nexus_crossings | Ghosts in the Machine

Ghosts in the Machine

There’s a young woman reading through one of the pamphlets in the plaza. She’s dressed head to toe in a rather odd black garment like a padded wetsuit - it looks like it’s all one piece, soft, elastic and form-fitting. Her hair’s a little disheveled and she has a frown of concentration as she reads, but her location doesn’t seem to worry her.

As far as she’s concerned, it’s obvious where she is. The last few weeks have been nothing but tests and interviews and assessment exercises of one form or another. More than a few have taken place using increasingly sophisticated simulation tech. This is just another program, and presumably somewhere above is the AI overseeing her progress.

Still, this is definitely a new one.

“Who comes up with these scenarios?” she wonders aloud in amusement. Then shoots a look at the tiny silver robot floating at a cautious distance. “No offense meant- and that wasn’t my question, sorry.” The Ghost bobs noncommittally, and she looks around, taking in the strange mix of people and aliens, the unrealistic architecture. “So does it matter what I ask?” The answer is murmured quietly, but presumably boils down to ‘no’. She rolls her shoulders and shifts on her feet, making thoughtful sounds for a minute. She really wants to ask something good. Insightful. Practical. Soldierly.

“Is there something around here you really need weapons for?” She had two when she started here - not to mention the ridiculous armor. The assisting ‘Ghost’ AI removed them for her, but that still leaves the question of why this simulation included them...

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"I'm sure you will be. Ghost comes here pretty often and he and I are good friends."

Steve smiles up at the little bot, proud to be saying so of Bryn's companion. He considers both ghost and Blaze as his friends after all. He needn't mention the patrols they're usually doing, or the frequenting of bars usually reserved for non-humans or mechanicals.

"The last movie I ever saw was the Wizard of Oz, I can definitely see the....similar...ities.." Ghost may be surprised when Steve stops in his tracks, narrowed eyes watching this move to an alleyway. His jaw ticks as he clenches his teeth. Steve Rogers is from a poor neighborhood in Brooklyn. He knows trouble when he sees it. But rather than grab Bryn or even Ghost, Steve hangs back and allows Bryn to keep talking while he circles back to peer into the alley, just to check and see what's going on.

Were they so close to the industrial district that the field was weak? Steve hopes not, but he's going to check in on this, just in case.

Ghost starts, his optic widening a little as he turns to look at Steve. His shell spins once, twice, before he says quietly, "Thank you, Steve."

It's good to be reminded that he's not alone. That it's not just him and, well, a memory in need of guarding.

"Now that's a great comparison. It's the way everything's so jumbled together, I think..." Bryn is too busy talking and walking to notice Steve dropping back. Ghost's gaze darts after him though, the little bot hesitating before he returns his attention to Bryn. After all, he trusts Steve not to do anything foolhardy around here...

Neither of them has a clue to what Steve is observing. Perhaps the field is weaker here, weak enough for unscrupulous people to find ways around it. The pale fellow here, with the ridged face? He speaks in low and meaningful tones to the guy they just escorted off the main street. The latter's shoulders slump; within a few moments he sucks in a breath and nods.

This is the cue for the tusked guy to knock him off his feet with a blow to the gut. The pale one leans against the alley wall to watch.

It's coercion. Pure and simple.

Steve knows enough to see that. Whatever threats the larger man had made, agreeing to physical violence was preferable. Steve doesn't know how they've managed to get around the field, but that detail suddenly doesn't seem to matter very much. What he does know is that this man doesn't stand much of a chance and they don't seem inclined to give him one.

Bony fingers ball into fists. Steve sucks in a breath, looking around for any kind of weapon. He settles on a plastic bag, the only bit of litter he can reach. He twists it into a makeshift cord and wastes no time sprinting into the alley as fast as his knobbly knees will carry him. He leaps up onto the back of the attacker, bringing the bag around the thug's neck and leaning back, using all ninety pounds of his body weight to try and haul the guy off of the humanoid he'd been attacking.

