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heliads · 11 months ago
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everything is blue • conrisa space au • Chapter Seventeen: Returning the Favor
Risa Ward escaped a shuttle destined for her certain, painful death. Connor Lassiter ran away from home before it was too late. Lev Calder was kidnapped. All of them were supposed to be dissected for parts, used to advance a declining galaxy, but as of right now, all of them are whole. Life will not stay the same way forever.
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Connor Lassiter stares at Death. Death stares back at Connor Lassiter.
Dorian Heartland is not an easy man to look at. Connor doesn’t like doing it, but taking his eyes off of this infernal creator for even one moment could offer Heartland a chance to take Connor’s pupils for his own, so he refuses to budge his gaze even one millimeter.
All this does, though, is to give Connor a good look at everything that makes Heartland so horrifically wrong. He can see in the stiffness of Risa’s posture, the flightiness of her breath, that she’s caught on to who this is too, although by this point that would almost be impossible to avoid. Dorian Heartland is like no other man Connor has ever met before, though that might be because Dorian Heartland is no longer made up of any of his original birth parts, nor the secondary parts that replaced him, nor the ones that swapped him out after that. Connor can’t even begin to fathom what iteration of lungs he must have inside someone else’s ribcage– is the fourth generation of blood pumping through his veins, perhaps? The fifth?
Connor wonders what parts Heartland will take from Connor as some sort of grisly hunting trophy. The eyes, maybe. Everyone likes the eyes. Snatching his heart would be a particularly satisfying touch, too. If Connor wasn’t so disgusted by the idea of harvesting someone else’s bits and pieces to keep himself intact, maybe he, too, could see the allure in holding Heartland’s brain in his head, clenching the pink matter between his knuckles and knowing that someone else’s entire life and soul was in his hands.
Well. His and Roland’s. Connor is no better than this grave robber. Even though the switching out of arms was unintentional, Connor still bears the limb and tattoo of another teenager. Does that make him any closer to Heartland? Will it spare him from Heartland’s punishment? No and no, but it does paint a rather more confusing portrait. It would be easier if Connor were totally blameless, of course, but no one in this galaxy ever is. The same chain that breaks our wrists will help us up one day, and then it will kill our best friend and worst enemy in turn. All Connor can do is hope to stay alive, but even now, that seems like one last possibility that’s slipped out of his reach.
Heartland smiles indulgently, taking in the startled looks on their faces. “Now, now. Don’t give yourselves an aneurysm trying to figure out how I tracked you down. I need all of your brain matter to be as functional as possible. You won’t believe the number of potential buyers who have been contacting me in the hopes of getting a piece from the two of you.”
 “I’m trying extra hard now,” Connor says dryly.
Heartland has the nerve to roll his eyes like a petulant teenager. Connor wonders if that motion is uniquely Dorian, or if it’s from an actual AWOL who’s still not past his rebellious teenager phase even if he’s landed in the body of someone like Heartland. Regardless, the sudden movement makes Heartland’s whole face bulge unevenly as different sections of skin resist tension with varying rates of success, old and young parts making themselves known. For a moment, Connor swears he can see every piece of Heartland for what it is, can map every seam and stitch, and then the man’s face returns to neutral again and the effect is undone.
“Don’t be sulky, Connor, it does you no good.” Heartland admonishes him.
Connor folds his arms across his chest. “Oh, so you’re going to lecture me before you rip off my limbs? How charitable of you.”
“I’m not ripping off your limbs, that would be my expert team of surgeons,” Heartland clarifies. “Besides, ripping is entirely too gory of a description. Distribution is a perfectly reasonable procedure. The galaxy has ensured that it’s completely scientific, with as little pain to the distributes as possible. You simply must get your mind out of the gutter. Speak elegantly or don’t speak at all, Connor. I don’t want that tongue to be corrupted more than necessary.”
Beside him, Risa narrows her eyes at the man. “Was that little flower bed over there produced in the name of elegant speech, or did you just want an excuse for other people to talk about unwinding without putting words in your mouth?”
She jerks her chin towards a display somewhere beyond them. Connor thinks he remembers her coming from that direction when she’d run over to tell him that they had been caught. He wishes fleetingly that he had been closer, that he’d never suggested splitting up at all, that they had just put themselves first like every other soul in the galaxy seems wont to do, but the dreams evaporate in time, leaving him only the stark reality of having been caught in the pointless effort of trying to save lives.
Heartland chuckles, evidently remembering what Risa’s talking about. “Oh yes, the flowers. The last band of upstarts had the same reaction. I love it when we’re all on one page.”
Connor frowns, wondering if some other group of runaway unwinds had made it here before them to be the ‘band of upstarts’ Heartland referred to. He hadn’t seen anyone in the airspace above them when he landed, and certainly Connor would have heard if someone sprung Heartland’s trap a few standard hours ago, but then it occurs to him that Heartland isn’t mentioning events earlier that day at all.
No, Heartland is recollecting the last group of kids who tried to act as heroes for the galaxy. Connor hasn’t heard of any in a while, but even without the Collective’s propensity for propaganda whitewashing everything into blank silence, the last batch of would-be saviors would have been around decades ago. Heartland could be referring to infinite rounds of kids who didn’t want to die, all stretching back for centuries.
How many unwinds have stood in this exact spot? How many generations of children have tried to kill off Heartland or his policies but failed? Connor and Risa are far from the first, nor, judging by the fact that they’ve already been caught, will they be the last. This cycle will go on forever, as surely as a thousand suns rise and set across the galaxy, as certainly as the never ending rotation of fresh organs from the body of a child into the frame of an adult. Teenagers will rise out of obscurity, challenge the notion that the young should die for the wastefulness of the old, and then they will be struck down all because one man has cheated them of their last resource:  time.
Of course Dorian Heartland wins every round. He has the luxury of knowing the full story every time. Heartland knows how the rebellions start, so he can crush them in their infancy. He knows how the last stragglers turn into martyrs, so he can lay expert traps and avoid their attempts to save their friends. Starkey’s little attack may have caught him off-guard, and Connor may have been able to run from him once, but now Heartland has had time to consider their strategies and plan accordingly. Dozens of Connors have tried to make a stand, and Heartland has killed them every time. What is Connor now but one more replacement? Heartland is swapping out another one of his parts:  the rebel, the fighter, the loose end in his plans. He’s done it before. He’ll do it again.
Connor feels his stomach roll, low and heavy. He wants to scream and scream until the sickness leaves his body and goes into Heartland, until Dorian Heartland of old-Earth and always having enough remembers what it’s like to crave survival more than anything else.
Instead, he rocks back and forth on his heels twice, trying to force himself to stay under control. He’s got to stall so he has time to plan. Connor can hear slight rustling on the paths surrounding them. The other park visitors are conspicuously not looking their way, leading him to believe that they’ve been planted here to alert Heartland to their eventual presence without tipping off Connor and Risa that anything was wrong. That means everyone here will try to stop them if they run, plus more soldiers are likely on the way. There’s a clear opening somewhere behind Heartland, a path out of the park and into the surrounding streets, but they’d have to get past Heartland first.
In order to give himself an opportunity to conjure up an escape plan, though, Connor needs what he has always lacked:  more time. He stares at Heartland, and asks, “How did you find us, then? Did you put a tracker in my blood while you had me in your hospital?”
Heartland scoffs. “And risk damaging the product like that? Certainly not. I will admit, you had me worried when you threw yourself from the window, but as it turns out, I didn’t have to worry. You wanted yourself intact as much as I did.”
Risa scowls protectively. “Don’t act as if you cared about his survival. You just want his pieces.”
Heartland turns to her with an affronted stare. Immediately, Connor wants to say something stupid so the man will focus on him instead. Nothing good comes of Heartland’s gaze, Connor can say that for certain.
“Oh, and you care so much more? Risa Megan Ward, abandoned to a State Home when you were a child. You value the Akron AWOL more than I do? Not just because his survival ensures that you’ll end up alive?”
Risa meets his gaze coolly. “You’re wrong,” she says simply. “I don’t have to prove a damn thing to you. Connor trusts me and I trust him.”
Her expression is completely certain, but Connor swears he still sees her relax microscopically when he adds on, “You can’t turn us against each other, Heartland. Save your tricks for someone who cares.”
Heartland just shrugs. “You’d be surprised how many battle-scarred partners in survival will abandon each other for the opportunity to live. It’s worked before.”
Not for us, Connor thinks decisively. Like every other AWOL before him, he believes at once that the two of them will be the first to actually make it work.
Dorian Heartland ignores this, unaware or perhaps simply not caring that yet another round of teenagers believes that they can save themselves. He’s seen it often enough that it probably doesn’t even register. “No, Connor, I couldn’t track you. I simply had to lay a trap. I was going to ransom your friends from the Graveyard so you’d come to me, but you beat me to it.”
Connor realizes he’s referring to the massacre at the harvest colony. “That wasn’t us,” he blurts out before registering belatedly that he probably shouldn’t give away more than Heartland expressly tells him.
Heartland, however, doesn’t seem surprised by this. “Oh, I know. My men arrived perhaps a few standard hours after you left. They checked the security holos and saw both the attack and your shocked reaction. I must admit, however, that I already guessed it wasn’t you. You two didn’t seem the type for tasteless bloodshed.”
“As opposed to the tasteful bloodshed of unwinding?” Connor fires back. He can see Risa eyeing the exits as well. She’s always been good at planning; so long as he keeps Heartland talking, he gives her more chances to save them. If there’s one thing Connor can do, though, it’s talk. This is fine. It has to be.
Heartland sighs. “You must let go of this unnatural fear of yours, Connor,” he chides. “You don’t run around screaming at cosmic pilots for transcending humanity by exposing people to the horrors of spaceflight, do you? Even though the risks from accidentally entering a wormhole or dying star are far more gruesome than a clinical distribution.”
Connor stares at him, bewildered. “Those aren’t even remotely the same thing. Get better metaphors.”
“If you insist,” Heartland remarks, looking vexingly unbothered by this, “I’ll tell my surgeons to have my next cranial implant come from a writer or a poet. Will that make you feel better?”
Connor wants to tell Heartland in no uncertain terms that something that would make him feel better would involve Connor’s fist going somewhere very nonclinical indeed, but Risa places a gentle hand on his arm, a quiet reminder to cool it, and he manages to swallow back the anger before it consumes him entirely.
“So,” Connor says, fighting the urge to scream, “The trap. It didn’t work.”
Heartland arches a brow dubiously. “Of course it did. You’re here.”
Connor shakes his head, exasperated yet again by the man’s wording. “No, no. The trap with the Graveyard kids. We’re going chronologically. It failed because everyone in the colony was taken.”
“Did it?” Heartland remarks. “Because I still have all of my distributes back with me.”
Too late, Connor realizes that he’s misread the situation again. “Starkey already came back here,” he whispers quietly. “You got them back.”
