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Part 1 of Cowboys and Aliens
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2016-11-21
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2016-11-23
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2/7
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A Curious Remembering of Cowboys and Aliens

Summary:

Josh kicks a lone dead bot's head across the floor and nods, shoving his hands in his synthsuit pockets. "Beam me up Scotty."

 

I do not understand this reference, Faraday. What purpose would I have to beam you? It sounds painful and counter productive

 

Josh sighs. "We're really going to have to work on your human culture apps. Star Trek is a classic."

Notes:

So this honestly is all Kat's fault. I mentioned having an idea for pretty much "gay cowboys in space featuring aliens and super powers" and she offered to BETA read. And I being the person I am couldn't resist a horse like that.

Anyway long story short, this idea has become way more complicated than I ever expected and holy fudge nuggets I'm writing origin stories.

These are short one shots to help establish all the main chaps in the fic this is a companion too aka the fic I should be writing but origin scenes called instead.

ENJOY!

(Also if you haven't read and/or seen Kat's lovely fic series: Luck of the Draw you all need to do that. it's fucking amazing! Her Varaday is just too on point and I strive and pray and hope that my building of that complicated relationship hits even a fraction of the beauty she managed to portray)

TW: Psychological torture and semi-loss of identity

P.S: Reuploading cause... it wasn't showing up? So yea hopefully now it will.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Faraday

Chapter Text

 

1.

 

They want him to move the block. That's it. That's what the AI told him to do. Just an inch. No. Just a shiver. A quake. A wobble. Something. Anything. The AI promised the creators weren't monsters. Just do that and they'll finally let him go. Final-- Fina-- Fine... Okay... Promise. Josh's head lolls to the side. He'll do it... By God will he do it, just...

 

It's weird... He thinks groggily, lips cracked and tongue a useless lump of leather in his mouth...  But hope tastes bitter on his buds... Gritty and raw in the back of his throat... It's turned into a  hefty thing... Heavy and cold like a stone in the pit of his stomach... Doing absolutely nothing to  make the hunger go away... But... Okay... Okay...

 

<<Subject #1015198211>> The AI says.

 

He'll do it. He'll do it... Just... let him rest his eyes for a minute... Just for a god damned minute...

 

Let his mind clear a bit... All he asks for--

 

<<Subject #1015198211>> the inflection-less voice intones again. Loudly. <<Repeat: we request your cooperation in tele-communicating with the cube>> He scoffs.

 

Fuck. You.

 

Josh lifts his head. The vibrations pulsing in the air are strong, like little ghosting fingers all over his body, and he knows that if there was anything left in his stomach, anything at all, he'd be sick all over again.

 

<<Subject #1015-->>

 

"I hear ya' the first time." He rasps, glaring weakly up at the corner of the room he imagines the AI is speaking from. His voice is barely more than a whisper, scratchy and hoarse from disuse.

 

<<Processing>> The AI says.

 

There's a pause, a moment of stillness that has Josh lowering his head and closing his eyes. He cherishes it, relishing in the feeling of blissful relief as the lights dim, the vibrations falling to a dull hum in the background...

 

He can hear the birds around him singing and ain't that a bit funny... birds... out in the... the...  wherever the hell he is... Wedding bells are chiming down by the... what did he call it...  Chimney... No... Ch... Ch... Church... Ya... Church... Laughter like spring water rushing up to his  parched ears... Air as crisp and fresh as anything, on his face--

 

<<Proceed>>

 

Josh jerks in place, blinking a few hazy times at his surroundings before remembering just where he is. The room. The white room. In the fucking chair.

 

Fuck the both of 'em .

 

He wants to sleep so bad he could cry.

 

Forcing his head up for what feels like the billionth time, Josh trains his eyes on what's in front of him. It's not big--the block, that damnable block--just a two inch by two inch polished hunk of wood sitting lonely atop a spotless white table. It should be easy--simply reach out and grab it, toss it at the fuckers he knows are behind the tinted glass across from him--but it isn't. He can't.

