Eva Rosaliá Aldana Gutiérrez (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
adequacies) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
veilbreak2026-02-04 05:37 pm
adequacies) wrote in veilbreak2026-02-04 05:37 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
CHARACTERS: Eva & Cal, featuring rogue HDroids
WHAT: Recovering CPUs
WHEN: Today
WHERE: Xitang
WARNINGS: Some blood, violence
WHAT: Recovering CPUs
WHEN: Today
WHERE: Xitang
WARNINGS: Some blood, violence
The city of Xitang still breathes, which is the worst part.
Eva feels it in the way the wind tunnels through collapsed high-rises and comes back warm, like air from lungs. Half a city lies in ruins—broken teeth of concrete and rebar clawing at a bruised sky. The drones are still where they fell days ago, enormous insectile corpses slumped into streets and plazas, black metal split and peeled back like cracked shells.
“‘Half destroyed,’” she mutters as she crouches beside the first carcass. “This is optimistic bordering on delusional.”
Cal keeps watch while she works. She doesn’t have to look up to know it; she feels the weight of his attention on the street, steady and grounding. The drone’s hull is split open from a strike, its internals exposed—burned wiring, fractured armor, coolant dried into chalky white streaks. Eva climbs inside with practiced ease, boots clanging softly as she kneels by the central housing.
“CPU’s good,” she says. It’s a small piece of good news, a welcome win after the odd swirl of discontent that’s lingered from the day before.
She smiles over her shoulder, eyes bright.
The smile dies when the city answers with a distant metallic scrape.
Eva freezes.
Both of them turn toward the alley’s opening, but it’s empty—just rubble, shadows, and the echo of something dragging itself somewhere far away.
“Probably debris settling,” she says too quickly.
She sees Cal’s lips move and assumes agreement, but doubt settles on her shoulders anyway.
She pulls the CPU free with a grunt, slides it into a shock-lined case, and seals it. One down. Dislinked will be thrilled.
They move faster after that, weaving through broken streets toward the second drone. This one crashed into a canal, half-submerged, its bulk forming a dam of twisted metal and silt. The water around it glows faintly from leaking power cells, wrong in a way she doesn’t like.
They aren’t alone at the canal.
She realizes it when a shape detaches itself from the far bank then another. Helper androids, three of them, already waist-deep in the glowing water.
“Well,” Eva mutters, more tired than surprised. She wills her heartbeat to remain even, to keep her thoughts placid. “That complicates matters.”
The nearest helper android moves.
There is no shift in stance she can clock, no audible cue. One moment it’s standing waist-deep in glowing water, hands buried in the drone’s spine and the next it’s out, boots striking stone with a force that jolts the canal wall.
Cal barely has time to turn.
The android slams into him shoulder-first, driving him back into the rubble. Air punches out of his lungs. His heel skids, catches, and he goes down hard, the impact rattling through his spine.
Eva’s shout is cut short as the second helper lunges at her.
Not swinging. Not grappling. It barrels straight into her space, all momentum and mass, and she stumbles back, barely keeping her footing as the edge of the canal looms behind her. Her arms flail, catching uselessly at air.
The third is already moving.
It doesn’t charge. It angles, cuts off the street, cuts off escape, its head tracking her with clinical precision.
They didn’t announce themselves.
They didn’t hesitate.
They attacked.
Eva’s heart slams into overdrive as instinct finally kicks in. She twists sideways at the last second, dropping to one knee as the second helper’s hands close where her shoulders were a heartbeat earlier. Fingers scrape her pack instead, wrenching her sideways and dumping her hard onto the stone.
Pain flares sharp and hot, nausea immediately following.
She rolls without thinking, coming up against the drone wreckage, back pressed to cold metal. At the end of her leg her foot is twisted too far to be natural, limp and flaring with heat and icy shoots of pain.
“Cal!” she shouts.
He’s already moving—slowly, too slowly—hauling himself upright as the first helper advances again. Blood runs from his temple, warm and blinding. He blinks it away and raises his arms, bracing as the android grabs for him again.
This isn’t controlled.
This isn’t containment.
It’s force applied until resistance stops.
Cal slams his weight forward, shoulder into metal, buying just enough space to twist aside as the android overcommits. He stumbles but stays upright, breath ragged.
She scrambles along the drone’s hull, fingers slipping on scorched metal as the second helper closes in again. There’s no time to think—only react. She ducks low, slipping beneath its reach, feeling air move where its hands pass inches above her head.
The city roars around them.
Wind howls down the canal, rattling loose debris. The glowing water churns as another helper steps out, metal feet striking stone with steady inevitability.
Eva’s pulse pounds in her ears. No warning. No ramp-up. Just sudden, overwhelming intent.
They are going to be overrun.
“Stay up,” she pants, limping back towards her partner, eyes flicking wildly for anything—cover, leverage, space. “We can’t—”
“I know.”