“Of course I did,” Heartland says mildly. “He fell for the same lie you did. Funny, no matter the technique– blood or bargaining– both of you dropped all of your good sense the moment you heard there were distributes about to die.”
Risa lets out a slow gasp. “You have everybody?”
Strangely enough, Heartland wavers slightly before he answers. “Yes.”
“No,” Connor guesses. “You don’t. Someone escaped. He’s got a big group, someone could have slipped through the cracks.”
At the bright flash of warning in Heartland’s eyes, Connor knows he’s struck it right. Risa grins. “Starkey got away didn’t he? Little starspawn always puts himself first.”
Heartland’s mood has gone sour, and when he starts to move forward, Connor knows that the time for monologuing is over. “It doesn’t matter. He can’t run far. I have you, I have his supporters. All of you will be in pieces by the end of the week. A few hours in between captures makes no difference to me.”
Connor grabs Risa’s hand, throwing himself forward towards the gap he’d seen earlier. Immediately, a few passersby try to block their passage, but they’re both running now, as fast as they can. Connor knocks into somebody as he hurtles back through the park, but he doesn’t check to see who it was. Anyone who isn’t Risa is an enemy now, and anyone in their path will be trampled on their way to freedom.
Something whistles over Connor’s shoulder and buries itself in a nearby synth-hedge. He recognizes the slim dart as he passes, calling out to Risa in between gasps for air, “They’re shooting tranqs at us! Be careful.”
“Always am,” Risa growls under her breath, pulling him around a tight corner. 
The tall gate marking the entrance of the park is within sight, and Connor puts on an extra burst of speed, willing them to get there. They can lose the guards in the streets if they have to, but right now, with everyone so close behind them, there’s no way they could last forever.
As he thinks this, Connor hears a tranq gun fire somewhere behind them, plus the whistle as the dart flies through the air. A quiet thunk sounds, and since Connor can’t feel any pain, he assumes it’s another miss, right up until the point when Risa stumbles and starts to fall.
Immediately, he starts to panic. Connor catches her before she hits the ground. As he helps her up, his hands brush the dart sticking out of her shoulder. “No,” he mutters urgently. Connor needs Risa to be able to run. It’ll be tricky to carry her unconscious body as he sprints through the city, trying to shake the Juvey-cops, but Connor has made the last year or so banking on similar impossibilities. For Risa, he might as well stop distribution altogether while he’s at it.
Clutching Risa to him, Connor stumbles through the gate. They’ll get out, they have to. Risa’s body slides from his arms the second before he’s past the twin iron bar doors, though. Already over the threshold, he spins around to retrieve her, but the doors of the gate slam shut in his face. Belatedly, he realizes that Risa is the one who pulled herself free, and it is Risa now who is locking the gate between the two of them, making sure that no one else can get out. More specifically, she is ensuring that Connor cannot get her back.
Connor tugs desperately at the metal bars of the gate, but they don’t budge. Risa has grabbed a synth-vine from the ground and is knotting it around the handles, taking extra precautions to avoid them opening.
“No!” He screams, voice raw. “Don’t you do this to me, Risa. Don’t you leave me. You promised.”
Connor feels like a child begging for something he can’t have. You promised. But they had promised, both of them, they’d sworn they’d either make it out of this alive or die together. Yet here Risa is now, locking herself and the Juveys on the other side of a wall from him.
Risa tries to answer, but already, her words are slurring, her movements impeded as the tranq works its way through her system. “You– you can’tttt– get both of us outt,” she tells him. “Save yoursellllfff, Connnnnnor. Like you did for meee.”
Connor yells that he won’t do it, he won’t, but the Juveys are upon her already, dragging Risa’s unconscious body back from the doors. It’s too late to save her, and as a gate farther down the length of the park opens up, spilling out cops onto the street about half a block from Connor, he knows that he can’t waste her sacrifice, either.
So, hating himself with every step he takes away from her, Connor turns and runs down the street, pushing himself faster and faster. Connor swears that half of his life has been running at this point. He wonders if he’ll ever stop. He wonders if he will ever forgive himself for not being the one to sacrifice himself for Risa again. He wants to tell her that he wasn’t worth this, not at the cost of her, but she can’t hear him anymore.
Connor skids down a series of alleyways. There are guards everywhere, it feels like, breathing down his back and drawing closer to him with every step he takes. Connor pulls himself up a rickety fire escape so he can use the roofline to skirt over a high gate. After that, it’s easier to drop into a new set of alleys, to cling to the shadows, to shove a hand over his mouth to muffle the wild gasps for breath as the cops go thundering past. Connor’s good at hiding, but hiding won’t save anyone but himself.
Connor sags back against the grimy wall of the back alley as reality comes crashing in again. Risa is gone. The Deadmen who managed to escape their harvest colony when Starkey saved them have been captured once again. Connor is well and truly on his own. What can one boy do to save all of his friends from dying?
Heartland would tell him nothing. Connor’s brain is telling him nothing too, but his heart whispers a different story. He can’t give up hope, not now. Hundreds of AWOLs are counting on him to break them out. Even if it kills him, Connor can at least try.
He pokes his head out of the shadow, risking a glance into the relatively dim light of the alleyway. He doesn’t hear anything, nor see any crowds of Juvey-cops waiting on him, so he creeps out a little farther, taking careful, treacherous steps down the alley and into the sun again.
Connor emerges onto a quiet scene. He can see streets unfurling somewhere in the distance. In between them, an abandoned court for some sports game that was too expensive to make it over to the OH-10 sector. Connor pads onto the smooth ground. He can’t tell what material it is, just firm enough to make him feel like the ground is solid beneath his feet, but giving just enough that he won’t risk injury.
Is this what it means to live at the heart of Centerworld? Forget the synth-gardens and false flowers; they can create entire worlds for themselves, custom-tailor planets and star systems to fit their plans. No wonder Heartland could get away with rewriting his physical body. There is no limit to innovation here, and no limit to how much they’ll strip away from the outer systems to make that happen.
Connor makes it halfway across the court before someone calls his name.
“Connor. Long time, no see.”
The words make the hairs on the back of Connor’s neck stand up. He hasn’t heard that voice in a while, but he’d recognize it anywhere. Even from somewhere behind him in the creeping metal tunnels of the Graveyard. Even glitchy and broken up from a security holo. Even now, on a planet that belongs to neither of them.
Starkey.
Connor turns around slowly, hands raising from his sides to be ready for whatever trouble is about to come his way. “What do you want?”
Starkey chuckles. His hair has gotten brighter since Connor saw him last; lighter, closer to gold than red, like a fire that’s heightened to an inferno. Connor certainly feels as if he’s a bit of pitch and charcoal, crumbling away to ash. How is it fair that Starkey had time to sit around and re-dye the locks while Connor was hurling from star system to star system in an effort to save the people he holds dear? It’s impossible. This confrontation was not supposed to happen yet. Connor needs to direct all of his focus towards saving Risa. There is no room in his plan for tangling with Starkey.
Starkey, like usual, does not seem like he cares much about what Connor wants. “That’s rude, you know. I thought you’d have kinder words for an old friend.”
“We’re not friends,” Connor spits. “Not since you had your little show on that harvest colony.”
Starkey’s grin broadens, clearly delighted. “You saw that? I was wondering if you would. Do you have any constructive criticism? I mean, you’re the king for taking down Juveys, you did do it first, but I think I did mine with a bit more flavor. You were never willing to commit. You can’t save the unwinds without willing to do whatever it takes.”
“And butchery is whatever it takes?” Connor asks dryly. “Funny, I thought that’s what we were trying to stop in the first place.”
Starkey’s incandescent smile flicks out in a second. Connor still feels like the manic grin was creepier than the dead stare, though. At least now, Connor knows what’s coming. They’re not friends and they never have been. The sooner Starkey put away the adoring fan image, the better.
“Don’t tell me you miss the doctors who would have unwound us,” he hisses. “They wanted us in pieces, Connor. They would have taken your organs in a heartbeat, and they sure as sunfire wouldn’t be crying for you like you are for them. Niceness won’t get you anywhere. They don’t have a moral compass, so why should I?”
“It’s not just the distributors you have to win over, it’s the entire galaxy.” Connor tells him. “Can’t you see that? No one will agree to stop distribution if they’re terrified of us. We have to convince people in every single star system that we deserve saving, but so long as you’re bombing out harvest colonies, that’s not going to happen. You have to play the long game.”
Starkey’s eyes flash, and Connor is briefly reminded of the flare of the exploding engines back on the Graveyard right before the whole place went nuclear. “No, Connor, you’re the one who doesn’t get it. They’ll only respond to shows of force. If we stay quiet, we’re easy to ignore. Look, right now I’ll give you the opportunity to take it back. This is your chance for redemption. You’ve been afraid of getting your hands dirty for too long. I’ve never been scared. There are no shades of gray, just black and white. You’re with them or you’re with me. Pick who you want to be, Connor, but either way, you’re not walking out of here as anything but one of my men.”
Connor’s breath feels harsh in his lungs, grating against his ribcage. He can’t join Starkey, he can’t, but what if this is the only way? “One of your men? I wasn’t aware you had an army.”
Starkey’s lip curls. “We’re better than that. They’d follow me everywhere. See, I watched you, Connor. I watched you for a year in the Graveyard. I saw what you did. Those kids loved you, even though you didn’t deserve it. I couldn’t wrap my head around why they’d willingly devote themselves to someone who clearly wasn’t willing to go all the way, but then it hit me. Everyone loves a hero. So I made myself one.”
The dots are connecting in Connor’s head, but the picture they reveal is far more terrible than he’d ever envisioned. “That’s why you sent that message through Hayden’s radio frequency, isn’t it? It wasn’t an accident, you wanted the Juvey-cops to find us. You wanted a showdown.”
“Of course I did,” Starkey sneers. “I’d been planning it for weeks. No accident there. The second the Juveys were sighted, I directed all of my closest followers plus a few extra kids towards one of the shuttles that was still docked in the Graveyard. We got out before shots were even fired. After that, it was easy to track down the harvest colony. Once I swooped in and saved the day, they loved me more than they’ll ever love you. Best decision I ever made.”
Connor wants to kill him. “Sentencing hundreds of kids to distribution, destroying the Graveyard, killing the Admiral– that was the best decision you ever made? People died in the riots. Dozens have already been unwound. All so you could get some hero worship.”
Starkey just shrugs. “Every battle has its casualties. We’re still alive, aren’t we? I knew you would pull through anyway. I hate to say it, but I was counting on it. I always use you to spring the trap. I slipped up this time, I tried to free the kids first, but next time I’ll let you challenge that weirdo before me so I can get it right.”
“What do you mean, next time?” Connor asks, voice tightening. “Just what are you planning?”
