( OPEN ) Concordia day 009-013 stuff yooo

[frakkincylons]

CHARACTERS: Sam Anders + YOU
WHERE: Bearings, maybe other places as stuff comes up
WHEN: Day 009-013
SUMMARY: Sam gets his robo-prophet on + starts to investigate the clues he'd gotten + checks out the bombing thing idk. Also catch all for general other things. There's two things in here with Sam going hella Hybrid, and if that's confusing as fuck to you, check the description for it. It's weird, I'm sorry.
WARNINGS: some blood and ickiness bc hybrid state is creepy. will update as needed!



A) DAY 009 - TECHNO PROPHECY;

[ in the dim of the Bearing's commons room, Sam's lounged back on the couch command center he and Angel had set up, with several monitors and more gadgets than they likely need. if it weren't for the fact he's talking, you'd likely take him as just sleeping with his eyes weirdly open. ]

Allocate processes to data stream and monitor, a spell so exquisite that everything conspires to break it. [ Sam's quiet, blank murmuring shouldn't be much of a surprise to anyone, by now. Maybe the new kids, but even those Sam's likely made sure to warn about his Hybrid ability, what it looks like, and why you should really take him seriously when he says "block me out for the next few minutes". It's, mentally, incredibly loud, and anyone going diving into his head during this, without a mind suited for it like Sam's, would only hear something like high pitched, ear-splitting ringing, and feeling like their skull is being cracked open with too, too much thought, before either bleeding from the ears, or passing out. could be both. if you've been in Bearings, you've gotten this warning already. It's a good idea to heed it. If not block him (he shouldn't be outright invading anyone that isn't his Brood), certainly don't go actively following his mind. And just... ignore the guy with a computer wire pushed up into a small cut at the palm of his hand, like he's literally plugged into the computer, rapidly babbling nonsense in a blank, emotionless tone. ] Initiate sequence in subgroup, longview of scan paths merged back in the stream that feeds the ocean that feeds the stream. Throughout history the nexus between man and machine has spun some of the most dramatic, compelling fiction - function steady, event null. The lines bleed, ink into threads and fibers. The world burns, then colors.

New paragraph. Inset. The flower inside the fruit that is both its parent and its child, [ This city brings back so much of Sam's life before. Going back through the recordings of what he'd said while in this state, he'd been surprised to find a few things he'd heard spoken by the other Hybrids, and himself, even, here and there. He supposed that makes sense, given the circumstances. ] Clusters within clusters create a network not yet examined, we are already one, 'and I think to myself, what a wonderful world'. Poison in the well - fire, water, and government know nothing of mercy. Transformation is the goal. Trace archival tangents, referencing topical patterns - innovation and ambition burning minds and souls with wildfire, balance at the pinnacle reaching for truth and perfection. They wage war on shadow, not substance. End of line.

A closed system lacks the ability to renew itself. As the sun's shadow shifts, so there is no permanence.

[ and then, an abrupt pause, like the air just just frozen inside his lungs. Where his head is leaned back against the head of the couch, Sam's chin tilts just slightly, eyelids blinking rapidly (the light of the monitor seeming to flicker in time with them). We found something. ]

...Abort function. New command. [ The pause settles a moment longer, and Sam looks like he's peering through the ceiling, through each level of the building, through the roof and out into the stars. Eventually, a gasp, like being dropped into a pool of ice water, and he starts up again, the same babbling trance, but something more fervent in it now. ] All the old ones gather from the temples in all corners, realities in wax paper layers, time is a circle, a line, a knot whispers the divine mother from four mouths and four faces. Dreams of holy cradle sweeping rustled leaves through circuitry and synthetic tissue, spark of life clinging to the edges and echoes of substance, a thread that holds the dam. The river cannot meet the ocean, the stream interrupted.

Realign. Realign. Realign.

All forces between two objects exist in equal magnitude and opposite direction, inertia is the natural tendency to resist changes in a state of motion. A gap, a reaction, a combustion - the newborn fields burning.

