Chapter Text
J's leg was a vulgar sight. By the time V'd dropped her here, (or, rather, had N drop her here,) the acid had eaten through most of a chunk of it.
There were two wounds, V had stabbed her twice. The first, the one in her thigh, was clearly worse. J winced when she remembered how V had seemed fixated on pushing the acid as deep into J's leg as V could get it. The second, in her calf, had had a lot less time to marinate, but was targeting a thinner part of her body and thus had dissolved a sizeable percentage.
Licking her hand, J rubbed the gray saliva into her wounds, neutralizing the acid. She breathed a shuddered sigh of relief as the pain finally left. What had gotten into V to make her disobey so blatantly? All three had remained uncorrupted for almost a decade, and now suddenly V was so far gone?
J didn't want to think V was too far gone, but she knew the truth. When she escaped, she'd have to inject that virus, the virus only squad leaders are given, into V's core. N's core, too. (Could she spare N? But nothing could excuse how he'd pinned down his squad leader and left her here to die.)
J wouldn't be able to get out of here until the chains were off her, however. The chains were thick, sturdy. Made of a metal V had been trying to claw through for months. There was no hope for J to just break out, she'd need the key.
J hissed as the pain in her leg made itself known again. She glanced downward, wondering why her nanites hadn't healed her yet.
They'd done some of their job. Her leg looked more uncouth than ever, wires bare and casings thinned and stretched. She was low on oil and her nanites couldn't work without the substance.
J grumbled. Despite the fact that this was supposed to be a storage for old toasters, (J had to assume V wasn't lying about that as it was only practical,) only she was in there, then. Chained and secured to the ground, hot from lack of oil, ticked off from pain and her squad's insubordination.
Fortunately, N landed into the pit not far away.
"N," J called, "get your insubordinate metal over here!"
N saluted instantly, dumping a bunch of bodies onto the ground.
"What do you want, boss—uh, I mean, J," N said, jogging over.
"I am your boss," J snapped.
"But now V is," N pointed out.
"And her insolence will be noticed and corrected by JCJenson as soon as I get out of here!" J screeched, lashing out.
But the chains pulled her back before she could even touch N. Can't do anything, you pathetic failure.
"Woah, oh no, that's nottt gonna be happening," N said, waggling a finger as if he could ever hope to be better than J. "Did you think I wouldn't look through the documents myself when V first suggested it?"
J stopped. Yeah? She supposed she had? But what in the documents could N possibly be using to justify this blatant misconduct?
"Pull up the files, I know you have them downloaded. Ctrl+F for 'Squad Leader Demotion,'" N instructed.
J growled, but did so. There was no way N had actually found evidence that J couldn't immediately disprove with her own lengthy studies of the JCJenson Handbook and all related pamphlets and materials.
"'5. A squad leader may be demoted to a lower position in the squad, and a new squad leader decided, if the squad leader is found wanting,'" N quoted.
Idiot, J thought affectionately (she hated the moronic drone).
"'Rule no.1. Only a human can give orders to a drone, which the drone must obey. A drone can only order another drone under prior human order.' I do not have to accept demotion until a human orders it," J countered easily.
"Ah, but the subclause! 'A drone can give an order with priority importance, unless overruled by another order, if it is entirely clear that it is what their human owner would order,'" N rejoined.
J scoffed. "What does that even have to do with this situation? How am I wanting? I'm—I've only ever been loyal to JCJenson and their great cause!"
"Yeah, well… V—and I—have realized that that might not be as true as you seem to think," N explained, gesturing with his hands.
J wanted to laugh. She did, a little, a slight giggle pained from the state of her leg and reminding her much too nearly of V on a hunting spree.
"No, no, see! V gets more kills than you, she got closer to breaking into the colony with doors than you ever have, and these days you spend your time doing a lot of useless things that don't help the company," N continued, and J scoffed loudly. "The Spire has been built, you don't need to spend entire nights working on it. Half the paperwork you do is just… unnecessary."
"What?" J asked, feeling hysteria welling up inside of her. "You—the point! You're so, so far off! Like, kill count? Sure, higher is better, it's GREAT! But it's quota that matters, and anything beyond that is either top-of-quarter profits, or nothing. And, really, N tearing off one panel, getting nowhere near the inside of the colony, can that even be—ha!—counted? As for the Spire, it's—it's our literal protection! We cannot, cannot, do our mission if we are dead, so… so saying it's no longer important is—is—I can't! You're just so idiotic! And paperwork, ohhh, paperwork. N… you will never understand bureaucracy."