Starkey spreads his arms theatrically. “I’m ending it. No more distribution. It was one thing to take out a harvest colony, but with the amount of explosives I’ve got on my ship, I could take out this whole damn city.”
Connor tenses up. “You’re not just targeting the distributors. You want to kill the civilians, too.”
Starkey chuckles remorselessly. “Of course I do. You think I give a damn about Centerworld? Look around you, Connor. Look how much they have that we don’t. This is what they deserve. It’s what we deserve. We’re going to bomb them to pieces. Maybe then they’ll have a deeper appreciation for what it’s like to be unwound.”
“No,” Connor breaks out. “You can’t. He captured Risa. I have to get her back first.”
Starkey lifts a shoulder. “I don’t care, I’m not stopping for one girl. Now come on. You’re either with me,” he says slowly, drifting closer to Connor again, “or you’re against me. Make your choice.”
Connor shakes his head. “I’m not joining you, Starkey. If you’ve been watching me this long, you know there’s no way I’d do anything to risk Risa. You killed my friends. You’re no better than the rest of them.”
Starkey’s face shuts down. “Actually, I was about to say the same thing about you.”
Connor sees the flash of Starkey’s hand to his belt right before the first shot rings out. Connor only just manages to drop to the ground and catch himself in a tight roll to the side. He hears the bullet whistle over his head and realizes that Starkey isn’t bothering with tranqs. Only one of them will be leaving this place alive, and since Starkey is the one with the gun, it isn’t looking great for Connor.
Another shot goes in the ground just a few inches from Connor’s head. He springs to his feet, racing towards the nearest exit. Already, the sound of gunfire is attracting attention:  a few heads poke out of nearby windows, and Connor can see the distant silhouettes of passersby pointing out the two of them.
“Stop this,” Connor urges. “I’m not your enemy, you idiot. You’re going to get the Juveys on us again.”
“They’ll only find your body,” Starkey challenges, and fires again.
Swearing violently, Connor throws himself around a corner. The bullet hits the wall, sending forth a shower of sparks and loose debris.
“Come out, Connor, come out,” Starkey calls, his tone a mocking sing-song beat.
Obviously Connor is not about to do this, so he drifts further down the side of the wall. Starkey is just on the other side of him, about to fire again and end it for real, and then his eyes widen and his mouth goes slack with shock.
Too late, Connor peers past him and sees that Juvey-cops have broken into the scene. One is lowering a tranq gun. As Starkey slumps over, Connor can see the dart embedded in his back. Quickly, the cops rush over and restrain him, hauling the boy to his feet. Starkey tries to fight back, but the tranq is slowing him down and it’s easy for the Juvey-cops to get him under control.
Starkey locks eyes with Connor as they drag him away. All of a sudden, his jaw unhinges and he starts to scream at the top of his lungs, spittle flying from his mouth with the force of his yells. “Wait, stop! He’s the one you want, not me! Connor Lassiter is right in front of you. You can get the fucking Akron AWOL. Kill him! Kill Connor! He’s your enemy. He’s the one you want.”
Connor’s eyes widen, and he presses himself further into the shadows. Starkey redoubles his efforts to break free, writhing in the arms of the Juvey-cops even as they pull him farther from Connor. “Get Connor!” Starkey screams again. “You don’t even want me. I didn’t do anything to you. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault. Fuck the Juveys. Fuck Centerworld. I’m just a kid.”
Nausea threatens to black him out, and Connor has to press a hand against his mouth to bring himself under control. Starkey disappears down the street, but the rest of the Juveys don’t follow him out of the court. Instead, a few exchange glances, then start to head Connor’s way, evidently wanting to see what Starkey was talking about just in case.
Sunfire. Not what he wanted. Connor turns to run for what might be the hundredth time today, but he has no idea where to go. He’s out of the alleys now. All that’s left is the street lined with luxurious houses, and anyone watching from their gilded windows could tell the Juveys where Connor went. He starts moving anyway, a brisk walk turning into a jog, but there’s nowhere to hide out here.
So he thinks, at least, until a hand latches onto his and starts to drag him away. Connor’s first instinct is to fight, but then he realizes that this mysterious stranger is leading him farther from the cops, not towards them, and he slackens his grip. He doesn’t recognize the teenager, nor the one who joins them half a block down, nor the one at the door of a house who ushers them all through the door and into the relative safety of the building.
Connor does, however, recognize the blond tween who’s waiting for him inside. It’s been a long time since they crossed paths, but when Connor gapes at the boy in front of him, the name that rises to his lips is still the correct one:
“Lev?”
unwind tag list: @reinekes-fox, @sirofreak, @locke-writes
all tags list: @wordsarelife
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null1ty · 4 months ago
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HayConRisa my beloveds……..
Im doing an actual verson of this drawing with the three of them in a cuddle puddle >:)
Also i feel like Hayden would be extremely brain rotted and he would play roblox with Risa (Dress to Impress, for sure)
Him and Connor 100% rage over flee the facility, Connor has gotten permanently banned on three accounts for bullying, and will be banned again,,
ANYWAY THIS WASNT SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT HEAD CANONS 😭
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luckytidbit · 27 days ago
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Happy Halloween Unwind Fandom
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goldenfleecex3 · 4 months ago
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IS THAT CONNOR LASSITER?
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robotstrategy · 3 months ago
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Rediscover • Part 1 • 1 - Jack’s
 Series Masterlist • Part 1 Masterlist • Next
As last week's shipments all go out, Timothy Jackelette stands in front of a big family picture hung on the wall in the break room. His great-grandfather had helped build Happy Jack Harvest Camp with his brother, and he all by himself had built the harvest camp Timothy stands in today. This Camp was passed from his great-grandfather to his grandfather, to his mother, and when she becomes too old to run it anymore it will be his. He has a lot to live up to, but he’s sure he’s ready for it. 
Happy Jack was destroyed by clappers, a shame really, because when it was destroyed it was housing Connor Lassiter, the Akron Awol. A lot of people thought he was dead after that, but then he reappeared and then was gone again. Like the first time, people still think he died, but Timothy is pretty sure Connor Lassiter has reappeared on Jack’s doorstep. He turns towards the manager's office, ready to discuss the topic with his mother. 
He knocks on the door.
“Come in.” His mother answers.
Timothy walks into the office, facing his mother. “I’ve come to discuss one of two counsellors coming in from France, Robert Saltries.”
“You mean Connor Lassiter.” She says bluntly. 
Timothy smirks. “I knew it was him, I just had to make sure I wasn’t going crazy,” He paused. “So what now? Do we get him arrested?”
“I have a better idea.” Her iconic sickly sweet smile starts to form.
“If I’m thinking what you’re thinking, then, how?”
“I’ve talked with higher-ups, there are loopholes. Notice the stitch marks on his face.”
Timothy starts to connect the dots. “He’s been Recalled.”
“Not necessarily, but he counts as one.”
Timothy starts to smile. “So, he’s Stable, he can be re-unwound.”
Her smile has fully formed. “Indeed he can.”
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theworldisya-erster · 1 year ago
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EVERYONE. NOW. YNWUND DISCORD SERVER!!!
I need helping setting it up pookie who wants to be a mod
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bopeisdope · 2 years ago
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After Undivided I feel like Connor would have very bad self-esteem - I mean wouldn't every unwind, deemed unwanted by the government and their families? But like even worse than the first three books. He has constantly been idolized for just trying to survive and now his Akron AWOL persona and his face are plastered on ads and t-shirts. He is the face of the revolution and the person who spoke at the capitol. The Admiral spent millions of dollars on buying him back from Divan. All of these people have sacrificed things for him or looked up to him for one reason or another. Wouldn't he question why? Would he doubt his self-worth as he does in the first book when Risa asked him why he doesn't just tell people he's the Akron AWOL. He responded like this, "I wouldn't want to disappoint them." He believes he is not good enough for people's (often unreasonable) expectations.
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mybrainisrottingat3am · 8 months ago
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Charles I will show you around the Unwind fandom of tumblr
🦔
This is Charles. He wants to go on a journey around tumblr. could you show him around?
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luvvsoft · 6 months ago
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THANK U SM FOR THAT CONNOR FIC it made my whole month fr now i feel complete.
anyways i’m here to suggest another idea 😝😝 enemies to lovers somehow. ur writing style could make it work it’s just too good
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pairing: connor lassiter x reader
contains: angst + fluff, enemies to lovers, rivalries, some violence, jealousy, mutual pining but you’re both too stubborn to admit it
word count: 2.9k
author’s notes: tysm for the request<3 i hope its what you wanted !
also, thank you to ml @salaimoi for helping me write the kissing scene ! <3
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You were simple, as simple as a teenager could get. You liked going outside, drawing, reading, all things people around your age did. Maybe you were too simple sometimes but it wasn’t a bad thing.
Your parents thought otherwise though. Costs of living were going up: food, clothing, housing, everything. They were forced to make hard choices, and when push came to shove, they signed your unwind order. An order that would take away all your rights — primarily your right to live as a whole human being.
Cry as you tried, scream as you tried, nothing would get them to change their mind. In the end, they stayed firm on their decision, deciding you out of all your 6 siblings, were to go.
You were forced to bow your head and accept your fate. There was nothing you could do but give in, or at least that’s what you thought until Roland convinced you otherwise. Roland, who was one of your closest friends, was also sent to be unwind when he retaliated against his mother’s boyfriend.
At least you wouldn’t be alone in your final moments. Your final moments wouldn’t come as fast as you thought though.
“Roland, what are you doing?” you asked as you saw him packing a bag.
“Changing my fate. Now, come with me.”
Roland had made the rash decision to run from his fate, and you, scared of being alone, went with him. You would face all that was to come together. You just weren’t ready for what that meant.
Your “small” detour brought you to Sonia’s basement, a kind old lady who took in AWOLs. For her you were glad; she sheltered and fed you, what more could you ask for?
It would seem Roland wasn’t satisfied with that. He thirsted for more, never being satisfied with what he had. You didn’t always understand his motives, but you stayed by his side, acting as a right hand for him.
He slowly rose up, being a voice for the kids and taking control of the situation. No one challenged it, they simply didn’t care enough or were too scared. Of course they would be, Roland was big, buff, scary: a person someone rational wouldn’t mess with. But, the coming of a girl and a boy changed that.
The boy dared to challenge Roland, starting a rivalry that seemed to heat up the room whenever they were near each other. Connor, as you learned, was impulsive, worse than Roland, and seemed to care too much about the girl who came with him. The girl, Risa, was someone Roland used to toy with Connor. Roland tried pinning her in the restroom once, flirting with her, trying to get close to her, all in order to get Connor angry and irrational. It worked sometimes, other times it didn’t.
Roland was difficult, wanting full influence over the basement kids. Connor, on the other hand, wanted Roland to back off. This power struggle between them erupted in many ways, oftentimes leading you to intervene, and others to get caught in the crossfire.