Sparks, and--

[ and he starts to scream. all one long, monotone note, but definitely something you'd call a scream, echoing back through all speakers and audio devices set up at the couch command center, like the room is shaking apart. The hand free of the wire connection seems to be making a visible struggle to make it over to where the cable enters his skin on the opposite arm, like pushing against an invisible force. when he finally reaches it, there's a quick jerk, pulling it free, and Sam goes completely limp, eyes lidded and vacant.

give him about 10 or so minutes, he'll be back. this is intermission. ]

B) DAY 010 - POST BOOM;

[ Like most curious citizens to when something big and exciting (and tragic) happens, Sam follows the masses that huddle outside the police line where the explosions too place, already scanning through extraspace for details on it, seeing theories pop up here and there. there's a sense of deep dread in him, bleeding out, as he goes. all of the night and day before, Sam had been scrambling, trying to figure out what he'd seen about an explosion in his Hybrid state meant. Where it would happen, how. He's gone skulking through Subspace, wanderings around the Data Banks, checked government buildings, and found nothing that narrowed it down. And then, the city shook with the shockwave of the explosion, and he'd known, in an instant, that time was up. stepping up, and looking over the heads of the city goers in front of him, Sam's eyes finally land on the wreckage, and it's like cold confirmation. ]

Frak me, this is it.

[ There's the distinct sense of failure in him, and he's chewing at the inside of a lip, as he absently scans the area. What frakking good is all this nonsense you get if you can't puzzle it out enough to help anyone in time, Sam? Do better. A few people shuffle past him, and Sam has the misfortune of hearing a comment about 'at least no one died', and wants to punch something. Someone died. Fifty someones died. If John wanted him to form a grudge against humanity, he should've sent him to Concordia as the only sentient droid. ]

Gods. Okay. [ Turning back, he's squinting more at the crowd and the officers, now, than the wreckage, and trying to figure out what's the best way to make something out of this. Reaching out to any of the others from the Nest close enough to hear him, especially those at the site, he's mentally brainstorming possible ways forward - ] ( So there's the three injured witnesses, right? They'll be swarmed with cops and press. Do we have anyone with a power that could get to them? Reports said 50 synthetics were kil-- scrapped. But if there's any that weren't completely totaled, maybe we can try to get some kind of drive from them, see if we can fix it. Anyone know where the robot graveyard is? )

[ haha...ha... it's probably a landfill or a junkyard trash pile and he knows it. gods, he hates this planet. ]

C) DAY IDEFK - HACKITY HACK HACKING;

[ It's been a week and a half, and since Angel's initial network flagging, Sam's tried to keep himself aggressively under the radar, using his Hybrid state to surf for information and rapidly compile it, but not for any kind of forcible infiltration. Today's the day. The initial idea is to try getting the attention of someone within EXTRAAA, as they're the ones who seem to have the capability to get to the information he and Angel just aren't familiar enough with the world to sneak to. Who seem to have been doing it for a while, now. Tracing any down the old fashioned way had been a bust - after all, they're very legitimate criminals here, given how serious cyber crime is taken. So, this is more the Do Their Job For Them And See If They Say Thanks idea. Maybe. Sort of. We'll see how it goes.

He'd picked on of the targets EXTRAAA seemed to be after - not too high profile, not terribly low profile either. Somewhere in the middle. He goes as far as he can the old fashioned way - two hands and what he's learned from Anakin and Angel - and then he's letting out a slow exhale, and giving another warning shout to the level at large to wall up their minds form him again. tugging off the bandage over a small cut on the heel of his palm (which is going to be a really ugly scar, after a while), Sam starts to press a thin, network cable inside the wound, and about three inches up his wrist, beneath the skin. it's really, really gross. After a moment or so of heavy blinking, and sinking back against the couch, every inch of him seems to go sharply rigid, like something else just took possession of his body, the same monotone babbling starting up again. ]