 

Arms locked at his sides, wires and electrodes placed across the exposed skin of his chest, his legs completely immobilized, held steadfast by a series of cuffs bracketing up from his shins to the meat of his thighs--grabbing the damn thing is the last thing on his mind. Which is ironic. Considering that's exactly how they expect him to move it.

 

With his fucking mind.

 

It's the scent of jasmine mixed with ozone that smells like home to him... Hair the same rusty red- brown as his... Hands delicate... And small... And rough with a complexion fair enough to be the  parent mirror to his own milky tone... Carding those fingers against his scalp...Do a thing once... Her voice whispers into his hair... Well... He's really feeling that one now isn't he...

 

<<Subject #1015198211>>

 

"Alrigh', alright, give a guy a minute would ya?" Josh slurs tiredly from his metal prison. He frowns, scrunching his nose and sniffing as he tries to alleviate the ungodly itch there. His fingers flex weakly in their confines. He can't take much more of this. He needs to get out of here.

 

<<Proceed>>

 

Glaring once more at the corner of the room, Josh closes his eyes, taking a grounding breath and trying to ignore just how much his eyes want to stay closed. Christ almighty, Josh doesn't think he's ever been this tired in his life...

 

<<Subject #1015198211: We are not detecting any change in your brain activity; please proceed with the exercise>>

 

He grits his teeth, ignoring how the simple action pulls at the raw skin of his forehead, the cranial cap shifting uncomfortably where it's screwed into his brain.

 

"W'ats this thing really for, huh?" Josh mumbles as he tries to reach that spot inside of him that's new and different and so so alien, "gonna flip the switch and blow mah head sky high? Gonna fuckin' 'terminate' me if I get too rowdy for ya?"

 

It's silent but that's not really a surprise. Besides it's an answer enough in and of itself now isn't it.

 

He imagines the block, imagines breaking it, moving it, crushing it—absolutely destroying it. Imagines how that would feel, the rush of power, of control it would give him if he could do that to something, anything, else. To make it feel the same way he did. The same way he does.

 

Nothing happens. The alien thing inside him stays silent, a faucet turned off and just out of reach.

 

"Maybe that's what I should do huh?" Josh says to no one in particular. His breathing is ragged but his words are clear enough. There's blood pounding in his ears, the bitter taste of hope burning up and boiling, surging into something new, something different, something nasty and violent and so so red…

 

Scraped up knees... and stinging pride... Knuckles red and throbbing... Medicine denied to make  him heal the old way... With antiseptic and bandages and a prayer… Painful and long and dirty... You never did know when to leave a thing alone ... She says voice tight and full of quiet  disapproval... You're lucky your daddy ain't here... he'd tan your silly hide...

 

"Get angry. Start screamin'. Make ya have to kill me. Yeah,” Josh huffs out a laugh and opens his eyes. “Kill me,” he whispers, staring at the dark, black, opaque glass in front of him.

 

Nothing.

 

“Kill me,” he says again, louder this time, that red thing in his stomach rearing its head and punching his insides hot like a match. “I can’t do it so just kill me!” His body strains against his confines, needle sharp pinpricks of pain running across his skin.

 

“Kill me ya fuckin’ cowards!”

 

Silence.

 

The intercom buzzes.

 

Then.

 

<< Subject #1015198211: If you are quite finished, the Creators have decided to abort the test>>

 

Josh’s eyes widen.

 

<<Enjoy your extended stay in the White Room>>

 

No.

 

<<Goodbye>>

 

“No.”

 

Not another day… Not another night... He can’t take it… He won’t make it… He can’t do what they want… Can’t do what they ask… Tired so tired… let him sleep… Lights too bright… That stupid vibrating thrumming beat making him sick to his stomach… Hungry… Thirsty… Lips dry as a desert… stomach empty as… as… he doesn’t know but… No more… No more… No more… Jasmine and ozone and kindness and scolding… Love and gentle reprimand… No more… No more… No more… You do a thing once… Never did know when to let a thing go… No… No… No… No… No… It’s panic pure and simple and… Eat… Sleep… Drink… No… More… No more…

 

The cuffs snap first. Then the stupid cranial cap. Then all the little wires and electrodes that had been taking their damn readings fling themselves off his body like so much dust in the wind. His head’s pounding, drumming, Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! And it hurts, it fucking hurts, this strange alien and powerful thing twisting itself inside of him and he doesn’t care. He doesn’t fucking care. It feels right. It feels powerful like a candle getting lit by a blow torch and melting way too damn fast but hell if it isn’t a bright beauty.

