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Intro Post

Welcome to Carlyle...

Waking Up

It's happening again. All around town. Maybe it's in the cereal aisle of the general store while no mothers with squalling children are traversing it. Maybe it's in the middle of the town's lonely graveyard, full of hundred-year-old graves in the middle of the night. Maybe in the local city hall restroom, eyes opening to a gaze-full of toilet paper, or in the town's settler museum full of wagon wheels and old farming paraphernalia.

There are still a few government workers milling around since the first influx. People in bland suits of various shades of grays and browns, nothing particularly impressive, but if they approach someone who doesn't seem to belong they'll bring them through the intake process. Though there's a chance that, instead, they'll meet a kindly marshall. Average middle-class white guy, a tall Midwesterner with some scruff and a formal uniform and a stocky build. He will discretely move them through if it's needed, make sure they have an ID and paperwork and phone and some concealing clothes if they have the body type that works for it. If they look special or like someone the government might want, he'll try to keep things on the down-low for them.

Better than to lose people again.

Getting Familiarized

When investigating the town, they'll find it with trace damage from the night before. Someone is replacing a door that has ax-marks in it. Another is rebuilding a fence, a crashed car ready to be towed away. And yet another person is filing an insurance claim with his agent, his shed completely burned down and the air closeby filled with the scent of settled smoke.

Most of the residents of Carlyle are friendly. If you stop and ask for directions, they'll give them. It's also a time of year in which there are lots of outsiders, on top of current events. Unfortunately, if anyone's dressed in an entirely unfamiliar way, someone might over-react. They may excitedly run to get one of the agents, or they might scream about it happening again, or they might be absolutely delighted and want pictures so they can go viral on FaceBook.

There's a cafe in town where there's are a slew of reporters, talking about post-Vesanalia clean-up and the lost arrivals. At first, someone who wanders in might be mistaken for another reporter, there to order coffee or jam microphones at the management outside. But someone might be smart. A towns-person might notice something off, a familiarity in their gaze, or might hear them say something suspicious. The next thing they know, those reporters are turning their microphones towards the newcomer.

Settling In

Someone might need somewhere to sleep. Well, there's a nice little hotel where it's free. There's probably government surveillance if you care about that sort of thing. Otherwise, your rest will go undisturbed and have the average conveniences of a mediocre bed, a Febreeze smelling duvet, a somewhat new TV, and bathroom with a tile pattern installed in the 80s. One could try a barn, but there's a chance they'll be run out by an angry man in honest to god overalls and an unironic cowboy hat with a pitchfork. They could also try to sleep in a vehicle. Let's just hope the owner doesn't come checking before morning.

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Waking Up

[Connor opens his eyes and sits bolt upright immediately, extremely concerned. Waking up is something he only does if he shuts down to begin with, and he doesn't remember doing that. He gets to his feet quickly and looks around. He seems to be in a park, empty for the moment, and he came to on the roundabout. He hops off it and dusts himself off, fixes his tie, and calls out.]

Hank?

[Nothing... is he on his own? Where is he, anyway?]

Hello? Is anyone there?

Getting Familiarised

[He's busy scanning the town after coming to the conclusion that he's no longer in Detroit. He reconstructs disturbing scenes of violence, and wonders why it happened. It seems peaceful enough here now, at least.

He approaches the nearest person, deciding to ask.]

Excuse me, but do you know what happened here?

[Hank is down for the fucking count. Like a limp sack of sand on the ground, dead drunk in appearance though if someone were to smell his breath they'd find him clean as a whistle (sort of, okay not really but not drunk enough to pass out). He's at the edge of that park, unconscious, and there's a stray dog tentatively approaching him and sniffing his shoe.]

[The moment it sees Connor, it takes its wiry legs and flees off into the brush, but Hank doesn't stir. Doesn't move or react in any way. Not even sleepy, clumsy muttering coming out of him in his thorough slumber.]

[Connor rushes over and grabs Hank's shoulders when he spots him, kneeling down beside him. He shakes him roughly, then leans in to check his breath. No, he shouldn't be passed out just from alcohol intake... so the same thing must have happened to Hank as it did to him.]

Lieutenant, wake up!

[He will absolutely slap Hank awake if he has to.]

Hammbledd no Connor I'm thnn [There was a single word that happened there, and he loosely fumbles and reaches up and puts his hand on Connor's chest. Shh, Connor. Shh. He is very tired, and wishes to continue sleeping.]

[He is saved from a slap, though, luckily, by opening his eyes. And those big blues swivel one way. Then the other, And he sits up on his elbows with a perplexed look.]

No.

[That is his assessment of the situation. It is 'No'. He's not having it.]

[Well, that's one way to address the situation.]