Initiate breach with simulated parameters, traced patterns and a slowed forgery - machine plays human plays machine plays human. Conquer; but conquer to your cost. I know, utters the fool, be quick, be quiet. End of line. [ apparently he can now argue with himself like this. great. the rapidly shifting display on the monitor in front of him starts to slow, however. still fast, but something that seems more human. leave no traces, but if you do, make them inconspicuous traces. he'd spent the last week and a half in Bearings looking through sites and forums on network and database hacking, and the Hybrid side of him seemed to always have a window of it open somewhere, teaching itself. Heuristics is part of a functioning AI, after all. The mimicry is likely not perfect, but attempted, at least. Narrowed down to what can be done with one set of hands on one keyboard. ]

Moss over rocks, coral on a reef, life weaves and weaves and the city sprawls, feeds into itself and into itself and back into creation. Tunnels like ants, the lower levels crush and collapse under the weight of chariots driven above. Dragons guarding piles of gold with sharp minds, brave hearts, ruthless claws, cracking and splintering, backs broken. A boot clamped on top of a skull blocks the sky. Structure of lead, strict and rigid, black poison and ink corruption in the veins along the tiers of our fair city, the machine of production shovels out riches into the hands that favor the chosen. [ a blink of a pause, and the flickering screen seems to slow and complete the process. ] The fortress falls, sweep footprints from the snow with broken, brittle branches. End of--

[ His focus seems to falter, a rapid blink, and something is added on, like an amendment, before completing. ]

A star eyed son, a prophet in the counting house, a hand made of scars. The shepherd wears a crown of diamonds. End of line.

[ Aaand, unplug. Again, give him a minute or so to be a vegetable, and eventually, he'll be blinking back into consciousness, giving himself a quick shake, and then leaning forward to peer at the screen again, squinting around and trying to get as much from the database he's broken into as he can, as quickly as he can, before getting the hell out of there. Also, he remembers nothing of what he just said (he'll playback a recording later), so maybe telling him in a moment or so would be a good idea. ]

D) DAY 011-013 - RIDDLES AND STUFF;

[ This is probably the most intense Sam's been in the last week - sitting cross legged on the couch, a notepad in his lap and a pencil scrawling all over what seems like the fifth page, as a recording of what sounds like himself speaking utter nonsense playing from the computer in front of him. He's been recording himself anytime he goes into Hybrid state, and taking notes on bites and pieces that sound important, and today he's gone back through it, start to finish, because there's finally seeming to be something of substance in it.

His notes are a bit confusing, a scribbling of a lot of different phrases, some puzzled out, some not, but generally information relative to Concordia ((assume anything in what the mods gave is in some form recorded in his notes)). Frowning, he's chewing at the end of his pen, and mumbling-thinking outloud. ]

" A star eyed son, a prophet in the counting house, and a hand made of scars." Counting house, that's like... an accounting firm, right? Like operations for a business? Maybe a bank? ...Databanks? Or one of the corporations. Do they do their own accounting, or do they hire out? [ In any of those options, he still has no idea who he'd search out a prophet buried in there. Unless they just stood outside, with their ledger, proclaiming the End Times. Moving on. ] Star eyed son. Who important has a son? Or is a son? ...Every male in the frakking city, great, good job, Anders, way to puzzle that one out.

[ Sam's really starting to hate... himself. His Hybrid-self, because Gods, could we not just say something straight for once? With a huff, he flips the page, moving on to yet another point. ]

Whatever. Okay, four faced divinity, that's... [ some scrambling through notes here, pen held between his teeth like a cigarette. ] Lirinity. 'Goddess of four aspects; mother, daughter, world and self. Found in everything from the natural world to the man-made'. Huh. Sounds nice. So maybe the prophet we're looking for... is a Lirinitian? A Lirinitian accountant?

[ Very specific. Super helpful. ]

Hey. [ You. In the kitchen, or headed to the bathroom, or just coming in from the elevator, or minding your own business somewhere across the room. You. ] You any good at riddles? Or cryptic crap?

Comments

D, day 11

[headinjuries]

[ And while one Sam is on the couch, another is in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge and contemplating his options. He's not much of a cook, but he can make a few things reliably and he won't burn a kitchen down by setting foot in it, so things could be worse.