"Leave him alone!" He's smaller even than the victim here, but that doesn't seem to deter Steve any as he clings on like a cowboy at the rodeo. "Pick on someone your own size!"

It's the last thing anyone in that alley expects: some tiny guy flying into the fray with over-sized coat a-flutter and going straight for the biggest throat on offer. Steve has audacity and shock in his favor, at least for the first minute. The thug he goes for had been bending to kick his prone target a few times; he staggers to one side, leaning back and grabbing at the bag throttling him.

The guy they were attacking may have been resigned to going limp and taking it, but when the thug starts staggering and stamping around blindly, he rolls over and scrambles out of range. The thug's partner doesn't seem to care about him any more. He's cursing in outraged disbelief at this interference.

"Kargash, you motherless idiot! Throw him off!"

Whether obeying or not, Steve's opponent reaches back to grab his arms, aiming to throw the smaller man over his head with a cry that's more sputter than bellow.

And meanwhile, further up the main street? Bryn looks around in growing surprise and alarms the Ghost by asking "Wait, where'd Steve go?"

"He's- oh. But- he was right behind us just a minute ago..."

It's a lot easier to throw the assailant than the big lug Kargash may suspect; Steve goes literally flying back out the alleyway, landing shoulder first and rolling across the pavement. He literally skips after the first bounce. There's already blood from a hefty dose of road rash Steve's got on his cheek and the palms of both hands.

Really, he's lucky he hasn't broken anything with how hard he landed. He's up on his feet as soon as he can pull himself up despite the wheezing protest of his lungs.

"That all you've got?" Bringing up both bloody fists in front of himself again. "I can do this all day, punk." Later, much later-- Steve will feel guilty about the thrill that courses through him as adrenaline floods his system. The satisfying sting of the scrapes on his hands. The sound of his shoes slapping against the pavement as he sprints right back in there and ducks under the the larger creature to sock the thug's partner square between his eyes.

The Nexus is a safe place, if not strange, most of the time. But Steve's finding himself almsot glad that it isn't completely, right in this moment. Even as a fist knocks the wind out form him bodily and sends him back down to the ground. This is where he belongs, and he'll feel guilty later. Right now there's too much at stake.

The mouthpiece of this little outfit isn't helping his own defense. No, he's stopped to laugh at the tiny man getting bounced out onto the street. It's an unkind laugh, the sort you really have to practice to hit the right menacing notes. Totally ruined when Steve bypasses Kargash and plants a fist in his face.

He staggers for a moment, as much from outraged pride as stunned pain. It's left to Kargash to quit rubbing his throat and redeem himself by knocking down their new assailant. The former victim's backed down the alley nervously, clinging to the wall as he watches unhappily. He doesn't dare interfere, is afraid of the consequences if he bugs out before being 'dismissed'.

Still, the thugs are plenty distracted right now. Kargash's friend pushes him aside to get a savage kick in at the runt while he's down. He's swearing all the while, broken only by bursts of invective. "You dumb little fucker! Trying to play hero on our territory? Are you fucking kidding me? You have no fucking idea who you're playing with!"

The same could be said of him, though. Doubly so because Steve being flung into the street and hurling himself back in amid battle cries, well, that's the kind of commotion that's easy for a pair of searching friends to pick up on. Hell, some guy's already trying to sell bad sausage buns to the rubbernecking tourists. Steve only has to hold them off for another minute before reinforcement comes sprinting his way.

"It's not playing anything, and it's not....being a hero."

Steve spits at the shorter man kicking him, trying to urge his protesting limbs to move. The kicks send the air rushing from his lungs and he has to cough. Blood is dripping onto the ground. It would be so easy to just lay here and let them get this out of their system. He hurts.

Blue eyes waver across the alleyway and despite swaying land on the frightened man who is still there. The noise of the alley seems to fade to a soft buzz of white noise as his eyes focus. His hands flatten against the pavement. He stumbles with another kick, but he gets back on his feet.