Good, you're awake. Something is very wrong. I woke up here, too. I don't know where we are. I-

[He looks around helplessly, then gets back to his feet.]

Come on, we need to find out what's going on here.

[Hank groans as he pulls himself to his feet, all that old-man crankiness wearing on his shoulders as he rights to standing and looks around. Some fuckin'...] Where the hell is this?

[It's somewhere cold, that's for sure. Not Detroit and nowhere he's been. Not a single skyscraper tearing up the skyline, the jagged teeth of the city gone. Cyberlife's spires of wealth completely absent.]

[Hank looks to Connor.]

Yeah. Yeah, let's go do that. [Because who the fuck would kidnap them and... what, dump them? Why asleep? Why anything that's happening now?]

I don't know.

[Connor has only ever seen Detroit, this is completely new to him.]

What is the last thing you remember?

[He leaves the park, keeping Hank close by incase he passes out again or something.]

[Hank sticks by Connor, too, similarly protective despite that it was Connor who woke him up rather than vice versa. He wants to make sure no one is hostile to the strange android. Especially with the city still under quarantine and android suspicions at their height in the US.]

[He is careful when they approach someone on the street, padding himself down for his badge which he's sure is useless. It's a little old lady beside the park, by her little gingerbread looking house, trying to right a spray-painted mailbox- fuckin' punks knocking down mailboxes.]

[But it's about then that he starts noticing that there's petty vandalism all up and down the street.] Jesus, did the local cops do something dumb or was it just Homecoming? [That sass is remarked quietly to Connor. Before he speaks out loud to the nice lady.] Ma'am! Excuse me. Mind if we ask for some directions?

[Connor lets Hank speak with the lady, scanning a damaged car nearby. Looks a lot like someone took a bat to it. Actually, it looks like multiple different blunt weapons were used on it.]

What happened here?

[He glances back to the old woman.]

This car is heavily damaged. And there's evidence of other crimes all the way up this street.

Oh, that one's not mine, if you're with the insurance people. [She starts up as she's turning around, but then seems to notice Connor's clothes. And that Hank is utterly unfamiliar. Her jaw drops.]

W-ait! You're both strangers! You're those!

[And it's at that reaction that Hank steps in front of Connor, reaching behind him and using his bulk to protectively hide him.] We're not with any-

[He's trying to thwart the situation, but she's about to call for some guy in a suit, which Hank finally keys in on as law enforcement and not just some local. And Hank mutters a quick-] Go get rid of your jacket. Get a fucking disguise. Go. I'll find you in a bit.

[Connor looks wide-eyed between Hank and the woman, wondering if he can resolve this somehow. Ultimately though, he realises that Hank is probably in less danger as a human than Connor is as an android. He backs up, looking up at Hank.]

...Okay. Be careful, Lieutenant.

[And he dashes away, hopping over a fence and into someone's backyard. Luckily, it's empty. He sheds his jacket and stashes it in a bush, then heads back out onto the streets after passing through a few gardens. He needs to hide his LED.]

I'll be fine.

[He promises, turning just long enough to watch him go, before he goes over to talk to the government guys and prepares to lie through his teeth. This conversation, though, doesn't go how he expects.]

[If Connor can see him, if he can turn up his sound sensitivity, read lips, what he gets is a montage of Hank reacting more than answering questions. What do you mean, 2019? and I'm in fucking Montana!? being prize sentences among them. Then a frantic, This is bullshit, this doesn't make any sense! and the cops showing him a phone. Newspapers. Evidence that this isn't the year Hank thinks it is.]

[It's taking some convincing. But during the conversation a voice clears behind him. Rather than say anything, though, the man in a marshall's uniform and ranger-hat makes a "shh" motion at Connor. He can tell he's hiding.]

Edited 2019-02-26 02:44 (UTC)

[Connor turns quickly, but the man doesn't seem to be a threat. So Connor eyes him, trying to figure out if he can trust him.]

Who are you?

[And then, because honestly, he's really confused-]

How did we get here?

[Because he's overheard something about it being 2019 and that they're in Montana, but... how?]

Edited 2019-02-26 02:53 (UTC)

[The guy gestures for Connor to follow him, rather than respond immediately. He's going to get them away, towards a public place that's unpublic in the way people blend in. Enough strangers that yet another stranger makes sense. And it's there that he turns and says,] It happened before. Those people went missing. Here. [He takes a phone out of his pocket (he's been used to carrying one of the spares on him) and slips it into Connor's hand.]

I can't offer you more than this right now. [The poor marshall is having a harried day, and he has to abandon Connor to that blank phone.]

[Hank, in the meantime, is a beat from punching someone. Nothing anyone is saying is making sense, and there's a sort of rage-filled impotence settling on him. A futility that he abhors, because everything they're giving him isn't adding up.]

