept on the roof of what he assumed was an abandoned building, sleeping deeply after the climb up to where he was, the effort of scaling the side of the building having taken its toll. No one had seen him, or so he thought, and so he had slept for far longer than he would usually have done: being a stinger was not an occupation loved by the public, and if anyone found him asleep, he was sure he wouldn't wake up.

It was the blaring noise in the distant that woke him up, some distant siren that had roused him, even if he didn't quite realise it at first. After a few minutes of returning from the realm if sleep, he realised that it was the sound of mechs waking up. He rubbed his eyes with the ball of his palms, and reached out for the pack that lay next to him fumbling with it until he produced a canteen. He drunk deeply, and then untied the rifle from his pack, propping it on a brick to steady it. He looked through the scope perched on top, and the world leapt into view.

So far, nobody was moving. He supposed even robots had chores of some sort. He looked at the buildings around him, saw a silhouette through a window, and briefly considered firing a shot, before reasoning that it probably wouldn't be worth it. He couldn't guarantee, nor check, the kill. He looked around some more, vaguely aware that someone might see the glint of the sun on the scope, but seemingly not bothered.

 

[Influenced Conscience]

It took no time at all before the marketplaces were flooded with mistrustful customers. B held his head low, too much confidence in this alley could bring trouble. That's the biggest hazard to lookout for, that and well, dying. He brushed past a small-foods dealer and purchased a slice of dried beef, this made several suspicious gazes fade away. The more he disguised himself as a common Sheer, the less attention he'd draw. B slithered through the rest of herd, finally reaching the end of the alley into the desolate roadways. Supposing that the market was a river, the rest of the town was a dry desert. Sure, the buildings themselves were filled to the brim in survivors, but none of them were foolish enough to step out. If one felt a presence behind them, they knew what were to happen if they took a single step back.

Buried in his thoughts, B looked to the sky for conversation. The sun itself was suppressing quite the surreptitious surprise for the Arzoss. Out of the corner of his eye, was the glare of a rifle. A stinger, shit. B thought, twisting his body towards the direction of the market, letting his cognition for what was to unfold catch up with him. He shouted to the crowd, but his voice was a silent buzz in a deafening party. B inhaled a sharp breath, and slowly uncovered his handgun. Then, without a moment of hesitation, fired a bullet into the air.

Mass panic released, most of the population cried to make a symphony of chaos. Many trampled over one another to escape whatever threat came for them. Handgun in one hand, jerky in the other, he cuffed them both together and held them softly against his cheeks before shouting, "STINGER!" At the top of his lungs.

Did he know it was a Stinger? Hell no, was he going to take that chance? Hell yes.

 

[Okami]

"STINGER!"

A boy's voice yanks Rilla's mind and eyes away from a small food stand and towards where the sound came from. Boy was standing away from the crowd looking up at something.

Rilla wasn't one to fear death and wades past the panicking towns folk. She quickly makes her way to the boy and stands next to him, looking up, yes, there it was. The glint of a scope. She hazards a glance over her shoulder, people were beginning to enter buildings to hide but a fair bit of them still remained outside in the sight of this sniper. Whether this actually was a Stinger looking town on their pathetic town remained to be seen but Rilla doubted anyone watching them with a sniper rifle was simply looking for deals.

What should she do? Rilla had faced a Stinger before, she had been sent by a grieving mother to capture the thing that had killed her children so she could get her revenge. When Rilla caught the Stinger though and broke his limbs, he had managed to press the pad on his arm, killing himself. She had faced a Stinger, yes, but she really couldn't say that she killed one. Not to mention the Stinger she fought was a brawler and allowed her to have a close combat fight, Dove would never work against a long distance opponent.

"Do you have a plan or are you supposed to be an easy target for it?" She asks, looking down at the boy. Not moving while in the sights of a sniper wasn't a good idea, of course, she was standing still too. At least her skull was steel though, this boy appeared to be a Sheer and wouldn't survive a single shot.