It was late, too late to deal with Roland being a pain in the ass. You should have expected this, of course he would pull something deep in the night. He was messing with Risa, and now, Connor was pissed off, leading them into a stand off.
You only came to know of this when one of the little kids woke you up, whispering “Roland and Connor are at it again.” You were forced to get up after that, once again having to settle their nonsense.
It was definitely too late to be dealing with Roland. You didn’t get paid enough for this (or at all).
When you arrived at where they were in the kitchen, you saw Connor hiding Rida behind him, while Roland stood across from him with his arms crossed and a smirk lining his lips. You could see Connor’s rage boiling in his eyes, threatening to erupt and burn everything around him, including his friend. You took that as your cue to intervene.
As Connor was about to open his mouth, you stepped in, “Do you guys really have to do this so late?”
All three of them turned, not even surprised at your appearance. They knew this would happen, it was a routine at this point.
“I didn’t do anything, simply wanted something to eat,” Roland said, keeping the smug look on his face, which only seemed to irritate Connor more.
You sighed, you didn’t get enough sleep to deal with this. “Come on, Roland,” you said as you walked over to him and pulled him by his arm, walking away.
You shot Risa a look on your way out, silently telling her to deal with Connor and calm him down before he scared the other kids.
“You need to learn to leave them alone, it’s annoying dealing with this drama this late at night,” you scolded Roland as you left the kitchen, heading to the sleeping area.
Roland didn’t say much at first, settling with an “I barely touched her.”
“You know anything you do sets him off, he’s like a fuse waiting to blow, and you’re not helping.”
Back in the kitchen, while Risa tried to calm Connor down, he thought about you — about how you chose to involve yourself with someone like Roland. He was sure you were no better than him, maybe worse than Roland, as you tried to act sweet.
Sweet you were, he was sure you made cavities grow on everyone’s teeth. He saw how you tended to the kids, how you patched up people when needed, how you made new kids feel welcomed and at home. It led him to wonder how you ended up at Roland’s side, highly treasured by him. He could understand why Roland kept you close, you were like caramel, sweet and inviting, even your lips were inviting him to press a soft kiss on them.
Connor shook his head, he shouldn’t be thinking of you that way. You were someone to be thought of as an enemy, someone he couldn’t align himself with. He had to hate you.
Time passed, and you all stayed the same. Roland and Connor squabbled, while Risa and you tried to stop them. The kids were lively, not as much as before though.
Soon enough, you’d end up stuffed in boxes, being shipped somewhere no one knew. It was a long trip, and your circumstances didn’t help. You were, unluckily, forced into a box with Connor and 2 other boys.
It was dark inside the box, but someone kept their gaze on you, staring daggers through you. You were sure it was Connor, why wouldn’t it be? You knew being friends with Roland would lead you two to be enemies by association.
You sighed, it would be a long trip after all.
Connor, on the other hand, tried to distract himself from your presence by talking to the other boys in the box. It was always nice to make friends, especially if they’re be in there for however long. They’d try to involve you in the conversation, but you didn’t respond much, opting to keep to yourself.
You were strange, Connor thought. He didn’t understand you try as he might, which only led him to more questions about you and your motives. How’d you end up here? How’d you end up stuck to Roland’s side? How’d someone like you be sent to be unwind?
As much as Connor wanted to voice these questions outside of his head, he knew he couldn’t. It was strange to talk to you, you only gave short answers to anyone but Roland. He wondered if you and Roland had something else going on.
Thinking of Roland only seemed to make him tense and anger to vibrate inside the box. He was losing himself in his thoughts about Roland till he felt a hand on his arm. A soft, warm hand that interrupted his thoughts, and made his mind dizzy and his head cloudy.
“Calm down,” he heard from a voice in the dark: your voice. The voice he longed to hear. Connor settled his thoughts and tried to turn to you, sitting across from him. He couldn’t see you in the darkness, but he could feel your warmth. It was comforting.
“Thank you,” Connor whispered, as he felt your hand retreat back into yourself. He was weirdly disappointed by it, though he tried not to show it.
It was only hours later that movement stopped and someone opened the crate they were in, letting sunlight in and rushing them to get out. It was chaotic and loud, airplanes could be heard and seen everywhere, along with tons of kids.
Connor learned later on they were in the Graveyard, and were to reside there until they turned 17 or they managed to get them fake identities. It was a new setting, but they didn’t have to live in fear of being unwound and think out their next plan to survive.
After, Connor looked for Risa, instead finding you and Roland alone. He didn’t know why, but his blood boiled at the sight of you and Roland hugging. He could hear you asking him if he was okay and if he was injured.
Connor hated you. He was sure he did, yet why did this feeling arise when you were near Roland? Why did he feel like he was suffocating when you got too close and clutched onto Roland like your life depended on it?
He couldn’t be jealous, no. He couldn’t bring himself to admit that he was actually jealous of Roland. He couldn’t admit that he wished you were hugging him and not Roland. Connor, not knowing how to deal with these feelings, instead chose to distract himself with other things, like helping kids around the Graveyard and being the Admiral’s helper.
Eventually, everyone got acclimated to their new environment. Every kid had a job to do, with you being in the infirmary. It seemed like the best option since you were used to patching up your siblings and kids in Sonia’s basement. It wasn’t everyday Connor came though.
“Alright, all you needed was some alcohol and a bandage. Don’t worry dear, you’ll be fine to play, just be careful,” you said as you finished tending to a little girl who scraped her knees. She got up, thanking you and then leaving.
You looked at the time, lunch was soon and you were starving. You had no time to eat this morning, and your mouth threatened to water at the thought of food.
As you were tidying up and getting ready to leave, the door slammed open and revealed Connor, an injured Connor, to be precise.
“Connor?? What happened, are you okay? Come and sit here,” you said as you hurried to get supplies for him.
The injury looked deep and was bleeding a lot, you definitely wouldn’t be eating any time soon.
Connor looked out of it, so you grabbed him and sat him down, pressing a warm cloth to the wound. He hissed, murmuring a small ow before settling.
“I’m sorry, bear with it for now while I try to find some stitches,” you whispered to him.
You found them, taking a small second to “Aha!” yourself before returning to his side. You took the cloth, and instead tried to disinfect the area around the wound, “How did this happen?”
“I wasn’t careful enough, I got distracted by someone else and dropped a part of the airplane on my arm,” Connor whispered, opening his eyes and staring straight at you.
“Hm, be more careful. I’m gonna try to stitch it now.”
Connor looked at you while you worked; you looked focused, your eyebrows furrowed as you worked to stitch up his wound. He liked your facial expressions, they were full of life. He saw a piece of your hair slide down and cover one of your eyes, moving it with his other hand.
“Thank you,” you murmured, continuing on with what you were doing.
Once you were done, you stood up straight, and looked right into his eyes, “You’re done now, good job. Try not to strain that arm and don’t put pressure on it okay?”
He nodded, thanking you. You moved away so he could stand up, but he stayed. Connor grabbed your arm, pulling you back in front of him and almost making you fall on him in the process.
“What are you doin—“ he cut you off in the middle of your sentence and brought you closer.
“I like your eyes. They shine like the sun, so bright and glowy,” Connor said before getting up and leaving. Leaving you with your swirling thoughts. He was confusing.
What he said stayed in your head, leading to many thoughts you knew you shouldn’t have.
His eyes had stared deep into you, making you feel like he could see into your soul. His hands were calloused, yet soft at the same time. You wondered what it would be like to hold them close to your face at night.
You knew you shouldn’t think of him that way, but you couldn’t stop it. The little acts he did tricked your mind into thinking what it would be like to be his.
You used the newly brought piano as a way to distract your mind from Connor. You played a few tunes when you were a normal kid, and not an AWOL.
The piano keys felt familiar under the pads of your fingers, inviting you to play. It was dark and everyone was asleep, so you saw no harm in losing yourself in the music.
You pressed one key, then another and another, till you started remembering a tune you played frequently for your friends. You vividly started to remember when you played for a school concert, in front of your mother and father for the first time, and when you played just for Roland.
You missed your old life. It was a life full of love and friends. It might have been mundane, but it was something you grew accustomed to — something that comforted you. Now your life was full of fear and paranoia, impeded by that Unwind Order. You longed for times to return to how they were, simple yet fun.
While you played and thought about your old life, Connor thought about you. He was laying in bed when he heard the piano. He thought it was Risa at first, but he knew she’d be asleep at this time. Regardless, there could be a chance that it was, so he got up and went to the courtyard.
There Connor didn’t see Risa, instead he saw you, playing the piano with tears streaming down your eyes. He stayed there, waiting for you to finish. He busied himself with admiring you, taking a moment to look at all your features from the shadows of your face to the curve of your lips while you played.
You suddenly stopped, spotting him, “Connor?” You wiped your tears and stood up, getting ready to apologize for waking him.
“I like when you play; it’s like listening to an angel’s melody. You should play more often,” he said, stepping closer to you.
“Ah, thank you, and I’m sorry for waking you up.”
“Dance with me if you’re really sorry.” Connor held out his hand, waiting for you to take it.
You didn’t deny him that, and took his hand. He immediately pulled you closer, while his other arm came and wrapped around your waist. He then started swaying with you despite there being no music.
Connor could feel your breath on his, it intoxicated him. He was sure your presence was his drug. He could feel the way your hand grabbed onto his shoulder, while the other was intertwined with his own hand.
“Why are you doing this?” you took a moment to ask Connor as he spun you around.
“Doing what?”
“Dancing with me, telling me these things, complimenting me; it messes with my brain.”
“Because I like you.”
You pulled away from him, flashing him a shocked face, “What?”
“I mean it, I really do feel something for you. Even if you’re friends with Roland, I don’t care. It makes me feel jealous and angry when you’re close to him. I want to be the one you hug and patch up, not him,” Connor said as he pulled you closer to him and cupped your face in his hands.
“Really? You mean it? Tell me you mean it please, Connor,” you said as you brought your hand up to his, and caressed his hand.
“I mean it, I promise. Let me prove to you I do.”
The room was devoid of sound, but when his lips finally met yours at last, you swore you could hear a million different melodies being sung. An angelic tune rang in your ear, erasing the uncertainness that plagued your minds beforehand.
His lips latched onto yours, his tongue seeking entry almost immediately in a desperate search. Your tongues danced to a certain rhythm, a perfect translation from your dance movements from a moment ago.
You were finally his, and he was finally yours.
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heliads · 1 year ago
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everything is blue • conrisa space au • Chapter Ten: Still Here
Risa Ward escaped a shuttle destined for her certain, painful death. Connor Lassiter ran away from home before it was too late. Lev Calder was kidnapped. All of them were supposed to be dissected for parts, used to advance a declining galaxy, but as of right now, all of them are whole. Life will not stay the same way forever.