"I'm not afraid of you." Someone has to be strong for those who can't. Someone has to stand up for those who won't. "Get out of here. It's the only chance I'm giving you to give up." They might think it's funny coming from the ninety pound waif who's bleeding and bruising all over already. Steve doesn't care, mind already working through how he's going to lead them away so the man they'd been harassing can leave freely.

"L-look," their victim tries to interject, while the ringleader puts a boot in for that spit. "He's already... uh.." It's hard to claim Steve's done when he's pushing himself to his feet, determined to ignore the pain they're inflicting. The thugs' expressions harden. Steve can be sure of one thing: he's not going to lose their attention until they feel he's learned his lesson.

The bigger one snorts in disbelief while his friend laughs. It's an unpleasant laugh: he probably had to practice it. "Us give up? You're just determined to get that face beaten in, aren't you runt?"

Apparently he's satisfied himself though - or gotten a sore foot. He waves for Kargash to carry on with the beating, turning away to have the last word with their cowering 'client'. These two are really bad at watching their back.

"Hey! Back off!" The angry shout rings out from the alley entrance as Kargash moves in. He turns in time to get a fist in the jaw as Bryn charges in to join the fray. She's not a practiced fighter, but she's not small or lightly-boned either and there's real force behind it. Ghost's floating behind cautiously, trying to skirt the fight and get close enough to scan Steve.

There's a smile Steve gets when Bryn's yell echoes through the alleyway. He hadn't been counting on her help, and he might have even gotten upset at someone helping out if it were just his safety on the line. But there's someone else to consider, and Steve isn't about to put his own pride over the safety of an innocent.

He does look dangerous though, for that split second. While Bryn tackles the big lug Kargash, Steve takes off as fast as his feet will carry him. He grabbs a trash can lid and brings it up over his head before swinging it down with all his might, knocking the guy in the back of the head (or the side, if he's turned) as hard as he can.

"Wrong answer!" Steve growls, already winding up for a followup swing.

Edited 2016-09-07 00:22 (UTC)

The unnamed thug is swearing under his breath, swinging around to see who else has invited herself to the party, when Steve brings the edge of his makeshift weapon down on his skull.

He stumbles to one side, flailing an arm at Steve to try and ward off that following blow. Unfortunately for him, size can't wholly make up for the element of surprise and a direct blow to the head. "Fuck! Karg- Kargash!"

His buddy's having better luck for the moment. Bryn got in a good hit, but when the big guy steadies himself and takes a swing at her instead of backing down, she realizes abruptly that she... didn't really plan this out. It takes a blow from Kargash to spur her back into hitting him, with more anger and determination than actual aim.

All the same it bloodies his nose, and it's enough. Kargash has been choked, punched and insulted way too much for a simple job like this should have been. His partner's reeling from some tiny punk's lucky shot and this is just not worth it. He shoves Bryn off her feet, then pounds over to knock Steve away from his pal. "Enough! Come on, this ain't worth the hassle!"

The trash can lid clatters to the ground as Steve is forced to let go, all of the air rushing out of his lungs from the solid blow to the midsection. He stumbles back and lands firmly on his backside while Kargash is busy grabbing up his companion before the floating robot next to the lady starts shooting lasers out of its optic or something else equally unbelievable.

Nope. These thugs are noping out of here before anything else goes south. At least, if the big guy has any say about this.

Steve, meanwhile, is left gasping for air in little wheezes. Shaking arms trying to push him to his feet but he ends up falling back down on his butt instead. He can't even make a smartass comment about the thugs. Breathing is difficult enough for him right now.

Bryn's a little stunned and confused by how fast everything's unfolded, wincing when Ghost darts close and sweeps a bright blue light over her face. She's only bruised and startled though. When she realizes that wheezing is Steve and Ghost's hovering over him, she's swiftly scrambling to her feet and hurrying over. The smile that's been tugging at her mouth for a couple of minutes vanishes in an instant.