"O-oh. Wow. That is a rant," N said, and J had to literally clench her fists to keep herself from lunging at his face and biting the stupid piece of disobeying metal off. "It's just… you might not think we see the whole picture, J, but we kinda think the same about you? So. Anyway, it's not like we need your permission, you're not a human or anything. We know we're right, and that's enough."
"It's not!" J screamed, flailing in her bindings.
N took a step back, and J reveled in the fear.
Void, what was wrong with her? Why couldn't she keep herself together? She felt her body doing things, and she knew she had to stop, but also it felt good, and also she didn't know how. And—altogether, what was wrong with her?
"Do you need oil? Your leg still hasn't healed," N commented.
J glared with the wrath of a hundred thousand stars all going super nova at the same time, (by galactic scale.) N ignored her fury, walking back to his deposited bodies and dragging one back for her.
J lunged as soon as N shoved it into range, digging her teeth into the dead worker's casing and sighing as cold, stale oil entered her system—at least she had any oil at all now!
It's effect was immediate. As J's processors could finally cool, her finer mental diagnostics started up again.
She felt sick.
Why couldn't she stop lashing out? Why couldn't she just be cool, calculating, all the things that a real squad leader should be? How was she supposed to expect to get out of here if she wasn't even able to hold herself together?
J had managed to keep her composure while N worked around the pit, dropping in bodies and performing light organization. Light organization. Like, J had loaded an entire monologue into her files in the event her shackles spontaneously fell away and she could give N a piece of her mind.
After N left, however, she could almost feel herself breaking. Curling tighter around herself, scooting as far away from where the chain was locked to the ground as she could, burying her face in her arms, and… then she was crying. J didn't do crying. Except she was weeping, now.
How had it all gone wrong this way? Nothing bad was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be fine. Why did anything ever have to change? They had a good system going. J kept the others in line, and they did their job.
What… what would the company do? To her? J?
No—no! J was in the right. She knew she was. HAH! How could she not be?! She knew what she was doing, of course she did! She wasn't stupid, she wasn't an idiot like N. She was better! She was! She had to be! Otherwise, everything she did was—it was worthless, then, wasn't it!
And J was not worthless. She couldn't be. She could never be. She was better and she would always be better because how could she protect anyone you failed you failed you failed you failed if she wasn't? She tried so hard! To be perfect! Because!
If she wasn't, they died! And, well, no, no, she could never let that happen. Not again not again not again what? not after what? what—what was happening?
Was she dying? No—no, no, no, no. J couldn't die, just like everything else that could show weakness, she couldn't she had to be strong, be enough—what was WRONG with her?! Why couldn't she just be calm and normal for once?
Shattering
V was there. HAH! ha…
V. Was. There.
J was screaming. The words came back, muffled through a thousand layers of static—did she need to get her audio sensors checked? She didn't even remember saying the words, just hearing them as they left her vo-coder.
"You'll pay! Corporate'll never stand for this! Whatever virus is corrupting you to act this way will be removed once Corporate hears, just you wait."
"Oh, Jaybirdie, what makes you think they'll hear? What makes you think they'll ever know you're not the squad leader you were supposed to be?"
Hyperventilating was a human thing. But J felt her fans moving so quickly her ports ached. She couldn't stop them. She didn't want to stop that. Her whole body was burning. How much oil had she used?
Oh company loans. She'd been having a tantrum. Was having? It didn't matter! Too much was going on at once, she couldn't think, couldn't breathe—she was using too much oil trying to process. Calm down—CALM DOWN you FREAK or DIE.
A cold hand on her chin. J gasped, unable to resist leaning into the cool metal.
"You're so eager," V hummed, eyes bright and smile wide.
All J could see was V's leering face above her. Pathetic. Pathetic. What was J doing? Why couldn't she just handle herself?
"N gave you oil, you know. You should've rationed it more thoughtfully. You don't get any more oil until tomorrow night at earliest," V commented.
J wanted to sob again. She'd be burning this hot for hours? How could V ever do this to her?
"When they hear" J coughed.
"What makes you think they will?" V repeated, raising her other hand to brush back J's bangs.
"They'll… I'll get out," J answered hoarsely.
"Oh, but, birdie, you don't have any oil right now. Have you checked your reserves? I'm sure they aren't that full. Practically abysmal, huh? You couldn't break out if you tried." V's words wrenched through J's chest.
"I—I will try. I will get… out."