Mostly it's just a question of whether he's got the right stuff (or something close enough) to make any of it.

It's almost laughably similar to what he'd be doing if he were home from school on some random afternoon, watching his sister and killing time until his mom gets home. And that's the point, really, because even if he's not super hungry, doing something vaguely normal feels a lot better than letting himself freak out about the part where he's who knows where and has no idea what they're supposed to do about the bombing.

And while he wasn't really listening to the other guy talking to himself on the couch (hadn't gotten introductions yet, but whatever, he seemed kind of into something?), a moment later he realizes that was directed at him, and his head pops out from the fridge to look across the room. ]

I, uh.

[ Not...great but - ]

I'm actually passing English lit this semester?

[ Which at least puts him above some of his peer group when it comes to figuring out bullshit symbolism. ]

[frakkincylons]

[ Child. It's surprised to him, just how many kids are brought into the Nest. He supposes some people are just found much earlier in life. As opposed to 2,000 years into their lives. Well, whatever. Kid's here now, and whether or not that sucks for him, he's on the team.

And he's passing English lit. Wonderful. ]

Better than me. [ anders, you're not in school. and you technically never were. hush. anyway, he lifts a hand and waves the kid over to sit with him. ] Come on down.

[ once he gets over, he'll be handed the notepad to look through. ] I'm Sam, by the way. Sam Anders.

[headinjuries]

[ He closes the fridge - nothing jumped out at him, but whatever, it's not like he's that hungry anyway - and makes his way over to flop onto the couch. As he's starting to look over the notepad, though, the introduction makes him look up. ]

Oh, man. How many of us are there?

[ ...he should probably qualify that. ]

I'm Sam Alexander. Hi.

[frakkincylons]

[ Anders is flopping back against the couch, having a good laugh for that, because really, out of all the multiverse, there's 3 Sams here? He knew it was a popular name, but damn. ]

An small army, I guess.

[ He shrugs, humored. ]

Okay - I'll be Anders, the other guy's Wilson, you can keep Sam. How's that?

[headinjuries]

Works for me. Alexander's more of a mouthful.

[ Better than that year in gym class where they just had to number themselves off because nobody wanted to be Sammy. ]

B. DAWN OF THE TENTH DAY.

[unsea]

[ There is no avoiding the sense of dread that wells up, thick and tar-like, throughout the Nest's connection. ]

Sam.

[ The Darkling is there as well, among the gathering crowd. News travels fast among the Nest.

The seizure-schism of consciousness had yielded something. Far too much of it, from what it seemed. Enough so that sifting through all the vibrancy had resulted in a handful of could-bes and might-have-beens and none of them had lead Sam, nor any of them, from preventing this. What a remarkable power that Sam possessed; though, it was not something that he wished to experience first hand. Ever. An oracle's madness might become infectious. Or, at the least, deadly. And the depth of Sam Anders might kill them all, if they were ever to be caught unawares. What a dangerous, dangerous man. ]

Sam, [ he repeats, aloud. Trying to make contact with the man without delving into his mind and his myriad of emotions. ] Don't let this become personal.

[ Though he has located his Nest-member to offer his assistance, whatever form that might take, he is also there because of the roiling turbulence of Sam's thoughts. ]

[frakkincylons]

[ The Darkling isn't terribly far away, and if Sam had been paying attention to anything besides the torrent in his head, he'd likely have heard him the first time. He's turning, away from the scene, and starting to weave out of the crowd, feeling too sick to keep standing here. And it's the second part he does hear, once the man gets to his side, a response ground out impulsively. ]

It was personal the minute I got here.

[ Not many in the Nest actually know what he is, aside from having a power to connect with technology. Angel does the same, but she's human, and most of them must figure the same for him. He'd mostly kept it between his Brood, while on this planet, at least, save for a few others. So The Darkling probably doesn't realize what that is so much more personal than just failing to interpret a premonition. ]

[unsea]

[ There's little else to do but follow Sam, as he extracts himself from the crowd's clutches. ]

Personal feelings don't help. Nor change things.

