2012-04-22: Dead Man Talking


Cyril_icon.jpg Echo_icon.jpg

Summary: Dead men apparently do tell tales, and ask an infuriating number of questions.

Date: April 22, 2012

Log Title: Dead Man Talking

Rating: PG

NYC - Central Park

Central Park is a large public park in upper Manhattan, largest areas of green with people reading, having a picnic, or playing Frisbee. Walking paths can be found all around the park. In-between the large area's of grass, the park is shadier with many trees. A large road circles the park where joggers, bicyclists, and inline skaters are commonly found.

The afternoon weather has taken a turn for the worse, light rain drizzling from a dark overcast sky and dropping the temperature significantly. Only the most dedicated parkgoers are out now, umbrellas in hand. Raindrops pattering noisily off her plain black umbrella and soaking her blue jeans up to mid-calf, Echo looks miserable. Actually, her expression is only neutral, but the atmosphere of the day makes everything look miserable. She and a few others take momentary shelter under the heavy arch of a stone bridge as the wind whips more fiercely and the raindrops swell in size and intensity, pounding the landscape like tiny bombs.

Few people run to the bridge structure for temporary shelter from the pouring rain. One man in a heavy black overcoat and fedora is one such person to run under the bridge. Oddly enough, this man has white hair just like Cyril's. A dark red dress shirt underlayers the heavy coat and a pair of ordinary black trousers are worn to complete the outfit. The man doesn't appear to notice Echo immediately, but the similarity between him and Cyril is just… Uncanny.

Folding up her umbrella, the dark haired woman turns slowly to stare, eyes narrowed and a definite downward pull at the corners of her mouth. One of her eyelids briefly twitches, like a nervous tic. Someone pushes past her to join a friend at the other end of the temporary shelter and Echo allows it dazedly, staring holes in the back of the white-haired man's head. The little twitch happens again.

Briefly, Cyril greets one of the other people under the bridge and appears to exchange a few friendly lines of dialogue with them. The two laugh and Cyril turns to walk away, if then only spotting Echo. Some kind of smile twists the corners of Cyril's mouth upwards in a cat-like grin as the Doctor proceeds to encroach upon Echo's territory. With a friendly demeanor, Cyril says, "Hello again, Echo. How are you doing?" It's Cyril, alright.

"You're dead," Echo responds, icily accusing and chastising, as if Cyril is doing something he shouldn't. In truth, he is. He's breathing. The android straightens, shoulders back and hands tightening on the handle of her umbrella.

"I'm dead?" echoes Cyril, feeling his chest curiously. "No.. No, I do believe my heart is beating. I feel like it would be appropriate to make a joke about cats having nine lives, but I'm not a cat, so unfortunately the context makes it impossible for me to really make that joke. How are you?"

Echo says nothing. She turns to look at the other people gathered under the stone bridge then back to Cyril. Dead, icy silence.

Cyril takes another few steps forward and murmurs quietly after glancing about, "I'm not going to tell anyone, relax. If anything, I should be the angry one after last night."

The tip of Echo's umbrella swings upward quickly, its metal reinforced point coming to rest against the doctor's solar plexus. It's not exactly sharp, but with a little pressure it could be rather painful, or even deadly. For the moment, it is not. "Explain," the android demands in a calm, quiet voice. "Now."

Cyril knows full well when to stop, and thusly does so calmly with the umbrella resting on his chest. The smile fades back to a serious expression, considering that Echo isn't quite so pleased with the current events, "Would you like to talk somewhere like a coffee shop where you won't attempt the same from last night, again?"

"That is not," says the android, pressing the umbrella's tip in just a little harder. "An explanation." Still, after a moment, the pressure diminishes and she lowers the instrument. "If this is a trap, I'll kill you again. I'll be much more thorough." It's not a threat. It's a fact.

And thus, Cyril leads Echo away from the cover of the bridge and into the rain. Cyril attempts to make himself less wet by straightening the collar of his overcoat. After a moment, Cyril asks, "Why do you insist on trying to kill people? You realize that this is an aspect of social integration that most people tend to not do. In the interest of civility."