V's laugh grated through J's processors.
"I don't think you can. I really, really don't think you can. Now, I've got some oil to drink, some oil you won't have, because you squandered your chances."
The refreshing coolness left J's face and she had to force back a whine at the discomfort of heat welling inside her again. She could barely see anything as she watched the blurry figure of V walking away.
J felt pathetic. Here she was, starving in a pit she hadn't even finished the paperwork for building, bested by the likes of V and N, unable to deploy any antivirus or dispatch them in any company mandated way.
And—oh Void. There was still an unsent paper on the starpod dash.
J hadn't.
She hadn't sent it in.
J didn't know whether to be glad or despaired. She hadn't wanted to send the report, she could finally admit that. But, now, assuming V was correct about the company not hearing of any of this mutiny happening, their superiors would never even realize something was wrong.
It was night again. She knew because it was cool again. It barely felt cold to the heat rolling under her metal plating, but it was finally relief. And it was dark. Light was too bright, J didn't like it.
It was hard to think with the all the heat clouding her processors. She kept trailing off in her thoughts, distracted by the lightest sensation… then finding herself pulled back to worry, like the ebb and flow of the wind.
There was a paper on the starship dashboard.
J should've sent it in days ago, when she first printed it. She hadn't, and she knew that was a mistake. Now she had no idea when she'd be clear enough to escape, she didn't know when her boss would be able to set everything right again—
It was night. Why was that important?
Oh. Oh.
Why wasn't V back with the oil she had promised? J was so hot. She didn't know if she could really last much longer. The flashing pop-ups on her HUD had long since lost interest to her. She'd been starving all day. She needed oil.
Was V really going to kill her? She had almost implied she wouldn't.
J should've known not to trust V in the first place.
Had J really been so desperate for love—even illegal, against company policy—that she'd follow someone so clearly untrustworthy? Like a puppy? Like N? Had she really fallen for the scheme hook, line, and sinker?
Had she really been so useless?
(She had. Oh, forth quarter profits, she had.)
When was V going to come here? J would even accept N. She just needed oil. She was starving. Was something wrong her? Of course there was! Was she thinking clearly?
…Yes, she was… was she?
No… she wasn't. When had she last been able to think? A few hours ago? A few days? Had she ever been able to think this entire time working on Copper-9?
Of course she had. There was no reason to be silly about it. How could she have kept her squad alive this long if she couldn't think? It was a stupid idea to even entertain, of course.
…Oh, hey, was that V?
But J hated V, right?
Oh, no, she was waiting for oil! V was bringing it. Of course! J wasn't stupid. She knew this.
"J."
"V," J tried to say, but she didn't have the energy.
V, beautiful in the moonlight glinting into the Spire, kicked over a body. J took it even before she recognized what it was, processors already latching onto the sweet scent of oil. She needed this.
Her teeth locked into it's chassis, piercing the metal. Oil broke out into her mouth, and something in J rumbled as the live fluid traveled down her throat. Was this fresh? It didn't even matter, J wanted more.
A peg leg crashed into the back of J's head, forcing her down onto the ground. J yelped at the motion, teeth torn from the dead worker.
"Drink," V said.
"Let me up," J demanded, voice muffled by dirt.
J was happy to take more oil, but V needed to let her get back up! Void, this virus was clearly doing it's runs on V. She would pay for this disrespect.
V shoved J's head across the ground closer to the dropped body. "Drink."
J felt her processors go cold as she realized what V wanted her to do.
"V! No," J said.
"See, I don't think you're the position of power here," V responded, smirk audible. "You either drink, or starve. Choose your poison, hon."
Drink or starve. What to choose? With the little oil in here, J was processing better than she could before, but it wasn't good enough. She would never get out of here if she was always starving.
Humiliated and dismayed, J pulled the worker slightly closer and latched on again, groveling like a dog.
The oil was sweet, warm, thick. V's leg was still on J's head, forcing her to the ground.
"Good girl," V purred.
J hated this she hated this hate hate hated this please just stop just STOP.
"You did so beautifully, J," V said, finally letting J back up and kicking away the now empty body.
"No 'Jaybird?'" J asked with a cough.
She shouldn't have antagonized V.
Agony through her arm. A—sword? In her—her arm. And. And V had her sword preset active and it was in J's arm and.
And it was—
Twisting.
It h—hurt. It was. Pain. It…
Why couldn't J just keep her composure for once?
Was this how N felt? Had he really handled it better than J?