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At first, Risa can’t even think because of the screaming. She cries and shouts until her vocal chords are raw; past that, even, because when she looks up in a daze some time later, she wouldn’t be surprised if she’s lost the ability to speak altogether. This doesn’t hurt her as much as it should. Who would she speak to if not Connor?
Connor. Connor is gone. It’s been more than a year since she first met the boy, and she was kind of counting on the fact that she wouldn’t ever have to be without him. Connor is her one constant. When she’s on the run from the Juveys, when she’s hiding in the Graveyard, when any trouble comes her way, Risa has always had Connor. Always, until now. 
Risa gives her grief one last moment to consume her, then forces herself to snap back to reality. Connor is tenacious. He’ll have found a way out. Connor will have tracked down another hidden escape pod or else made one himself out of spare parts. Maybe he’ll even have forced his way onto one of the Juvey-cop warships and masterminded his way into a one-man coup. He’ll come to her in command of a fully armed battalion, and brush it off as just a bit of fun in his free time. 
The thought makes her laugh, and it is this last bit of hope that makes Risa surge forward and take hold of the controls once more. Yes, Connor will have found a way to survive, and he’ll find a way to her again. Until then, Risa must manage to make it out of this tiny escape pod and onto a planet so they can meet up, because they will, and then everything can be okay again.
Risa turns her attention back to the control panel before her. Admittedly, she’s not the best pilot, but escape pods were designed with the knowledge that most people using them had already managed to grievously mess up their original ship, so the layout is exceedingly clear. An infant could manage to make this work, so at this point, it’ll be more embarrassing than anything if Risa can’t figure it out.
In the chaos back on the dying Graveyard, they had set a destination in the navigation interface, but she doubts Connor remembers it. They hadn’t had the time to leisurely peruse their options for the best scenery and general tourism, after all. She’s fairly sure that Connor had just picked the first option that came up on the loading screen. Seeing as Risa still has no clue where they are, and thus has no preference to be sent anywhere else, she decides to stick with that for now.
Risa leans back in her seat, trying to get her bearings. The escape pod has rotated such that she can’t see the Graveyard anymore. Instead, the only sight around her is space, wide and desolate. Connor’s always had a fondness for it, she knows that, but to Risa the vision of that many stars just makes her think of all the places she could hide, all the people she wouldn’t know about. The galaxy is huge. What are the odds that Connor finds her again even if he does manage to make it off of the Graveyard in time?
The fear from earlier threatens to cascade over her again, but Risa puts herself on mental lockdown. She won’t think about it. She can’t. The only option is to assume that Connor survived. She’ll have time to grieve later, but she won’t have to.
A beeping from the nav panel draws her attention back from the precipice, and Risa’s stomach lurches when she realizes it’s flashing red in an alarm signal. Squinting at the fine print, she reads the warning in full, but what she sees only makes her stress heighten, fissuring into her brain like a needle. She had assumed that the rogue chunk of ceiling debris that had put an end to Connor’s escape pod back on the Graveyard had left her pod intact, but it must have clipped the pod after all because the readout indicates that her fuel tank has been steadily leaking this whole time. It’s already half empty now, and she’s definitely not halfway to her target planet, at least according to the live map on the nav readout.
Swearing softly, Risa pokes cautiously at the nav screen until she can find a menu. It’s not too late to change her destination, so she probes around until she finds another option that’s closer to her. It’s quite small, more like a moon than a full-blown planet. More than that, it’s not where Connor sent her, but it’s not like Risa has much of a choice at this point. She’s sure he’d prefer her to land on a different world than to run out of fuel in the middle of empty space and die out in the endless cold.
The pod flies. The fuel continues to drip out somewhere behind her. As both the journey and the power source come increasingly near to the end of the line, Risa grips the armrests of her seat, fingernails digging into the smooth silicate material. There’s absolutely nothing she can do now but sit and wait for either a semi-smooth landing or no landing at all, but the powerlessness does nothing to calm her nerves. 
All this time, Risa has always had an option, something she could do:  run away, choose Connor, flee to the Graveyard, find an escape pod, but now, in the face of yet another danger, Risa’s hands are tied. Either she dies or she doesn’t, but it won’t be by Risa’s actions. Some would call that a relief, but to Risa it just feels like a cop-out. Shouldn’t she always be able to do something? Dying from a power out of her control after everything she’s been through would be obscene.
She nears the small planet. As the pod enters the atmosphere, its surface starts to heat up. The torn edge of the fuel tank doesn’t take kindly to the sudden air compression. Sparks flare along the metal seams of the pod, sparks that lengthen into ribbons of white hot flame. Risa shuts her eyes and begs anything out there– the stars, the suns, even the Collective in all its self-righteous tyranny– that she will survive this. Her last moments cannot be in a tight metal coffin. Not when there’s nobody here beside her.
A click, a shudder, a jolt; Risa’s fingernails dig so hard into her palms that she’s certain they’ll bleed, but instead of tearing into pieces, the escape pod’s landing gear begins to move into place. The pod’s acceleration abruptly staggers when a parachute unfurls from the top. When Risa dares to crack open her eyes, she sees not the assumed inferno of her death but thick clouds gently drifting past her, which give way to long expanses of flat brown and gray land, like the grain of synth-lumber.
Risa was hoping that the tendrils of flame still playing upon the side of the pod would die out as the metal adjusted to the atmosphere, but no such luck. The second the escape pod touches down with far more shaking than Risa would like, she immediately unbuckles her harness and slams the button for the exit hatch until it creaks open. What lies before her is an empty clearing of barren ground, surrounded on all sides by the rocky fingers of a few occasional stone outcroppings. Not exactly hospitable, but better than the pod.
Dizzy from the shaky landing, Risa stumbles over the mouth of the hatch, head spinning. Peeking out the door, Risa’s heart chills when she realizes that the flames are almost at the cracked fuel container. She has to get away in case it explodes, but walking feels impossible. Risa makes it out of the pod, the landscape swimming before her, and immediately trips on the uneven ground. She struggles to pick herself up, but the fabric and ropes of the parachute have tangled on the ground in front of her, and Risa just can’t figure out how to liberate her ankles from the mess of cloth.
Tugging fruitlessly at the material, Risa’s gaze is jerked away when she spots movement at the corner of her eyes, more than just the black dots swimming in front of her vision with each unsteady breath she draws. She pulls harder at the ropes, but the knots around her legs refuse to come undone.
The shadow in her peripheral vision lengthens into the silhouette of a person. Frantic, Risa tries to stand again, but she falls again before she can get higher than her knees. The figure surges forward and Risa flinches away, certain it’s going to kill her. It stops a few feet away, cocking its head in confusion and what Risa swears is indignance. The way it moves is strange, a little too quick and unpredictable to be fully human. It looks like a person, certainly, but there is something about it that most certainly isn’t right, something that Risa’s addled brain can’t quite piece together at the moment.
It crawls forward on its hands and knees, but slow and deliberate, as if keen to prove it’s not a threat. It raises its hands in surrender, and when Risa doesn’t move anymore, it flicks out a knife and starts to saw at the web of ropes from the parachute. Risa holds deathly still, all too aware that one false move could liberate her legs not just from the clutch of the material but the rest of her body, but the humanoid doesn’t hurt her, not in the slightest. Once she’s free, it puts away the blade with an odd flicking motion, and Risa realizes belatedly that the knife wasn’t a knife at all, but somehow a part of its finger.
Risa coughs, trying to clear her dusty, aching throat. “Who– who are–”
She’s interrupted by the shrieking of collapsing metal from the pod, and both she and the figure turn in unison to watch the fuel container finally give in to the relentless surge of the fire. The figure’s eyes widen, and it lunges forward, grabbing Risa in its arms before sprinting away. It moves fast, too fast, and picks her up as if she were no trouble at all. They’re across the clearing in what feels like a matter of seconds, and the creature huddles behind the cover of a rock face, Risa still cradled in its embrace. She draws one shaky, terrified breath, and then an explosion booms across the space they’d just crossed, shaking the rocks with the force of its fury.
Well, Risa thinks wryly, There goes my future as an escape pod pilot. She wants to think more about the implications of losing her only way out, but for some reason thoughts are very difficult to form right now. The edges of her vision are fuzzy and getting fuzzier. The thing in front of her frowns, starts to position its mouth as if it wants to ask her something, but Risa never gets to figure out if it can. Instead, she’s dropping deep into endless blackness, and Risa Ward feels no more.
She is not dead. That would be unfair. After everything, Risa will not die of exhaustion or trauma from a damaged escape pod or even the destruction of an explosion so nearby. It takes her a while to wake up, though. Her body needs the rest, and wants to cling to unconsciousness for as long as it can before forcing itself to face reality once more. Still, it takes some time before her eyes open completely. There is still much to do, many things to learn, and plenty of ground to cross.
When Risa comes to, she is not alone. It takes her a moment to realize that this is abnormal. She has been placed on her back on smooth ground, and is being watched by a person leaning against a rocky overhang. No, not a person; Risa remembers now, and more than that, she’s able to recognize why this being had unsettled her before the explosion. It’s not that the creature before her isn’t human, it is. Just not completely human.
The figure eyeing her with the same placid gaze is a conglomeration of parts. Many are from humans. Different humans, but humans nonetheless. Both of its eyes are different colors, different shapes. The hands folded neatly in its laps are host to fingers of a variety of shapes. They don’t all line up neatly. The hair on its head switches from burnished copper to dark brown to thick curls. The seams of the different pieces are smooth, practically nonexistent, even where– even where the flesh ends and the metal begins. The figure isn’t just made up of different people, it’s also made up of different materials, flesh and bone but also smooth polymers and curving metal plates. It makes this humanoid a–
“Cyborg” Risa says, surprising herself, “You’re a cyborg.” An amalgamation of living pieces and metal. It might even be made of redistributed limbs, parts of unlucky ferals that ended up in creatures like this instead of supposedly extending the greater life of the universe or whatever lie the Collective likes to push.
Most people would be annoyed if she called them out like that. Instead, the figure just inclines its head in one steady, sedate motion. “Yes,” it says, “I am a cyborg. Android. Robot. Gizmo. Gadget. Not all of those at once, of course, but they’re roughly correct. Almost certain. Not quite true. You can call me what you please.”
Risa sits up a little, frowning at the torrent of words that pour from the cyborg’s mouth. “Do you have a name?”
It tilts its head to the side, considering this. A string of small lights on a metal panel near its left temple turns a deep yellow, almost gold. “I have been called Camus Comprix.”
Risa arches her brow. “You have been called that? Were you involved in the decision?”
Something that could objectively be called a smile graces the cyborg’s face. Its lips turn up, but there is no warmth in the expression. “I was made in a laboratory. Not all decisions involving me, involved me.” It pauses, making the lights by its temple flash a pensive orange, then adds on, a little hastily, “Although I have sometimes thought of myself as Cam.”