Echo is quiet on that point for a while. "New York is a target-rich environment," she explains, unfolding her umbrella to keep the rain off. She does not offer to share it. "I have goals and there are some who insist on hindering me. If they're neutralized, they no longer hinder me."

Cyril stops, getting into Echo's face with a surprising amount of agility. His voice is angry. Annoyed. "That is not the right answer. That is never the right answer, because there are other options. There are /always/ other options." For once, Cyril actually looks angry, especially with that scowl on his face.

The anger simply rolls off Echo, like the rain from her umbrella. She meets Cyril's eyes unflinchingly. "You know I'm an android. That information is a weapon you can use to destroy me, if you choose to. Eliminate you and I eliminate your weapon. Therefore I'm safe. I don't see the problem."

"I can help you." replies Cyril, "People are not just targets. They are not potential enemies waiting to destroy you. They're humans. Actual human beings, not programs. This isn't a training simulation, Echo." There's a pause as Cyril lets that in before he angrily continues at a higher volume, "They have /LIVES/, you do not get to decide who lives and dies." But Cyril backs away, "And maybe you're not just a listless military android. Just let me help you."

The woman stares at him throughout the brief tirade. Rain patters all around, off the sidewalk and umbrella in a persistent buzz of white noise. "How would you help me? More importantly, why?"

"I can offer shelter if you have none, and I can be someone you can trust. I can be there for you and I can protect you." replies Cyril calmly once more. Silence falls as the rain continues to pour. The doctor removes his hat and the rain quickly begins to mat down his white hair, "And I suppose I just know you're one more person that I will be unable to hurt…" Cyril says with a sigh.

"What benefit do you gain from this?" asks the android, deadpan. "What assurances do I have that this isn't a trick or a trap? Why would you even bother, given that I've stated quite clearly that I would kill you if I had the chance?"

"I suppose you'd have to trust me." answers Cyril with a frown, "Your alternative is to continue killing those who you think is a threat until you draw enough attention to yourself that the agency that created you attempts to track you down and return you to their labs. Frankly, that isn't an alternative, and I would prefer that you don't go back there."

"You're a very curious man. I still don't know what your motivations are." Echo's eyes narrow and her lips purse slightly. Her head tilts backwards a little, as if to regard Cyril from a slightly different angle. "You're either very clever or you're an idiot."

Cyril seems amused, as he puts hits fedora back on his water-soaked head. "I appreciate that." There's another bit of a pause as the doctor looks at Echo curiously, "I am being completely genuine with you. Let me help you. If I had really wanted ill-will upon you, I wouldn't have wasted my tactical advantage of surprise to approach you."

"I'll consider it," offers Echo, nodding pensively. "Risk-benefit analyses are inconclusive. And I could always dispose of you later, if you're lying." She gives the umbrella a short twirl, sheeting the collected water droplets outward in a fan. "There is still the matter of why I didn't succeed the first time. You promised an explanation."

"Will you share your umbrella?" asks Cyril curiously.


Cyril frowns. "Oh, well." The doctor shrugs. "I can regenerate," is the man's simple reply.

"Your heart had stopped. I pierced it at least once." Echo looks at Cyril with eyes half-lidded, mouth a thin, tense line. "You weren't just injured and able to recover quickly. You were dead."

"Indeed. But you had asked me for an answer, and that is your answer. It is the same answer you seek about handshakes." says Cyril with his arms crossed, "But if you were to ask anyone else, I am but a doctor. A really, really great doctor. Do you have a place to stay tonight?"

A hint of irritation flashes across Echo's face at Cyril's circumspect answer. It leaves quickly. "No, I don't. If you're implying an offer, I have some things to pick up first. You'll come with me so I can keep an eye on you." It's an order, not a request.

Cyril smiles faintly, gesturing for Echo to go ahead. "I have to warn you that I have one other room-mate."

"And you can vouch for their trustworthiness as well?" the android asks, taking the lead toward the edge of the park, northwest in the direction of Columbus Avenue.

"Indeed. Selene, my cat, is completely trustworthy." replies Cyril with a smile as he follows after Echo.

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