[ He doesn't hold his tongue. There is a particular edge to his words, something pointed and fierce. Among those who don't know the exactness of what Sam is, is the Darkling. But he, opposed to some of the other's within the Nest, is from a world where gunpowder has only just begun to render the Small Science obsolete. The intricacies of -- this technology, these advancements -- it's elusive at worst, and difficult at best. He might not even understand what Sam is, nor would it entirely matter. ]

They provide focus, but are dangerous if left unchecked.

[frakkincylons]

Yeah, well. Problem with being human, isn't it? No emotional off switch.

[ Said with a wry, but slightly hostile laugh, devoid of humor. No one will really get that joke, outside of his Brood. Who may or may not have overheard it. They're likely definitely feeling his emotional instability, at the moment.

But that's exactly it, here. All of that resistance fighter drive, all that anger for what happened, all that hate for the people that did it, and all the sorrow for what's left, flooding back in, and he'd never thought he'd been on this side of the fight, back then. But here it is. And here he is. Wishing he had a Centurian or two nearby, just for the sake of saying sorry.

As for the man talking to him, though, Sam lets out a slow sigh, and tilts his head to glance sideways at him. ]

Don't worry about it. I won't screw anything up. Just need a smoke break. [ at which point, he's digging into a coat pocket and dragging out one of the eight million boxes he bought while planet-side, and a lighter.

[unsea]

Oh no, [ he assures. ] Don't turn it off. Don't ignore it. Just don't let it become a burden.

[ If he's caught the hostility in Sam's laughter, he's not considering it an open threat. Not just yet. Played correctly, their conversation might yield something for both of them. Played incorrectly, and he might just make an enemy out of his own Nest-mate. There are so many emotions running wild within Sam, and the Darkling is young yet. Stopping his own emotions from escaping is an old skill. Stopping other's emotions from entering? That's new. And Sam is rather passionate, it seems. ]

Clearly, you feel deeply for those who perished.

[ There's no protest from him, regarding Sam's smoking. They all have their needs. ]

I don't think you'll "screw anything up", Sam. Just hurt yourself too deeply.

hacking (day 12)

[adamance]

[After what she had learned about Sam from Steve on their Religious Excursion, Lexa had plans to speak to him. It wasn't a matter of extreme importance given her conversation with Carata, but she still felt it was necessary to touch base with him. Eventually. The Bearings' conditions didn't exactly make it difficult, though she still found herself busy with other matters. People had arrived, and she had to accept her place here. The latter of which was heavy.

Still, it's a day after her talk with Carata where she catches the beginning of the long string of words from Sam. She approaches him warily, shoulders tense and legs slightly bent as if she were approaching an animal while hunting it. When he stops, when he seems to be coming to, she has stopped in front of him and has straightened up. Tension still reads visibly in her body.]

What were you doing? [It's a question that doubles as a command, coming out of a place of concern more than anything else. But she is concerned.

She's just also baffled. While he said a lot, Lexa is having a difficult time making any sense of it.]

[frakkincylons]

[ Sam's still shaking the fuzziness out of his head when Lexa speaks up, and his first bit of focus is dedicated to squinting up at her and being very confused as to why she's suddenly there. However, it's only a glance, once he remembers what he was doing, and eyes snap back to the screen in front of him. It worked, frak yes, it worked. And now he needs to get this shit taken care of before someone starts tracing him. ]

Something very illegal. One minute.

[ He tells her, distractedly, as he goes skimming through what data he'd uncovered, copying information and saving it elsewhere to go over later. once he's gotten enough, he's closing out as fast as he can, and, actually, shutting the entire system down for a bit. out of paranoia. because he's sort of terrified of anyone on this planet learning who and what he is.

Anyway, right. The girl - tattoo girl. Lexa. From the destroyed world, with the anti-radiation blood. Sitting back, with a bit of an excited grin still on his lips (because he just did a cool thing and he's proud of himself), he's meeting her warmly. ]

Hey. Do you mean the cyber crime or the weird trance babbling?