 

Distantly he hears screaming. Distantly he feels blood dripping down his face. From the holes in his head and from his ear canals. From his nostrils and out of the corners of his mouth. Coughing up blood. Drowning in blood. He’s killing himself and that only makes him try harder.

 

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

 

He imagines ripping the chair out of the ground and balling it up like the piece of useless trash it is. It does, metal screeching and bending at odd angles like something out of one of those old, scary holovids he’d sometimes watch. He throws it across the room, the table flattening like a pancake, while the cube stands immobile and pristine floating in the air by some unseen force. By the terrifying alien thing inside of him. By Josh.

 

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

 

“Ya want your fuckin’ cube?!” He grabs it, yanking it towards himself with that alien thing in him, lips curled into an animal’s snarl. Josh lifts his head. His nose is running like a river, his breathing coming out in wheezing huffs, and he has to keep blinking to keep the blood and spots out of his eyes, but it’s worth it. So worth it. He’s at the end of his rope, a pool of wax over a weakly flickering wick, but that’s okay, there’s only one more thing he has to do.

 

“Ya can have it.”

 

The cube goes flying, spinning towards that opaque glass like a cannon, a guttural scream ripping itself from his lungs. Glass goes flying. Splinters of wood mix with the debris. Josh collapses on the ground, boneless, a puppet with its strings cut, power tapping out, the candle burning out.

 

<< Subject #1015198211: Congratulations>>

 

His vision is blurring, splotchy at the edges. His mouth is full of the taste of iron. All he can smell is copper.

 

<<You have passed the test>>

 

The last thing he remembers is seeing something moving in that space behind where the glass used to be, something scaly and serpentine and tough like leather. Josh closes his eyes and hopes that it’ll be for the last time.

 

2.

 

It isn’t.

 

3.

 

They pump him full of drugs. He gets flashes of things, then and gone so fast that he loses track of what is real and what just isn't. It doesn't matter anyway. He's never getting out.

 

4.

 

It feels like it never stops. He remembers less and less every time. He hangs onto that like the blessing he knows it is.

 

5.

 

Josh cries.

 

6.

 

<< Subject #1015198211: Can you hear me? I would like to make a deal>>

Chapter 2: Faraday

Summary:

"A deal?" Josh--at least he thinks that's his name (and isn't that a scary thought)--mumbles. "What kind of deal we talkin' bout?"
 
The kind that is singularly beneficial to you

  Josh licks his lips, scrunching his nose and tapping an idle finger against the floor in front of him. His eyes track the movement lazily. "I'm not gonna get blown up for talkin' to ya am I?"

Notes:

Hey all!

So I just wanted to say THANK YOU to everyone who's read, bookmarked, kudos and commented on this outlandish brainchild of mine. It means a TON. And so here it is. The second and final half of Faraday's origin arc.

Note: later on aka when I get to the companion fic to this, I'll probably go back and do some solo Faraday side stories in his time between now and when he joins the 7 in the sequel. This is just because his growth is personally really interesting to me and well you'll see what I mean.

Tumblr: addlcted2words (L not an i)
Twitter: ArchangelSings
YouTube (if you wanna see me sing and deep on videogames): ArchangelSings/childofmaka

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

7.

"A deal?" Josh--at least he thinks that's his name (and isn't that a scary thought)--mumbles. "What kind of deal we talkin' bout?"

<<The kind that is singularly beneficial to you>>

Josh licks his lips, scrunching his nose and tapping an idle finger against the floor in front of him. His eyes track the movement lazily. "I'm not gonna get blown up for talkin' to ya am I?"

<<Would you like to make the deal>> The AI repeats.