Ghost has meanwhile scanned Steve, spinning anxiously. "Take it easy, Steve. You don't have to go anywhere, they're gone. You've already driven them off."

"...What is it?" Bryn squats down in front of him, eyes wide as she looks between Steve and Ghost. She's never seen anyone struggle to breathe like this and distress is written all over her face. Distress, edged with a strong dose of anger, because her first assumption is injury. "What did they do to him? Shouldn't we get a doctor?"

"I think it's asthma. He might just need a minute," Ghost tries to reassure her... while looking at Steve hopefully for confirmation. Unseen by the humans, he's running a local search for doctors, unsure whether Bryn can call on their friendly Angel to help. He wouldn't forgive himself if Steve suffered from his inexperience with treating human ailments.

"...Fine. M'fine."

It's a croak more than a real answer but Steve manages to get the word out as he fights to fill his lungs. It's still a rather uncomfortable minute for all of them before he gasps and slumps forward taking in huge shaking breaths.

"Got th'wind knocked out of me. That's all." He's also got several bruises, and those scrapes from before are still getting him all bloody. But hey--nothing's broken! He'll live to fight another day. His gaze slides from Ghost to Bryn and Steve makes a small guilty smile. "I...I had 'em on the ropes. but, thanks for jumping in there."

Bryn puts a hand on his shoulder, purely from the instinct to help rather than any idea of how to do so. Does this really happen to Steve all the time? Relief washes over her when he finally starts to get his breath. It really does pass, thank the Light. She lets out a long exhale of her own and shifts her weight back, her worried look breaking into a bright grin at Steve.

"I had to! We saw you get thrown out of the alley and run right back." She shakes her head in wonder. She has a couple of visible bruises, courtesy of Kargash, but nothing to match Steve's marks of honor. She lets out a stunned laugh. "That was crazy. I can't believe you just tore after that guy with- what is that, a trash can lid?"

There's a nervous throat-clearing beside them. The thugs' intended victim is standing there, twisting his hands over each other as he takes in Steve's bumps and scrapes guiltily.

"I-I, um. Thank you. My shop is just nearby, if you need to clean up...?"

"That's really kind of you." Bryn gives him a smile and a nod, still unclear as to how he fits in with the situation. Whatever he's doing here, it's a nice offer and she's happy to accept on the breathless Steve's behalf.

Steve's gaze snaps to the victim upon his re-emergence and he scrambles to get to his feet. It makes him a little dizzy to get up so quickly breathless as he is, but it's unimportant. As are the rest of his injuries right now.

"Are you okay?"

His gaze flits to Bryn and Ghost.

"This is the guy they were harassing."

Bryn reaches to help steady him as he scrambles up, but he's already on his feet by the time she stands. Ghost blinks at him, startled by how fast he seems to have forgotten his injuries. Still, they have another concern and the little bot drifts closer to peek at the stranger for signs of hurt.

"I'm fine," the man assures them, wincing a little as he moves. "For now, at least... thanks to you. We should go inside quickly."

"All right." Bryn's a little bemused still, but she picks up on the lingering tension in their attitudes. She'll offer Steve support if he seems inclined to take it at all, still glancing over him with concern. The man he rescued beckons them toward a back door into one of the stores.

"Why do I get the feeling those two will be back..." Ghost murmurs where his two friends can hear.

"Thanks."

Steve allows Bryn to help him inside so that he can take a seat wherever one is offered by the man giving them entrance to his store. Ghost's point makes Steve nod to the bot, the same thought already crossing his mind.

He's going to have to start frequenting this area just to be sure they leave this guy alone, from the looks of things. Or follow them the next time he sees them so he can see who else they're harassing. Looks like Steve just found himself a new hobby.

"Ah...guess I really did go overboard." Steve looks down at his bloody palms, only now starting to really feel the aches and pains shooting through his body now that the adrenaline is starting to wean.