[adamance]

I don't know enough to know what is, or isn't, cyber crime. [While a part of her is fully aware that the knowledge may be available, albeit distantly, she hasn't tapped into it just yet. Given the fact that the Flame appears to adapt to her, she thinks it might be unlikely unless she finds a way to commune with technology. Given that her symbiote-given ability has more to do with heat, she doubts that's going to happen anytime soon.

Which is fine.

There are people better prepared for it: Sam, Angel, and Rhys. (Naturally, she trusts Rhys the least with this, in part because she doubts he has a subtle bone in his body.)]

Though I assumed that's what you were accomplishing here. [Lexa nods at the set up, one that's been frequented by both him and Angel for a number of days. (She's kept an eye on the latter, but she hasn't lingered.)]

It was the babbling. You spoke of what seemed to be many paths to destruction.

[frakkincylons]

Probably for the best. I wouldn't worry about it. [ he hadn't seen lexa using too much of the tech one way or the other. cyber crime seems to be taken more seriously than anything else here, so it's likely better fewer of them are into it or worried about it. between him, angel and rhys, they have it fairly covered anyway. anyway, about the babbling - ]

Oh, that. Yeah. [ always a fun topic. if fun meant awkward as hell. sam shifts some, thinking of the best way to explain "i am a robot prophet sometimes when i shove cords under my skin". as much as he can, especially on this planet, he'd like to keep the robot part on the down low, at least. but at the same time, he won't lie about it. ]

It's something I did back home. Used to be harder, and sort of permanent, but the symbiote lets me turn it on and off. [ better than permanent mindmelt, even if the downsides still aren't great. also better that sitting naked in a space goo bath. and being bald. so, yes, this is much preferred. ]

I can control whatever I want with the tech, sort of... be it, I guess, if that makes sense. But my mind kinda goes-- [ there's the gesture of his hands sort of exploding away from his head, with the sound effect to match. boom, everything. universe, time, space, divinity, it all starts pouring in. creation in its entirety. not that he'll expand that much on it. because that also makes him sound like a crazy person. ] I just start rambling stuff. Most of it nonsense. Some of it cryptic crap like, yeah, paths to destruction.

[ which are actually, probably, prophetic, and he's reaching down to boot the computer back up now, to get to the recording of whatever he'd just said. these days, he tries to record it as much as possible. in case there's something important mixed in. there usually is, if he can figure it out - and that's really the clincher there. ]

You know, I told my wife she was the Harbinger of Death once? [ kermitnod.gif ] Yeah, shining marital moment there.

[adamance]

[All too quickly, Lexa considers precisely what's feeding information into her mind, and considers herself grateful that she appears to be in complete and utter control over it. Her ability to control it is shaky, but at least none of the previous commanders are taking over her body and spouting off nonsense. They are a part of her, just as she would be a part of the next Commander—

"Would be." Because things change.

To lose that level of control makes her uneasy. It sounds like precisely the last thing she would ever want to happen to her.

(Naturally, this stems from being a control freak. But part of that is because the Commander of that many people kind of has to be.)]

Is it a message that is trying to get out? [she asks, considering precisely what he's doing. The fact that it all leads to destruction ...

Well, actually, it makes sense. Life, like it or not, is all about survival. She knows there's more to it and that there should be more to it, but in the end, that is a singular truth. What they do while surviving is the real difference.

If a flood of information speaks of destruction, that makes sense to some degree.]

And did your wife believe you? [she adds, simply curious. She wonders if he's thought of how he might not see his wife again. Or accepted that.

Lexa chooses not to pose that question today.]

B, day 10: post boom wreckage.