“Cam,” Risa repeats, “I like it.”
Cam flashes her a grin of perfectly even teeth. “What is your name? Common practice dictates that questions someone asks should be asked back to them. It is as if we only want to know about others what we most want them to know about ourselves.”
“Or they just want something to call you,” Risa comments. 
The lights on Cam’s temple turn green. “Or that.”
He looks at her inquisitively, and Risa remembers to actually answer the question. “My name is Risa. Risa Ward.”
“Ward,” Cam muses. “Patient. Protege. Dependent. Who do you depend on, Risa Ward? You came down in a pod. Do you not depend on anyone anymore?”
His manner of questioning is far more forward than anyone Risa’s met. She has the brief, involuntary thought that if Cam was ever allowed in a room with Hayden, they would be able to draw out anyone’s secrets in mere moments, but the accompanying agony of thinking of any friend she can’t see face to face makes her quickly tuck the idea back away in the darker crevices of her mind.
“I try not to, but that doesn’t always work out for me,” Risa admits. “I’m looking for a friend of mine, actually. We were both on this big star cruiser together but it– I had to leave. I don’t know when he’s coming, but he will be. I need to meet him.”
Cam’s gaze turns from quizzical to piercing. “This was close by, wasn’t it? Local. Nearby. I detected many ships going towards a cruiser just a few standard hours ago.”
Risa leans forward, unable to hide her desperation. “You can sense ships up there?”
Cam nods. “Telescopic lenses. I can see what happened. Spot it. Sight it. That’s how I knew to come find your pod. You were one of the last ones that left, and the only one that came over here. So far, at least.”
Risa’s fingers knit together. “Can you see all of the pods? Did any leave after me?”
As a cyborg, even with all of his organic parts, a being like Camus Comprix will never entirely be able to replicate human emotion. Still, the expression that flickers onto his face reminds Risa a little too much of regret.
“None left after you,” Cam tells her. “If any pods were left, they were not able to escape the inferno that consumed the cruiser.”
He looks as if he’d like to add on several more adjectives about the explosion, but bites his tongue so as to not release the stream of synonyms into the air, clearly out of respect for Risa.
It wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t hold them back, anyway. Risa can hardly hear a word he says afterwards. She’s reeling in shock and deep, grave agony. The Graveyard blew up. She had thought that the Juvey-cops would have left it intact so they could search the place more thoroughly, but the cruiser had been in the process of tearing itself to pieces when her pod launched. It would have been simple for any one of the complex systems to misfire and put the rusting skeleton out of its misery. 
Although it seems foolish, Risa can’t help a brief twinge of loss for the ship. That’s yet another home she’s lost, never to see again. Her med bay, kept carefully organized for so many months, is so much space dust now. Every corridor she learned by heart, every secret room she explored with Connor. Her bunk, her desk. It’s all gone now.
More engulfing than the loss of the Graveyard, though, is the loss of Connor. Connor Lassiter is a lot of things, capable of infinitely many daring tasks and expert close calls, but an explosion like that– the Juveys would be lucky if they got out of the danger zone, and they were on fully stocked warships. Connor just had his skin and bone.
Risa is still vaguely aware of Cam somewhere in front of her, watching her closely, so she slowly folds all of her grief back into her heart, tucking it away until the rocks and stones around her come back into focus again. At some point, Risa will be alone again, and then she can let the grief consume her as she pleases. Until then, she’ll just have to keep going.
Roughly wiping the tears from her face, Risa straightens up. “The cruiser is gone, then. Fine. I need somewhere else to go than just this clearing. Is there a city nearby? I didn’t see one when I landed.”
Despite his smooth exterior, Risa swears Cam freezes in place. “There is,” he says at last, “But– it’s not– There are no humans on this planet, Risa. It was never designed with people in mind.”
At first, the thought doesn’t even register. “It’s all natural? That’s impossible. I thought the Collective wiped out all wildlife generations ago.”
The lights at Cam’s temple burn a low, dark red. Anger, maybe, or even the faintest pinpricks of shame. “They did. This small of a moon, though, it would never take to settlers. Not enough space. This town’s not big enough for the two of us. They built the labs instead. They made us, but we didn’t pay off the way they hoped. No cash cow. Didn’t make a killing. No bread on our table. They packed up and moved on. Now we’re all that’s left.”
Risa’s starting to put the pieces together. “Wait, so there are more of you? More cyborgs? And when the scientists who made you changed their minds about what they wanted, they just abandoned you on this moon?”
“Eureka,” Cam says glumly.
Risa blows out a low breath. “That’s terrible. Are they at least sending supplies?”
The raw skepticism on Cam’s face tells Risa all she needs to know. “So the city–”
“It’s nothing,” Cam supplies. “Rusting buildings. Everything is falling to pieces. I’ve maintained myself the best over the years, so I take care of the rest when I can. It won’t last forever, though. Already, they’re falling apart. It’s certainly no place for a human to stay.”
Risa feels a swarm of guilt press against her throat. “What about you, then? There’s nothing here. You can’t hold out forever.”
Cam’s eyes are unsettlingly empty. She hadn’t realized how hard he was trying to keep up his expressions, to stay human, until he let it go. “I shut down. Lights off. Case closed.”
They drift into uneasy silence for a while, musing on that, and then Cam stands up abruptly, his knees and joints flexing seamlessly like they ran on gears instead of muscles. Which, being unable to guess at his innards, Risa reckons they might.
“I will take you to the city,” he announces. “A few of the labs are still intact. None of us like going in there, so they’re in pretty good condition. You might be able to send a signal there.”
Risa nods, taking the hand he offers so she can stand as well. “You’re willing to do that for a stranger?”
“You are not a stranger anymore, Risa Ward,” Cam informs her. The lights at his temple blink a lovely emerald green. “You are my friend.”
The journey is tedious. At this point, Risa’s starting to think that the scientists who abandoned Cam and the rest of the cyborgs must have designed this planet in a lab, too. The ground is perfectly flat, everything coated with a thin film of dust that clings to her shoes with each step she takes. Occasional rock formations pepper the landscape, but for the most part, it’s all the same. In the distance, Risa can make out the skyline of what must be the city Cam was referring to. It’ll probably take at least an hour of walking to reach it, but the air is cool and she’s got interesting company, so the time won’t drag.
Cam asks about how Risa came to be in the pod, and she ends up telling him everything. At first, she had wondered if that was the best idea, but it’s obvious that he would have no way of getting her in trouble for it. Since Cam is pretty much the only thing keeping her alive at this point, she figures a bit of small talk can’t hurt. 
It is somewhat fascinating to get to spill her life story like this. Risa’s been around the same people for a year now, give or take the slow rotation of kids in the Graveyard as some age out and others are brought in. Her circle of friends already knows who she is, so she’s never had to explain herself.
Cam, however, is a fresh start, a clean slate. He has no idea who she’s supposed to be, only who she is right now. In a way, it’s kind of nice to be able to decide who she is again. Risa is more than just the smart one, the one who makes the plans. And she’ll prove it now, by making such colossally stupid mistakes that no one would ever think about connecting the past Risa with whatever she is right now.
Cam doesn’t know about her inner turmoil, though. He just knows that she’s Risa, and she’s got plenty of new stories to tell that he hasn’t heard yet, so right now she’s, like, the greatest thing ever. He seems particularly delighted by the idea of the Graveyard, and keeps asking about just how many people were there, just what it was like to wake up in the morning and be surrounded by all that noise. When she describes the gentle din of laughter and conversation that used to fill the halls during break hours, Cam actually closes his eyes and inhales deeply, like he could travel there just by breathing in her words, a figurative file transfer.
“But it’s gone now,” Cam mumbles, brow furrowed. “It blew up this morning.”
“Yes,” Risa whispers. Its absence still haunts her like a phantom limb.
“I can see why you were upset.” Cam tells her. “It sounds like an excellent place to be. So many friends. Allies. Compatriots. All with their own stories to tell about escaping distribution.”
Risa nods. “I am sad to leave it, and not just because it was how I stayed alive. But there’s also–”
“Connor,” Cam supplies. The topmost light in the string by his temple burns scarlet before quickly clearing again.
“Connor,” Risa repeats. Even saying his name hurts. She’s fully aware of the fact that she could go to this city of cyborgs to send out a signal only to be picked up by the Juveys, but even the remote possibility that Connor might hear her is enough.
Cam is silent for a while. “You have other friends than Connor, yes? You will try to reach them, too?”
“I will,” Risa concedes. “Hayden’s probably listening, if he made it out. But Connor is the one I want to find the most.”
The corner of Cam’s mouth flickers into a disappointed frown, and he says no more on the subject. They talk about the city, the lab building they’re trying to find, but the reverence with which Cam had spoken of the Graveyard is gone.
As they draw closer to the city, Risa starts to spot more and more evidence of its decay. They pass the first body about ten minutes out from the border, but a few more appear as they draw ever nearer. Just as Cam said, every slumped figure belongs to a cyborg. Some seem as if they’ve fallen just that morning. Others show signs of having given out quite some time ago, the rotting chunks of mismatched flesh completely erased to reveal solid metal and polymer structures beneath their multicolored skin.
Cam looks away when they pass each one. It occurs to Risa that this is probably like stumbling upon the bodies of his friends. “How many cyborgs are here?”
“The records indicate somewhere around a hundred,” Cam recites. “I have no idea if that number is true. Many of us spread out when the scientists left, though most stayed in the city proper. The rest could be anywhere on the planet. I know the ones who let me help, but many would rather no one saw them go to pieces.”
The shadows of the city fall upon Risa’s feet, and she cranes her neck to stare at the crumbling buildings. There are a few skyscrapers in the very center, but the exteriors are in poor condition. The rest of the buildings around the base of the towering structures are far worse for wear, as if every available material has been harvested long ago. Risa can see houses with missing front doors and broken windows like gap teeth. Everything that hasn’t been nailed down was taken away a long time ago to maintain cyborgs that still corrode by the day.
Cam takes her on a looping, backstreets way to the center. “It’s best if we stay out of sight as much as possible,” he tells her. “It’s too dangerous to go by night, but I don’t know how the rest of us would take to the sight of a human. Keep close to me.”
She follows him down narrow alleys, occasionally hovering in the shadows of a building while they wait for a cyborg or two to pass by before skirting around an intersection. They do their best to move quietly, but Risa swears she can still feel eyes watching her as they plunge further into the rotting city. 
Once, they turn a corner to find a cyborg sitting on the ground, leaning against a wall and staring directly at them. Its hair is long and greasy, falling in many-hued sections far past its shoulders. Both of its feet are metal, although the left one is missing several toes, so Risa cannot tell for sure if they were once flesh or merely metal that got lost over the years. She has the absurd mental image of an arguing husband and wife from one of those sitcoms some of the faculty members loved to watch back at the StaHo– Honey, have you seen my toes? I swear I put them right here– and has to bite her lip to avoid hysterical laughter.