Repeat... Repeat... Repeat... Subject #blahblahblah... Always repeating--

Josh remains curled half-assed on the floor.

<<And no. You will not be...'blown up'... for talking to me>>

"Mmm," Josh hums, ignoring the faint brush of air he can feel prickling gooseflesh across the exposed skin of his shoulder. He remembers ripping his synthsuit, a vague echo of that red hot punch of anger coiling itself in knots in his chest and...

Gone. It's gone. The memory slips between the porous fabric of his mind like water. 

"That sounds awful shady, mister." He grunts, reaching his free hand up to massage his temples. He can feel a migraine coming on.

<<Your suspicion is warranted>>

Josh scoffs.

<<But I can offer you something you would be debatably foolish to refuse>>

With trembling arms Josh pushes himself into a sitting position, subconsciously leaning into one of the four corners of the room and crossing an arm over his chest. The other remains on the floor, tapping a nonsense rhythm against it. "And what's that?"

<<Freedom>>

The tapping stops. Then starts up again. 

"Why?"

<<You have no reason to believe me. This could be a test set by the creators. A fabrication to rekindle your hope. I can not assure you one way or another that is not the case. It is within my parameters to lie>>

Josh shakes his head, lips curving up into a dark echo of a smirk, "Why are you telling me this? S'not really helping ya."

<<I beg to differ>> The AI intones. <<Honesty brokers trust. I have no secrets to hide and as such share all of them to allow you to make the most informed decision>>

"Okay."

<<I have become invested in your well being Subject #1015198211 and would like to impress upon you that this is likely your only chance at continued survival and escape>>  The AI continues.

"Okay," Josh says again, louder this time, "ya got a deal but," Josh shifts into a more comfortable position and brings both arms up to rest in his lap, "stop calling me Subject Number one-oh-blah-blah-blah. It's degrading see."

<<Processing>>

Josh rolls his eyes.

<<Will Faraday suffice>>

"My name's Josh," Josh furrows his brow. "Why Faraday?"

<<It is your surname: Faraday. In a show of good faith I am giving it back to you>>

"Oh," Josh blinks, "Faraday huh?" He speaks it like a prayer, reverential, and feeling the way the letters curl round his lips. "Joshua Faraday."

He likes it. Likes the way it rolls off his tongue. Likes the way the name just... fits. Like a missing piece to a jigsaw puzzle. It makes him feel that little bit more real. That little bit more human. Makes him more than that foreign alien thing swirling inside of him.

"Yeah," Josh says, biting his lip. One of his fingers starts tapping against his inner thigh, "yeah, Faraday's just fine."

 

8.

The AI 'leaves' soon after that. 

<<In three days>> It says <<your door will open. Be ready>>

Josh settles down to wait.

9.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully.

10.

<<Are you experiencing discomfort Subject #1015198211?>> A med-bot asks, slapping the last grafting patch to the back of his neck. Josh has to bite back the sudden urge to yelp.

"No shit!" Josh hisses through clenched teeth, glaring up at the silvery oblong robot hovering beside him. This one has one singular 'eye' and it glows a passive, unwavering red down at him. Josh gets the feeling it's distinctly unimpressed. Well fuck you tin face. 

<<That is unfortunate>> The med-bot adjusts the graft with a clamp like hand and Josh turns his face away, shoving his pillow between his teeth in a vain attempt to stifle another groan. <<Would you like me to administer another sedative?>>

"Does it require more fuckin' needles?" He moans.

<<Yes>> He hears the sound of  the med-bot trading out its syringe arm <<It is the most direct method of distribution>>

More needles... more pain... More pain... more grafts... More grafts... more pain... 

God-dammit.

"Then no."

The bot pats him on the neck.

"You're a fucking sadist."

<<I do not feel and therefore can not be a sadist. Is there anything else you require?>>

Josh waves an arm dismissively. Then instantly regrets it, letting out a pained grunt as the motion pulls on one of the grafts. "Get the hell outta here."

<<Very well. Have a pleasant evening Subject #1015198211. You have endurance testing in the morning>>

Josh hums in acknowledgment and the med-bot finally retreats through the little hole in the ceiling it came from. He lets out a sigh of relief, body curling up into a sweaty, miserable, feverish lump on his too small bed. He groans.