The helpers advance again, tightening the distance.
Eva plants her feet, chest heaving, fear finally burning through her calm, not as panic, but clarity.
If they don’t act now, this ends here.
Not dramatically.
Just quietly, efficiently, with no one left to argue the claim.
The city breathes.
And the machines move closer.
Eva feels it in the way the wind tunnels through collapsed high-rises and comes back warm, like air from lungs. Half a city lies in ruins—broken teeth of concrete and rebar clawing at a bruised sky. The drones are still where they fell days ago, enormous insectile corpses slumped into streets and plazas, black metal split and peeled back like cracked shells.
“‘Half destroyed,’” she mutters as she crouches beside the first carcass. “This is optimistic bordering on delusional.”
Cal keeps watch while she works. She doesn’t have to look up to know it; she feels the weight of his attention on the street, steady and grounding. The drone’s hull is split open from a strike, its internals exposed—burned wiring, fractured armor, coolant dried into chalky white streaks. Eva climbs inside with practiced ease, boots clanging softly as she kneels by the central housing.
“CPU’s good,” she says. It’s a small piece of good news, a welcome win after the odd swirl of discontent that’s lingered from the day before.
She smiles over her shoulder, eyes bright.
The smile dies when the city answers with a distant metallic scrape.
Eva freezes.
Both of them turn toward the alley’s opening, but it’s empty—just rubble, shadows, and the echo of something dragging itself somewhere far away.
“Probably debris settling,” she says too quickly.
She sees Cal’s lips move and assumes agreement, but doubt settles on her shoulders anyway.
She pulls the CPU free with a grunt, slides it into a shock-lined case, and seals it. One down. Dislinked will be thrilled.
They move faster after that, weaving through broken streets toward the second drone. This one crashed into a canal, half-submerged, its bulk forming a dam of twisted metal and silt. The water around it glows faintly from leaking power cells, wrong in a way she doesn’t like.
They aren’t alone at the canal.
She realizes it when a shape detaches itself from the far bank then another. Helper androids, three of them, already waist-deep in the glowing water.
“Well,” Eva mutters, more tired than surprised. She wills her heartbeat to remain even, to keep her thoughts placid. “That complicates matters.”
The nearest helper android moves.
There is no shift in stance she can clock, no audible cue. One moment it’s standing waist-deep in glowing water, hands buried in the drone’s spine and the next it’s out, boots striking stone with a force that jolts the canal wall.
Cal barely has time to turn.
The android slams into him shoulder-first, driving him back into the rubble. Air punches out of his lungs. His heel skids, catches, and he goes down hard, the impact rattling through his spine.
Eva’s shout is cut short as the second helper lunges at her.
Not swinging. Not grappling. It barrels straight into her space, all momentum and mass, and she stumbles back, barely keeping her footing as the edge of the canal looms behind her. Her arms flail, catching uselessly at air.
The third is already moving.
It doesn’t charge. It angles, cuts off the street, cuts off escape, its head tracking her with clinical precision.
They didn’t announce themselves.
They didn’t hesitate.
They attacked.
Eva’s heart slams into overdrive as instinct finally kicks in. She twists sideways at the last second, dropping to one knee as the second helper’s hands close where her shoulders were a heartbeat earlier. Fingers scrape her pack instead, wrenching her sideways and dumping her hard onto the stone.
Pain flares sharp and hot, nausea immediately following.
She rolls without thinking, coming up against the drone wreckage, back pressed to cold metal. At the end of her leg her foot is twisted too far to be natural, limp and flaring with heat and icy shoots of pain.
“Cal!” she shouts.
He’s already moving—slowly, too slowly—hauling himself upright as the first helper advances again. Blood runs from his temple, warm and blinding. He blinks it away and raises his arms, bracing as the android grabs for him again.
This isn’t controlled.
This isn’t containment.
It’s force applied until resistance stops.
Cal slams his weight forward, shoulder into metal, buying just enough space to twist aside as the android overcommits. He stumbles but stays upright, breath ragged.
She scrambles along the drone’s hull, fingers slipping on scorched metal as the second helper closes in again. There’s no time to think—only react. She ducks low, slipping beneath its reach, feeling air move where its hands pass inches above her head.
The city roars around them.
Wind howls down the canal, rattling loose debris. The glowing water churns as another helper steps out, metal feet striking stone with steady inevitability.
Eva’s pulse pounds in her ears. No warning. No ramp-up. Just sudden, overwhelming intent.
They are going to be overrun.
“Stay up,” she pants, limping back towards her partner, eyes flicking wildly for anything—cover, leverage, space. “We can’t—”
“I know.”
The helpers advance again, tightening the distance.
Eva plants her feet, chest heaving, fear finally burning through her calm, not as panic, but clarity.
If they don’t act now, this ends here.
Not dramatically.
Just quietly, efficiently, with no one left to argue the claim.
The city breathes.
And the machines move closer.