The cyborg watches them go, but doesn’t make a move. Even still, they pick up the pace, and don’t let up until several blocks are between them and the metal-footed cyborg. The sun is still relatively high in the sky overhead, albeit sinking more quickly than Risa would like, but the streets still seem gray and uninviting. Everything seems faded and worn, like old holos of neighborhoods that have long since been demolished.
Waiting under a tattered storefront awning for a pair of cyborgs to limp past the street beyond, Risa pivots in a slow half circle to get a better look at her surroundings. There’s a large poster on the wall of a nearby building, and she squints to get a better look. She’s actually seen this before, she thinks, or at least a holo-copy of it in one of her classes in the State Home. It’s an old political design from the early days of the Collective, featuring a man in an old-timey suit holding a test tube and grinning proudly. The text reads, Saving Our Worlds– And Our Neighborhoods!
Risa had to analyze variations of that image plenty of times in history classes, so she’s able to identify the man pictured as Dorian Heartland, the guy who created the Proactive Citizenry. He was a huge supporter of distribution, so obviously he’s not her favorite historical figure, but the guy had a chokehold on the up-and-coming Collective. Without him spreading his pro-distribution propaganda, especially with his massive financial backing, there’s no way distribution would have caught on as fervently as it did.
“Why do you have that sort of stuff out here?” Risa asks in a low whisper, jerking her thumb towards the poster.
Cam follows her line of sight and shrugs, both shoulders rising exactly the same distance in one perfectly orchestrated move. “The Collective payroll made this city. They might just want us to remember their beliefs.”
She wants to ask more about just what that might entail, but he’s already moving on, gesturing for her to stay close, so she brushes it off and keeps going. They’ve got more pressing issues to deal with than the all-encompassing spread of Collective propaganda, namely getting Risa off of this planet before someone or something finds out she’s not supposed to be there.
Risa almost thinks that they might make it to the lab buildings without incident when Cam makes a detour away from the skyscrapers when they’re just a few blocks away.
“What are you doing?” She hisses as they twist farther down sidestreets.
“There’s someone I need to see first,” Cam whispers back. “Trust me, it won’t take long.”
It’s not as if Risa has any other great prospects at the moment, so she fights the urge to scream or run and goes after him. After glancing around to make sure they aren’t being followed, Cam pulls her into a ramshackle building that, according to the long-dead neon sign on the front, was once a beauty parlor.
“Do you want to get your nails done?” She asks Cam, bewildered.
He just chuckles. “I’m seeing a friend. Although I’m sure she’d love to give you a manicure if you asked. She’s very eager to practice her craft.”
Cam shuts the door behind them, reaching somewhere to the side to turn on the lights, which only flicker on with great reluctance. “Audrey?” He calls. “It’s Cam, and I’ve brought a friend.”
There’s a shuffling sound from one of the back rooms, and while the owner of the sound comes over, Risa takes the time to study the building they’re in. This is indeed a beauty parlor, albeit a very dilapidated version. There are old, cracked mirrors in front of high chairs, each one supported by a desk containing broken hair curlers, dusty makeup brushes, and other basic supplies. A cabinet at the close end of the room does indeed hold rows of nail polishes, but judging by the rather volatile smell coming from some of the broken lids, Risa isn’t sure that she trusts her fingers anywhere near the shades.
“Why is there a beauty parlor here?” Risa whispers to Cam. “No offense, but it doesn’t really match the vibe of the rest of the city.”
“Appearances are very important,” Cam mumbles back. “They wanted us to feel like we were real people.”
The last sentence is muttered with undisguised disgust. How infuriating, to be placed in a mock city by your creators like dress-up dolls only to be abandoned the second they were interested in better toys. No amount of hair dye nor dried-up mascara will disguise the fact that this is no real place to live.
The owner of the shop bustles in at last. Her ear-to-ear grin is only highlighted by the lurid pink of her lipstick. Her hair has been carefully teased into a big updo, although it’s starting to deflate unevenly, giving Risa the impression that the cyborg is slowly tilting over. Her entire left arm is replaced with robotic pieces, and even the metal parts change color and texture from shoulder to wrist, matching the patchwork of skin tones on the rest of the cyborg’s body.
“Camus,” the cyborg says reverently, “You’re back! Oh, I knew you couldn’t stay away forever. What can I get for you, sweetheart?”
Cam chuckles as she wraps him in a hug. The cyborg’s metal joints creak alarmingly, but neither of them pay it any attention. “I’m not here for me, Audrey. I wanted to introduce you to a friend.”
Risa’s eyes widen as the sheer force of Audrey’s cheer is directed towards her. “It’s nice to meet you,” she begins smoothly, but she’s interrupted by Audey eagerly beaming towards her.
“Oh, what a dear! Cam, if anyone else in this whole city came up to me with a human girl I’d be absolutely dumbfounded, but this makes complete sense. You’re just quick like that, my boy. Always on top of the trends.”
Risa frowns, not aware that finding a human who crash-landed on your planet was considered a popular trend. Cam looks as if he’s trying not to laugh, and quickly steers Audrey’s attention back to him by speaking up. “Actually, I was hoping you could do us a quick favor. This is Risa. She needs to meet up with some of her friends, but she’s on the run. You wouldn’t be able to help disguise her a little bit, would you?”
Audrey claps her hands together. “A project! I love it. How much can I do?”
“Very little,” Risa rushes to say. “I’m perfectly fine the way I am. I just don’t want to be immediately recognized, that’s all.”
A disappointed frown tugs Audrey’s fuschia lips down into a depressed crescent. “Are you sure? I would love to do a full makeover. It’s been so long since I had a willing customer.”
From the way she’s eyeing Risa, it’s unclear whether that means there haven’t been customers or that there haven’t been victims. Either way, Risa’s not entirely thrilled with it. She sends a pleading look towards Cam, but he just smiles placatingly. “This is a good thing, Risa. If the Juvey-cops are after you like you say, you need a disguise. Camouflage. To go incognito.”
Audrey nods, her head jerking up and down like a puppet on a string. “Very true, Cam. Very true. I’ll go get my things, sweetheart. You’ll be thrilled with the final look, I guarantee it.”
As Audrey disappears into the back of the shop again, Risa turns to Cam. “This is why we’re here? You wanted me to get a disguise?”
“That, and I wanted to say goodbye,” Cam says. His face is quiet, but the lights at his temple are a soft, somber blue. “I’m not coming back to the city when you leave.”
“You’re coming with us,” Risa says, trying not to sound surprised. “No, that makes perfect sense. I couldn’t just abandon you after you helped me like this.”
“I’m not coming with you,” Cam specifies. “I’m just going offworld.”
Risa frowns. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“All of the cyborgs in this city have tags embedded subcutaneously,” Cam says conversationally. “I believe I removed mine, but I can never be sure. I will not risk your endeavor by allowing them to track me while I travel with you. All I ask is for one pod so I can make my way in the worlds. I would like to see the galaxy. I can be a tourist. A traveler. An adventurer.”
Risa nods. “Of course. Anything.”
Cam turns to her with the most hopeful expression when she says this that Risa, for the first time all day, is quite grateful to see Audrey hurrying back into the room, arms laden with supplies. Risa takes the excuse of helping to take some of the products from Audrey to escape the soft, naked longing in Cam’s eyes, and when they’re finished setting everything out, Cam has managed to focus again.
Risa is steered into one of the high styling chairs under the room. Every time she moves, dust is sent showering to the floor beneath her, but Audrey seems not to notice. She bustles around Risa, peering at her face from a position so close that Risa can feel the cyborg’s breath hot on her cheeks. If the proximity weren’t unsettling enough, the fact that each inhale and exhale, no matter when Audrey is moving or speaking, is exactly the same duration, only adds fuel to the fire.
“I think I’ll touch up your hair,” Audrey announces at last. “Lighten it up a little, at least. You’d be surprised what a change of color and texture can do to transform somebody. And then we’ll probably do a pigment injection, too. Just in case.”
Risa freezes. “A what?”
“Pigment injection,” Audrey says crisply, picking up a syringe from the pile of goods she’s assembled and waving it happily at Risa. “It’ll change your eye color. Loads of people have it done.”
Risa wants to ask whether that means actual human beings or cyborgs, because the difference is quite important to her. The syringe looks nasty, with the tip bearing at least a dozen miniscule needles arranged in a circle.
She swallows faintly. “What about if we just do the hair?”
“Nonsense,” Audrey says breezily. “You want to be disguised, don’t you? This’ll work like a charm.”
Risa glances at Cam for backup, but he’s wandered off to the far side of the salon, peering with great interest at a panel of old styling holos. So much for sticking by her no matter what.
Audrey hovers right in front of her, flesh and metal fingers curled so tightly around the handle of a hairbrush that Risa is stunned it hasn’t snapped off yet. “Can I start then, dearie? Can I start?”
Risa nods, but Audrey remains in place, practically vibrating from tension. “Yes,” Risa says, when it becomes clear that Audrey is waiting for approval, “You can start. Go ahead.”
The cyborg sags forward in relief. “Thank you, dearie. Thank you.”
And so begins the strangest makeover of Risa’s life. Technically, it’s the only makeover of Risa’s life, but even without prior experience Risa knows this is uncommon. All of Audrey’s tools bear the marks of age; the brushes are all missing bristles, the combs have teeth knocked out of them like they’ve lost a fight, and even the blow dryer has to be whacked repeatedly against the table before it turns on all the way.
Audrey’s hands shake the whole time, no matter how the cyborg tries to contain herself. At first, Risa is afraid for her hair, but it becomes clear that even with the loss of motor control, Audrey’s makeover skills are nothing to doubt. Even still, receiving the pigment injection takes more than a little bit of trust on Risa’s end.
At the end, though, Audrey wheels Risa’s chair around to face one of the cracked mirrors and Risa is greeted with the sight of a figure that logically has to be Risa but seems like a different girl altogether. The reflection’s hair is lighter, closer to auburn, and falls in highlighted curls past her shoulders. Her eyes are green, but not piercing. The shade oddly reminds Risa of the lights on Cam’s temple when he’s pleased about something, which is a comparison she probably shouldn’t have made, but she can’t help it.
Audrey is poised by Risa’s shoulder, grinning hopefully. “What do you think?”
“It’s lovely,” Risa says honestly. “You’re excellent at this.”
Audrey beams proudly. “Oh, you’re too sweet. I can tell why you and Cam get along.”
Upon hearing his name, Cam wanders back over to rejoin the group. He stares at Risa’s changed countenance, mumbling the expected compliments to Audrey’s labor when asked but refusing to look away. Risa feels her cheeks heat up and breaks the staring contest first by gazing pointedly at the ground until he turns away.