"Dammit!"

Josh blinks groggily, disoriented and sort of abstractly pissed off in the way he feels all people are after spending the better part of an hour getting stabbed by needles filled with fluids he can't even begin to pronounce. The AI told him it was medicine, injections to help boost his immune system and stimulate...something to do with his brain but he has his doubts. Nothing helpful should burn this bad. Besides, didn't the AI say something about lying just yesterday? Josh is pretty sure it did. He can usually trust his memory that far back at least. Another wave of pain strikes and Josh shoves his cheek into his over starched pillow.

That's when he sees the package.

Like always it feels like there's cotton stuffed between his ears and the beginnings of a migraine stuffed somewhere else between that and usually the combination's enough to make him doubt half the things he sees. Still. Josh blinks again, eyes trained on the table and the small package on top of it. Everything's edged with that dream-like post injection film, and all he wants to do is sleep it (and the aches) off, but-- He gingerly pats the inflamed skin on the back of his neck, the shots between the axis and atlas vertebrae of his spine are always particularly bothersome and that certainly hurt like a bitch--

The package is still there.

Okay then.

Raising a hand, the alien power inside him flairs to life, sparking around his fingertips in dull iridescent ribbons. It's stronger than it was, more violent and razor edged, but he can still make it do this much. It's easy to imagine, to see it stretching and expanding, reaching the table and cradling the little package in its otherworldly grip. And it does. Woom! Wum! Woom! Wum! Woom! Wum! It seems to hum, a gently cresting wave against the shore. Josh sniffs and reels it back in, the package floating through the air into his open palm. He wipes his other hand across his nose. It comes away dry. Not even a trickle of blood this time. Josh turns his attention back to the package, flipping it over onto its side with a few deft fingers.

To Faraday, it reads in a weird looking blocky font. Frowning, he opens the box. Josh gapes at what's inside.

 It's a deck of cards. Unopened. And odd of all, vintage. Paper stopped being produced almost a century ago. It had to be worth a fortune. How--?

<<Do you like them? My observations have noted a lack of cognitive stimulation in your daily routine that may be hampering your overall growth. Extensive research has shown me that cards have many games that could help promote abstract thinking>>

"Yeah I," Josh licks his lips, fingers drumming in a line across their unmarked edges. "I love 'em. Thanks."

<<There is no need to thank me. As I have stated, I am merely invested in your well-being, Faraday>>

Josh huffs out a breath, gentle smile curling into the dip of his elbow. "Well still. Thanks."

<<It is no trouble Faraday. Now would you like to learn how to play solitaire? It is an old human card game originating from the 18th century that can be played by yourself>>

Josh is tired and achy and really just wants to sleep but--

"Sure," Josh says, flipping over the first card in the deck. Jack of clubs. Hmm, "teach away."

<<Very well>>

11.

He decides to call the AI Jack. It's strangely fitting and the AI doesn't care one way or another.

12.

(Nothing happens the second day. Not really. Josh toys with his cards, playing solitaire and making castles until endurance testing where he's forced to use that alien thing inside of him. They only let him stop when his eyes are red and dripping with blood, crimson trails flowing freely from his nose, eyes and mouth, anger and words like venom mixing into the white floor below.)

13.

There's a hot meal waiting for him when he gets back, woozy and bone-tired in a way no human should have to be. Josh stares at the steaming plate, the first one he ever remembers seeing in this place (not that that means much all things considered), on that lonely white table and cries.

14.

"Thank you, Jack."

<<You require adequate strength for tomorrow>>

"Just... take the damn thank you."

<<Very well. You are welcome Faraday>>

15.

D-Day. Day three. There's a...watch...thing on the table when he wakes up. Jack tells him to put it on so he does.

16.

<<Are you ready, Faraday?>>

"Open the door, Jack."

<<Understood. Looping camera feed... Loop complete. Rerouting patrols... Reroute complete. We have approximately five minutes before complimentary AI discover the discrepancy. Let us make haste>>

17.

