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Sam Anders ([info]pyramidcylon) wrote in [info]parabolical,
@ 2009-06-14 11:39:00

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Entry tags:mirta gev, sam anders

WHO: Sam Anders Number Nine and Mirta Gev
WHAT: Death of a Cylon?
WHEN: 14th June- morning
WHERE: She's tracked him to a warehouse
RATING: High
STATUS: In progress


This was impossible. He had overseen the last destruction of humanity, the final remnants hunted down and eliminated. And yet here they were, thriving despite their flaws and weaknesses. The first thing the Cylon had done was interface with the computer networks, searching for more of his kind. Had he still felt human emotions he may have felt fear at the emptiness he discovered.

But he was a machine, with the human weaknesses destroyed from him. And all he felt was a determination to rebuild the Cylon race. He had the secrets to resurrection in his mind, the first of the Final Five to rejoin his people. It was more than possible for him to recreate the Cylons, both Centurion and adapted humanoid model, in this strange place.

As he stepped out into the streets, at first people laughed.

"What are you, man, some kinda Borg?"

The Cylon looked at his cybernetic arm, at the implants that covered almost fifty per cent of his body. And then the people began to realize he wasn't in costume. And then the screaming began.

New hybrids needed to be created, he decided, and these people would make adequate specimens. He snatched them up, applying appropriate pressure to the throat to render them unconscious before dragging them off to a work space he'd developed in a warehouse in the industrial district.

Nothing could stop him rebuilding a victorious Cylon race. Nothing.

(Post a new comment)


[info]mirtagev
2009-06-14 06:53 am UTC (link)
Something could stop him, Someone. One particular someone she was sure the machine with the nerve to walk around looking like her boyfriend wouldn't see coming. Mirta was petite and unassuming without her armour. And nearing the end of her first trimester even if the thing had known about her skill she bet it doubted she was a threat. But Mirta had no plans to engage the thing directly or even talk to it, that would be suicide.

No, Mirta had the gun, targetted, armour piercing rounds, with a scope and a sight. It would do what it was intended for. It had to. Failure wasn't an option.

She had tracked Number Nine to a warehouse, and almost vomited at the sight of people trapped, tortured, it reminded her more than a little of the Anakin Solo. All it needed was that kriffed up Vong device hanging threateningly nearby. He was killing them, or worse.

It only made it clearer to Mirta that he had nothing of Sam left in him.

She'd snuck in a fire exit when she'd noticed he'd been entirely distracted and found herself a hiding spot, she had cover, but line of sight, utterly cold, not thinking about just how much the think looked like her ramikad she lined up her target, and waited for her moment.

It was just a job, just another contract.

Just a job.

(Reply to this) (Thread)


[info]pyramidcylon
2009-06-14 07:09 am UTC (link)
The human specimens were weak, flawed. They cried as he strapped them down, removing limbs and replacing them with mechanical parts. Did they not understand he was making them better? Stronger? The Final Five had once tried to make the Cylons bettwe by increasing their humanity. That had been a mistake. They were machines, that was what they were meant to be. Humanity had treated them like slaves, but in the end, their superiority had defeated their former masters.

And now he'd do it again.

He almost admired their continued resistance, even if it was utterly pointless. Ultimately, he would win. And the human race would be no more.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]mirtagev
2009-06-14 07:15 am UTC (link)
He was distracted again, working with that insane drive that she knew from experiance meant there was no hope, nothing worth saving at all, she knew there was only one way for this to end. Awful as it was she had to take him down, for the sake of the city, maybe even for the sake of this planet.

She had the shot, and without feeling, without allowing herself to even really realise what she was doing, Mirta took it.

Three armour piercing bullets in quick sucsession aimed straight for the side of his head, just at the neck, it seemed the most appropriate place, if it failed she'd just let loose with bullets until he was dead. But she wouldn't fail. She was Mandalorian.

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[info]pyramidcylon
2009-06-14 07:26 am UTC (link)
The Cylon had disconnected himself from the computer network and was adjusting the input data for the most advanced of the new hybrids. Already its humanity was slipping away, to be replaced with a computer mind suitable for piloting a Base Star.

When he felt the pain in his head, it took him a moment to register what it was. For a long, single second he stared at the blood, his blood, on the ground. He still had the human blood pumping around his body, his evolvment hadn't robbed him of that.

And he'd been shot, in the head. Three times.

Not the first time, but this, this was the first time there was no comforting download waiting for him. He hadn't built that yet. No more bodies for him.

And the tiny trace that had once been Sam Anders had a single thought.

Frak

He collapsed in a heap on the floor, his human eye wide and unseeing as the implant over his other eye slowly dimmed to nothingness.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]mirtagev
2009-06-14 07:37 am UTC (link)
He collapsed, and Mirta didn't move for a few seconds, it was all she could do to stay standing. She'd shot him, irrationally it felt like she'd just shot Sam. It helped of course that he looked more machine than man. It helped that the implant was dimming even as she spoke. It wasn't Sam, Sam was somewhere else.

She finally, after a deep breath moved across the floor, not looking at him, she couldn't she wouldn't. The armour piercing gun replaced at her side. Mirta retrived the basic handgun she carried and looked down at the people he'd been messing with.

It was twisted, it was wrong. And looking down at them, in pain, or so far beyond pain she wasn't sure they were human anymore Mirta shot them, all of them, a bullet for each, straight to the forhead.

The Cylon's grand plans were over.

She knew logically she should do something about the bodies, knew they would have to be moved at some point but she didn't care, she didn't want to think of it, of any of it. Right now Mirta just needed to sit down.

So that was what she did, she walked outside the warehouse and sat down, gun replaced where it should be and phone in hand.

She was sick of people pandering to the monsters pretending to be their loved ones. And she was going to make sure the city knew it.

(Reply to this) (Parent)

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