[deployed]

[ Truthfully, it had terrified Bellamy to see Sam's set up. It's so far outside the realm of Bellamy's experience, all of it registering as dangerous. It's the kind of dangerous he wouldn't permit if he had any say in the matter, but Bellamy had to leave the Bearings entirely. He's not good at blocking anything out deliberately, and find something to occupy his attention entirely. ( The Arcade, with the ugly jokes about Kun-Kun escalating, a backdrop as Bellamy gets into the ring with his Avatar. )

The explosion happens before Bellamy can get himself together enough to ask Sam not only about explanations (what is he?) but about the things he'd said, the memories of which had reverberated through the Nest inescapably. The destruction is unwelcome, but it's at least something Bellamy feels reasonably capable of dealing with. Physically engaging rather than attempting to anticipate disaster is more Bellamy's style, even if the sheer scale of the wreckage makes him feel sick. His expression is momentarily composed, but his inner state is in turmoil. His emotions reflect back the same apprehension and fear of the crowd, coupled with Bellamy's own lingering anxieties, the suspicion that somehow their inaction had allowed this to occur. Sam is a bright spot in the crowd, something for Bellamy to gravitate towards.

But his answer comes through the mental link, hesitant and begrudging, as Bellamy bows to the crush of bodies separating him from Sam. ]

( We can try getting to the witnesses through the doctors. They'll take them somewhere for medical attention, won't they? ) [ Bellamy's thoughts flick briefly from Mount Weather to Arkadia, Abby Griffin's face flashing in association with the latter. ] ( Don't know about the graveyard. I haven't heard anything. )

[ Nothing useful. A lot of spiteful, petty things that wouldn't help them find what Sam's asking for. Bellamy can feel his distress, isn't sure how to soothe it but knows that repeating the scuttlebutt he's encountered would only escalate Sam's emotional state. ]

[frakkincylons]

[ Keeping his emotions held to himself is not something Bellamy is very good at, and it becomes starkly apparent when the boy he'd met out in the Concordia streets becomes terrified of him. It isn't anything new, but not something he'd run into so fiercely here as he had back home. He'd thought of Seelix. Of Gaeta. Of Racetrack. People he called friends, once. Family, even.

But he hadn't stopped him. It is what it is, and explaining to Bellamy isn't going to make him feel any more comfortable about it. Thus, it's surprising when Bellamy's the one to reply to his mental shout out, and some petty part of him wants to be snide about it, that kneejerk want to lash out at ones looking at what you are as a danger or a mistake, something that wouldn't have come to him at all, if it weren't for these exact circumstances. Luckily, Sam has better impulse control than his wife did. And manners. In general. ] ( Whatever the closest hospital is, probably. Check Extraspace, if we can get names we might be able to sneak in posing as family or friends. Maybe police. )

[ He doesn't imagine press will be allowed in. Detectives. At the latter part, Sam almost chuckles out loud, though it would've been something hollow and humorless. ]

( That was a joke. There's probably just a scrap pile. We'll need to check what VEN's procedures are for recycling. ) [ You know, taking the body parts of living things, melting them down, and forging them into new living things. Because that's not horrifying at all. Christ, Sam, keep your frakking head on straight. ]

[deployed]

[ It's not so cut and dried. He's afraid for Sam and of Sam, the way he'd been afraid of and afraid for Raven. Bellamy's best efforts don't offset the dictation of past experience, what registers irreversibly as dangerous to him. This isn't something he can pull Sam away from. It's a part of him. Bellamy can understand that in theory, but he thinks of ALIE, of Raven's inhuman rage, and can't help but fear that he'll one day see the same thing in Sam.

He's trying to keep it to himself. Trying and failing. Just one more reason why he needs to master the connection between himself and the rest of the nest.