The door opens. This is really happening.

18.

Josh takes a tentative step outside, clinging to the wall, his bare feet pad lightly across the tile like he expects the floor to swallow him whole. Nothing happens. The hallway is empty. He lets out a sigh of relief.

<<Are you wearing the communicator?>>

Josh jumps, Jack's voice over loud and echoey in the hall. "Was that an actual question?" Josh drawls, a nervous tremor in his voice, "color me impressed Jack." 

 <<Please respond>>

Josh rolls his eyes, hand straying to the breast pocket of his synthsuit, the pocket he'd taken to stashing his cards. His fingers drum an idle beat against them, grounding himself in the solid weight of the rhythm. "Still need to work on your humor protocols I see."

<<This is not the time for games Faraday>>

He lifts his hands in surrender. "Yes, if it's the watch thing, I have it."

<<Good. I need you to activate the channel. That way I will be able to communicate directly to you and avoid drawing undo attention to ourselves>>

"Okay..." Josh says, drawing out the word and squinting down at the apparent communicator on his wrist. Certainly isn't a model he's familiar with. "Let me just--"

<<Tap the interface>>

"You mean the screen?"

<<Yes>>

Josh does and watches as the screen flickers to life, projecting in a semi circle around him. He let's out a low whistle. "Well that's certainly fancy."

<<I assume you know what to do from here>>

"Is mah implant still active?"

<<Yes. With upgrades. You should be able to get the signal without directly integrating with it. Just turn on the channel>>

"Cool." Josh's hands fly across the hologram, looking for something as generic as a comm channel, tapping it with a finger when he does. There's a crackle and a faint sensation of vertigo as his implant warms up, locking onto a signal for the first time in who knows how long, "whoa." Josh takes a steadying breath as he staggers listlessly to the side, "don't remember it being that intense."

<<Your body must reacclimate to the implant.>> Jack 'says' into his mind. It's less actual words and more a transference of code translated and made intelligible to the synapses in his brain. <<Do not forget it has been greatly improved since you last used it. You will adjust>>

"Course, yeah," Josh huffs, righting himself.

<<Let's get you out of here>>

19.

 

Shit hits the fan after five minutes.

20.

<<Stop here>>

Josh blinks, looking around for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing seems out of place, just a terminal room. "Why?"

<<I need you to do something for me>>

"Seriously?!" He says incredulously. "We're almost out of time, Jack!"

<<I am aware. But if you wish to successfully get out of this facility it is imperative we do this>>

Josh narrows his eyes. "Do what exactly?"

<<I need you to release me. Download my core onto your communicator. It has the capacity>>

"No."

<<You have trusted me this far. Why deny this request?>>

Josh crosses his arms. "We don't have time, just get me out."

<<Make time>>

"Or what?" He growls.

<<You will die>>

Josh flinches, then bristles, the alien thing inside of him gnawing at the gates of his chest, spewing short psychedelic bursts of energy from his fingertips. "Is that a threat Jack?"

<<No. Merely an observation.>>

Josh flexes his fingers and inhales. The air around him shimmers duly, reflecting the soft terminal blue glow in the room like a kaleidoscope. "Sure sounded like a threat."

<<Do you know how to fly a ship?>>

What?

"What?"

<<Do you know how to fly a ship? Perhaps read a map? Have access to funds and spacewear?>>

Josh frowns, the thing subsiding slightly. "No." He admits.

<<Then you need me. You may be able to force your way out of the facility. You may even manage to get off the planet mostly in tact, but how long until you reach a point where you can not do anything? We have no way of knowing what will happen without your injections for instance. You need me Faraday and I can not do that if I am trapped here>>

Josh glowers. The alarm goes off. 

<<Make time Faraday>>

21.

He does, with a yell, hooking his communicator to the main terminal and turning to face the first of the bots that'd come to stop him.

<<Subject #1015198211: Stand down or face termination>>

"Try me bitch."

22.

He tears them apart, rending metal with the ghost movement of his hands and the raw strength of his mind. He flings himself into the fight, a desperate cry in the middle of a storm lost in the chaos. 