Look, I just want to get this over with. How long is this going to take? [Hank asks.]

Just a couple of hours. [Is the response he gets, and Hank sighs in exasperation.]

Great. Faster than the DMV.

[Joke as old as the hills to cover how worried he is about Connor right now, and since he can't see him (and is trying hard not to look like he's looking for someone, because investigators would notice that) he's just hoping and trusting that he'll find him when it seems safe.]

Edited 2019-02-26 03:20 (UTC)

[Connor takes the phone and is about to ask more questions when he just leaves. Well, a phone could be useful. He can look up information on here once he's gotten a disguise.

He has to steal a packet of band aids in the end, because stealing anything bigger would be too obvious. It doesn't feel good to do, but he hasn't got much choice. He sticks one over the LED, figuring he can just say he has a scrape there or something.

Now to find Hank. He wanders around for a while, until he spots him and jogs over.]

Hank. I couldn't find you. What happened back there?

[Hank has a new psuedo ID, and a new phone, and has luckily escaped a tracking collar, he thinks at this rate. Not that they offered one or threatened one, likely because it'd look bad for the 'There's no threat here don't panic!' image they're going for.' He's wondering how long that shit will last.]

They told me it's fucking 2019. Fuckin'... and it's like, a different 2019. Shit doesn't line up. They programmed you with some basic history, right?

Am I dead?

[He suddenly furrows his brow, like he's having to seriously consider this option out of nowhere. Is this all a pre-death hallucination?]

I don't think we're dead. And we can't be dreaming, either. Androids don't dream.

[He looks concerned, though.]

Did they say what was going to happen to us?

[He's more worried about Hank at this point.]

Nothing right now. They said there's a hotel I can stay at for free. I think we might have to uh...

[The touch feels a little personal, but he reaches to Connor's head like he's brushing his hair away. Instead, he lightly touches his temple with the back of his knuckle, a gentle graze over where his LED is hidden, indicating what he means.]

[His own concern for Connor is evident here. He's already almost lost him enough times. He doesn't want to go through another friend, another cop, another member of his make-shift family.]

Not sure you'd want to, but it might be for the best.

[They're still in public, but he's hoping they're still discrete enough that people aren't paying that much attention.]

Edited 2019-02-27 04:40 (UTC)

[He accepts the touch, nodding slightly.]

I had considered that, yes. I'll take it out when I get the opportunity.

[It doesn't matter too much to him. He'll do it if it's necessary.]

Should we go to the hotel, then?

[He doesn't need to sleep, but he'll accompany Hank.]

Yeah, but keep your eyes open, will you?

[He means scanning in that helpful Connory android bullshit way that he can do.]

Are you alright? Did people leave you alone?

[He looks at what feels like an ancient ass phone with an interface that he doesn't remember as being this much of a pain in the ass. But he manages to open Google maps (accidentally turned on voice recognition first).] This is Zuckerberg's fault. We've gotta use fuckin' Facebook for this shit.

[He didn't need Google maps as it turns out, it's a straight shot on their street.]

A man pulled me aside and gave me a phone, then left before I could ask him anything. I got a few strange looks after that, but nobody said anything.

[Connor sighs at Hank's failure to use the phone properly.]

You could have let me do that.

[As they come up to the hotel, Connor scans the area. Nothing to note, really.]

Well, you're not my servant, you're my partner, and I can do it my own damned self.

[He says as he immediately locks his phone by accident.] Oh goddammit. [And then he starts trying to get the thing to accept his fingerprint because he guesses that's what he's doing now.]

[He slows his walking, and waits for Connor's assurance that it's okay to proceed.] I wonder who it was... Guess we'll have to figure out a way to get you an ID. I don't want them giving you a physical.

Obviously.

[He'll just let Hank struggle, then.]

It seems clear. We should get inside a room. I'll look for cameras once we're inside.

[He can probably hack them once he's spotted them, if any.]

This shit is twenty years old. I should be able to figure it out. I think I even had one of these fucking phones.

[He thinks it was as big of a pain in the ass back then, too. But he moves on from Connor's sass as they walk towards the motel.]

I'll get the room for us. Just put my name on the guest list until we figure out what to do about you.

[He knows Connor doesn't have to stay with him, but he's taking it as a given that he's going to.]

[Connor figured they’d be sharing a room, too. Why have a room with a bed for a man who doesn’t sleep? In any case, he’s happy to follow Hank wherever he ends up.]

We can discuss that inside.

[Once he’s searched the room.]

Welcome to Carlyle...

Waking Up

Getting Familiarized

Settling In

Connor | Detroit: Become Human

Waking Up

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