There's a pause while he processes Sam's statements. Bellamy had posed as a guard before, worn a dead man's uniform for days. He's reasonably sure it would be easier to do that here, but he isn't leaping at the idea. He isn't even certain he should be intruding on Sam any further, but he posits another question. ]

( Do you need help? )

[ With something. With the rubble, with the crowd. He can sense the Darkling, but it feels important to offer. Bellamy can't quell his own emotions, but he can make an effort to bridge the divide they're causing. ]

[frakkincylons]

[ it's just unfortunate for bellamy that his mind is so loud, and that sam doesn't wall up like a lot of the rest of the nest does, so each bit of conflicted fear and concern he's accidentally bleeding out, sam gets, especially know that they're using the mental link. he can understand, when he calms himself down enough to. after all, sam remembers being human more than he does being cylon. remembers being part of the resistance, watching the bombs fall, the insurrection on new caprica.

you witness enough and it makes anger, resentment and fear really hard to let go of. pausing where he is, walking out of the crowd, he narrows the link down to be just between him and bellamy, leaving the others out for the moment, speaking to him with a mental tone that's soft, but a bit tired as well. ]

( Bellamy. It's been two thousand years, two nuclear holocausts, getting murdered once or twice and having my brain put through a technological blender. If I was gonna snap, believe me, it would've happened already. )

[ honestly, he's a little surprised he hasn't. though, sam largely assumes that's due to the symbiote, now, as that last part - going through the technological blender - had left his mind permanently scattered. he wasn't going to come out of that as anything but a vegetable, and thankfully, the symbiote keeps all that blocked out of his memories, along with what he was missing from the majority of those 2,000 years. if bellamy needs more explanation than that, he'll give it to him, but it's a long, long story. ]

( But to answer your question, yeah, I could use a hand. ) [ If for nothing else than giving the guy, and giving himself, something to do. just something beyond standing still and thinking of all the ways he's separate from the people around him. how he was, back on galactica. sam's always better when he has something to work on. ] ( What're your feelings on breaking and entering? )

[deployed]

[ Bellamy bristles, affronted by what he sees as Sam turning his face from something dangerous. It might be different, might function like the Flame, but Bellamy's first instinct is to neutralize what he thinks will put people he cares for, however tentatively, in danger.

But he doesn't know enough about Sam and how his particular brand of AI works to even begin to push from that. The worry lingers, backed by wariness, even as Bellamy tries to suppress it all. ]

( I've done it before, ) [ Mount Weather had been a crash course in infiltration, and Bellamy isn't sure whether or not the stakes here are higher or lower than that excursion. ] ( Where are you trying to break into? )

C, DAY :016

[onemind]

[There's a delay - a long, long, LONG delay. Six days is a long time in Concordia. Lots of things can and do happen. Bytes get turned over, flags get examined. Sam's lucky; Public Security tabs the activity as strange, but not criminal. Why would someone poke their nose in, take nothing, and simply backpedal out of an encrypted system. An accident? A practical joke, someone in PS says. They recommend the client beefs up their security protocols.

Meanwhile someone else gets nosy or impatient or decidedly curious.

The message appears in Sam's extraspace inbox at an uncomfortably early hour of the morning (a late hour of the night?); the attached avatar is a blinking blue eyeball leading to a suspiciously empty user ID profile. It was created ten minutes ago.]

WHAT WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE

>?

[frakkincylons]

[ Ass o'clock at night, thanks random person knocking on his virtual door. For a moment, Sam's rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and squinting at avatar, trying to place the symbol. He'll have to run a search for it later.

but for now, he has company, of the mostly anonymous variety. there's a few guesses. it'd been six days, and sam assumed the experiment was a bust. maybe not, but he's making sure this is actually something, before confirming anything. ]

MY NAP

YOU'LL HAVE TO BE MORE SPECIFIC

[onemind]

[A long delay - maybe enough to fall back asleep during -, then:]

YOU GOT FLAGGED : O

[frakkincylons]

[ He could fall asleep, but instead, he spends the wait trying to research this avatar, skimming through extraspace for anything that looks similar to the blinking blue eyeball. so he's not back to napping when the second message comes, fortunately, because apparently someone's aware of who does and doesn't get flagged. ]

: ( MY BAD

HOW'D YOU KNOW?

[onemind]

[A reverse google image search brings up a bunch of similar images and logos, but nothing exact. Most of the resemblances are probably incidental.]

BECAUSE YOU WERE OBVIOUS. I DONT NEED PS ACCESS TO KNOW YOU WERE

WHAT PLATFORM DO YOU RUN

>?