23.

<<Faraday! Faraday!>>

24.

Subject #1015198211... Given Name: Joshua Faraday... Height: 6"0... Hair: Red/Brown... Eyes: Green... Birthday: Unknown... Age: Best analysis on human maturation places him between the ages of fifteen and seventeen... Born: Raynor Colony located on the outskirts of the Andonyus System... Status: Active...

<<Fa_r_d_y! _an _o_ h_ar_ m_>>

Galaxies... locations... Names... Solar systems...

Subject #121818113... Given Name: Abraham... Height: N/A... Status... Terminated...

Subject # ______... Given Name: L_ly.... Height:.... Status.... Terminated

Subject #... Subject #... Subject #... 

Terminated... Terminated... Terminated...  Project.... P.E.T... Harvester...

25.

<<download complete>>

26.

<<FARADAY!>>

27.

Josh gasps, coughing and turning on his side to vomit, blood and bile spewing from his mouth.

"W-what," he wheezes after a few moments of dry retching, "the fuck, just happened?"

<<You did not close the channel during my download. It appears the combined effects of your abilities and the open channel overloaded your implant and caused a... fusion... to occur>>

"Am I going to die?"

<<Fusion seems benign. You shut off all mechs in a hundred yard radius by the way. Some sort of psychic EMP burst. I am curious to see how this change will affect your abilities>>

Josh groans, pushing himself wobbly to his feet. "Just get me out of here."

<<What about what you saw?>>

He grunts, patting himself down and taking out his deck of cards, twirling a few between his fingers. "Was it real?"

<<Yes.>>

Josh looks at the destruction around him. Metal parts and fizzing wires locked at odd angles littered the floor. "Tell the Commune about it. I'm done," he walks over to  where the communicator lies fizzing on the terminal and shoves it in his pocket. Jack could probably fix it, "Just keep mah files out of it."

<<Understood. Sending encrypted file 'Harvester Project P.E.T' now. Complete. Also it may interest you to know that the docking bay is directly above us>>

Josh kicks a lone dead bot's head across the floor and nods, shoving his hands in his synthsuit's pants. "Beam me up Scotty."

<<I do not understand this reference, Faraday. What purpose would I have to beam you? It sounds painful and counter productive>>

Josh sighs. "We're really going to have to work on your human culture apps, huh? Star Trek is a classic."

END

 

Notes:

Sorry for how dialogue heavy this part was. Hopefully it wasn't too terrible ^^; I feel like this dragged or the start was kinda meh or something. Idk. But hopefully you all liked it well enough even if I'm sort of like AFAJDFADJKLSFK whatever it's done.

Fun Facts: Faraday's Subject Number actually isn't arbitrary. It's the number values of his first name....or it should be. I lowkey did it in my head and may have miscounted somewhere.

-Jack's card is picked on purpose. I was just glad there was a card that fit his AI ness in those 4. The Jack of clubs is pretty much all logic and androgynous being, which fits pretty well with a body less AI I think.

-Glitchy text says "Faraday can you hear me?"
-Josh/Faraday's accent is done and purpose and will not be how he talks in the next work (A Curious Tale of Cowboys in Space). His accent is meant to be a sort of galactic equivalent to a southerner's being born and raised on a colony and all. Jack tutors him out of it over the years into the more playfully refined drawl Faraday has in the movie.

-Josh is approx. 16 in this btw in case you didn't catch that (hence the underage tag for the whole psychological torture/human experimentation thing)
-Beam me up Scotty. So Faraday is a bit of a nerd of the classics and I couldn't resist. Enjoy a shameless plug.
Next Origin will be Chisolm's

Notes:

I'm splitting this chapter up cause it's kind of heavy and honestly. I'm sorta just... done atm. Like emotionally burned the fuck out and I figured if that's how I feel then y'all are probably similarly mentally messed with. So the rest of Faraday's backstory will be in the next half. Don't worry. The heaviest of it has come to pass. Not beta read cause I just want it out there now so I'm sorry for any errors (i know there are some somewhere) I'll fix them later.

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