The store owner finds them a couple of washcloths and a sink in the back room, then bustles about looking anxiously for a first aid kit. Bryn doesn't need much help: she just washes off quickly and comes back with a warm damp cloth for Steve.

"Just a little. Do you... um, typically fight that way?"

"It was kind of amazing." Here, Steve. Bryn wants a look at those bloodied hands to check where you're cut. It's fine if her friend doesn't need the help, but she's on a high right now and she gets affectionate when she's excited. "I know fighting isn't supposed to be fun but I actually enjoyed that - I mean, except for the part where people got hurt." She glances at the store owner in passing, noticing how nervous he still seems.

Steve gives another heartfelt thank you to the store owner when he produces a washcloth and tries to hold still as Bryn gets to work on looking him over. He's suddenly entirely too tired to fight her on this, even if he'd normally get huffy about being babied.

He leans his head back against the wall he's sitting against and turns his gaze toward Ghost.

"I get into a lot of scraps." Steve admits, a trace of a smile on his face. "Not so much since I got here, but. I...I don't like bullies. Never have. I can't look away when I see something wrong going on."

It's probably for the best. She doesn't mean anything by it really: Steve's more hurt than she is and she has too much energy to sit around. It is nonetheless an unthinking assumption: she's just going to roll ahead and help regardless of whether he'd ask her to.

"No. I understand completely." The entire purpose of Ghosts being to find knight-errants to dig up and send back into the fight. "And, um... do you usually get hurt?"

Ghost knows he's right the minute Steve's gaze drops guiltily to the floor of the shop, refusing to meet his optic for several seconds.

"Yeah, usually. I'm not exactly a big guy. Lots of times it ends in me gettin' beat up."

Ghost sighs, reflecting on his ability to find friends with so little sense of self-preservation. Perhaps it says something about his taste.

"Isn't there anyone else around to help?" Bryn asks, cleaning the last of his cuts. "I understand if there's no authority here you've got to do something... but it doesn't seem fair that you have to get hurt all the time."

The store owner winces as he hands her the first aid box, alcohol wipes and band-aids and all. Bryn doesn't notice: she's plotting to ask Ghost if they can return and help. Or at least ask someone with authority to do so.

"...Did you just sigh at me? I didn't know robots could sigh."

They shouldn't have to, which means the reaction is entirely emotional in nature and Steve feels his ears turning pink with the embarrassment of disappointing his robot buddy.

"I don't have to. I choose to."

Steve's gaze flits back to Bryn, a determined gleam in his eye. Then to the store owner, after nodding in thanks.

"You didn't make me do anything sir. I stepped in of my own volition."

"It's, um, just a habit I've picked up." Steve can take comfort in the implication that it's not dealing with him that's necessitated this mimicry. "I just worry sometimes that my friends are a little too eager to run into danger..."

"I am very grateful," the store owner says carefully. "This is not the first time they have come to people on this street. But you should not try to fight them again. I do not think they will be so... so unguarded the next time they see you. It should not be your responsibility to face our problems. Or your burden to suffer for them."

That at least stops Bryn frowning at Steve: she turns that look on the other man, objecting, "Problems like this are everybody's responsibility. If they can do something about it, I mean. But I still think there ought to be a better way."

"I'm not a masochist Ghost, I promise."

Steve squirms a little, guilt setting in that he's worried his floating friend.

"Sometimes I wish I could walk away when I see trouble. I just...I can't."

Someone's got to stand up to people who are used to getting their way. Someone has to have the courage to look them in the face and say 'no, you move'. Steve may not be the most capable in a fight, but he's dedicated and stubborn as hell. his gaze shifts to the store owner.

"I don't know how they get around the anti-violence field, but it's not right. Harassing the people around here. I don't regret stepping in, but you've got a point."

If he's going to be staking the place out he'll have to be more careful. Best to get a weapon maybe.

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rekindledtitan - 2016-09-28 21:58 (UTC) - Expand

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