Audrey claps her hands together, sending a low metallic thunk through the quiet salon. “That was so much fun! Cam, dear, you’re next. What’ll it be?”
Cam laughs, the sound clipped and punctual. “I don’t need anything, Audrey. I think we’ll be on our way now, actually.”
Audrey’s face falls. “Really? I can’t convince you to stay any longer? At least tell me you’ll be back soon. I miss your company whenever you’re out.”
The cyborg’s hands sag by her sides, and Risa can’t help but feel a rush of compassion for her. Looking at Audrey in the middle of this desiccating salon, she’s forcefully reminded again of an abandoned dollhouse. Audrey has been placed here with her disintegrating tools and products, a stylist with no clients on a planet with no escape. At some point, the last of her mechanical parts will fail her, and then the salon owner will join the salon in the empty ashes of what had once been a grand experiment.
Cam’s smile is only a smile in name, his eyes bleak and despairing. “Of course, Audrey. I’ll be back soon. Don’t wait up.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Audrey assures him, “I’ll just tend to the other clients, then.”
The worst part is that she’s not even sarcastic, but genuinely hopeful that there will soon be others. It hasn’t occurred to her yet that no one else is coming. It hasn’t occurred to her that no one ever will.
Cam takes one last despairing look around him, then ushers Risa out of the salon and into the cold air of the city once more. Even when they’re out of Audrey’s lonely clutches, though, the grief on Cam’s face refuses to lessen. 
“She’s been getting worse as of late, but Audrey has always been a good friend to me,” he whispers. Cam glances back at the shop behind them a few times as they go, like he’s trying to convince himself not to return. 
“And she’ll still be your friend,” Risa says soothingly. “No one would blame you for wanting to leave. If she knew, she would be happy for you.”
Cam’s expression drops. “Would she?”
Risa can’t answer that, so she waits for them to cross the street before changing the subject. “So, how did Audrey come to be in charge of the salon? Are there other stylists in the area? How’s the competition?”
Cam doesn’t laugh, but the lights at his temple shift from desolate gray to a lighter yellow. “No one else, just Audrey. We were all put here with a task in mind. There’s a doctor, a teacher, a baker. They made the streets and shops and made cyborgs for each task. They wanted to make a real town, and that needs a lot of different types of people.”
Risa glances around at the shuttered windows and locked doors. “I can see that. Where’s your place?”
“I don’t have one,” Cam says coldly. “This isn’t my home.”
Risa frowns. “I don’t get it. If you take care of the others like this, and you’ve got friends like Audrey, why wouldn’t you stay in the city all the time?”
Cam’s face twists. “They don’t like me as much,” he admits. “Said I was too different. Too human.” From the way he says it, Risa can tell it’s not a good thing. “They let me visit in short intervals, but they always get uneasy when I stay too long. I think I remind them too much of the scientists.”
What a terrible fate. Not human enough for the scientists to stay. Too human for the other cyborgs to want him around. Constantly bouncing back and forth between the city and the outskirts, allowed to stay only to help but never to linger. No wonder he wants to leave; Risa is surprised he even takes care of the others despite them consistently rejecting him. That shows his humanity more than anything.
“Well,” she says slowly, “It’s a good thing we’re getting out of here, isn’t it?”
Cam’s lips start to prick up again. “It is.”
They make it to the lab buildings at last. Cam shows her how to sneak in through a back entrance. Although most of the other structures in the area have been pillaged for spare parts, the lab complex is almost pristine save for a thick layer of dust covering anything. Cam tells her that the other cyborgs are afraid of what happened within these walls, which keeps out intruders. It’s a good sign for the two of them, although there’s no guarantee that anything in here actually works.
They search the building methodically for some sort of comms center, anything that might be capable of producing a transmission that could travel beyond the reaches of this star system. It takes at least an hour or two, but eventually they track down a room filled with banks of equipment. Risa’s no expert on communication systems, but after all the time she’s spent around Hayden, her knowledge is at least passable, and that’s good enough for her.
Risa pauses before she begins her transmission. “How do I know this won’t just bring the Juvey-cops down on our heads? They’re probably scouring the galaxy for kids from the Graveyard.”
Cam tilts his head to the side, considering this. “You said that your friend Hayden did a lot of work with communications. Did he have a channel he used? A signal, just for him? If you know the code, we can put it in and send transmissions only on its line. Connor could pick it up too if he remembers it.”
“That’s a good idea,” Risa muses. It takes her a little bit to remember Hayden’s signal, but she manages to plug in the necessary codes soon enough. After that, all that’s left to do is record.
Risa raises the receiver to her lips, breathes out slowly, and presses a button to start. “Hey, Connor. This is Risa. If you can hear me– well, you’re alive, and that’s a relief. I made it out, but I’m stuck on a planet somewhere near the Graveyard. My pod was damaged and I can’t leave, but I can’t stay here, either. I don’t know your situation, but I need you, Connor.  I’m on–”
She pauses for a moment, turning to Cam, who’s doing his best to seem as if he isn’t hovering on her every word. “Where are we, again?”
“Molokai,” he supplies. “Outer edge of the H-I star sector.”
Risa flashes him a grateful smile, which Cam eagerly reciprocates, then repeats the name into the receiver. “I’m on Molokai. Find me, Connor. Please.”
Risa stalls on the line, trying to think of something, anything else to say, but the words don’t come. She has no use for long, extended sentences. Either Connor is out there somewhere, alive and able to find her, or she’ll never see him again. Regardless, one more paragraph from her isn’t going to affect either of them all that much.
She presses the button to end the transmission with one trembling finger. Wherever he is, she hopes that Connor can hear her. Maybe he’s coming. Maybe, after all of this time, she can still have him. Only time will tell.
a/n sorry again for the delay, hope you enjoy this chapter! aaa i have been waiting to write about cam FOREVER i was looking forward to this since like chapter three lmao
unwind tag list: @schroedingers-kater, @sirofreak, @locke-writes
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null1ty · 4 months ago
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doodles :D !!
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i saw a head canon abt Conner playing basketball and i COULDNT stop thinking about it…. So i drew it :)
+ baseball Lev !!!
Im working on another drawing like the last two that arent doodles & are fully shaded, but idk when ill finish it, and i KINDA wanna post daily Unwind stuff but idk how long thatll last before i get burned out/art block
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luckytidbit · 5 months ago
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Inked traditionally, coloured digitally. (Scan in under cut)
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robotstrategy · 3 months ago
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Rediscover • Part 1 • 6 - Owen
Previous • Series Masterlist • Part 1 Masterlist • Next
A guy, no older than 16, places a tray of dinner rolls into a hotplate. Owen has never been one for kids, or for people in general, but he’s got to get his volunteer hours in somehow. This summer camp seems well funded, almost to a suspicious amount. He was surprised that there was an industrial dishwasher in the kitchen, he didn’t expect one, not like he’d complain about it though, dishwashing is no one’s favourite activity. The only thing to complain about is that he’ll have to wait until everyone else is done getting their food, he’ll have to watch them get all the good stuff leaving him with scrap. Tonight is a basic turkey dinner, something everyone will like, or at least pretend to. 
As the last bit of food is placed a school bus-sized group of people come forth to the buffet. Owen hands out tapioca pudding cups at the end of the line as he side-eyes all the food dwindling and being replaced by more. As the amount of people slows down and seems more self-manageable Owen goes over to eye how much dark meat is left. He makes eye contact with the kid across the counter, trying to make small talk when he asks. “I wonder how this place is so well funded?” 
The kid looks him in the eyes, he has a nasty scar that goes from his eye to his ear and runs down his neck and shoulder and there’s something wrong with his eye. “It’s a chop shop.” He says. Owen looks at him in bewilderment. “What? no.” He laughs, “This looks nothing like a chop shop, those things are probably terrifying.” 
The guy just stares at him and shakes his head in disappointment almost as if he’s disqualified him from something before he moves on to the next hot tray. 
The next person to come up scares Owen, he’s got hair like a morning star and he smirks as he eyes Owen. “Saw you looking at the dark meat, must be pretty good.” He takes a small piece of it as if almost tempting Owen in the process. “Umm, yeah it looked really good when it came out of the oven.” 
The boy takes another piece. “Hmm, wow, do you think they seasoned it?” 
“Uhh, yeah they even put the stuffing in it when it was cooking and erm..” 
“Oh, sounds amazing, well, I might just have a little more.” Owen looks down as the boy leaves just a portion of dark meat left, he looks defeated as a masked man around his weight, but not his physique comes over to the hot tray. He looks up at Owen, or… somewhere around him, he really can’t tell with the mask. Owen almost goes to look behind him before the man angrily sighs, Owen watches the man jolt his head over to the boy and whispers. “Fucking pig,” Under his breath, he then turns back to Owen, who looks at him as if he’s at the will of a god. 
The man sighs, “Do you want the last bit of dark meat?” 
Owen sadly brushes him off, “No it’s fine, you take it, and if you don’t someone behind you will take it anyway.” 
“I’m not asking you if I should leave it alone, I’m asking you if you want me to save it for you.” 
Owen looks him in the eyes, or, rather, the blue square on his mask. “That, that, would be nice.” He stutterers out. 
“Cool, I’ll save you a spot at the far left table.” 
Owen becomes content and less begrudging about handing food out after that, knowing he’ll at least have some of his favourite food waiting for him. Before he can serve himself some of the adult staff come up to be served. A woman wearing a white pantsuit with a sunshine yellow blouse comes up to him, just as she’s about to speak when a security guard rushes up to her and whispers something in her ear. She frowns before looking back at Owen and waving the guard off. “You must be Owen, I’ve heard a lot about you. Not really a fan of kids?” 
Owen shakes his head, “No ma’am just here for volunteer hours.” 
“Well, I hope everyone is treating you well.”
“Well, actually…” Suddenly Owen realizes that all of the staff's eyes are on him. 
“Spit it out dear! No one is here to judge you.” She says with a smile. 
“This boy with spiky hair kept teasing me over the last bit of dark meat, it’s not really a problem though.” 
The woman’s lips curved higher than they were before. “Oh, you mean Keegan, yes I’ve heard of him, he will be dealt with.” 
Owen panics and waves his hands. “No, really ma’am, it’s not a problem!” 
She simply hums before moving on to the next tray, which makes Owen worry that she’s taking justice over petty things into her own hands. 
Owen finally gets his hands on his own plate, and of course, skips out on the turkey. Once he goes to the far left table he sees the man he was talking to, an umber girl and a Turtlefolk guy. The man looks up at him, his mask is shifted upwards on the ring that goes around his head, leaving enough room for him to eat. “I wondered if you’d show up.” He stabs into the big piece of meat with his fork and lets Owen pry it off with his own. “Thanks, you really didn’t have to do that.” 
The man grunts. “I mother people, even if they don’t want to be mothered, I’ll stop doing it now… Though, I want to know something,” He turns to Owen. “Is that the first time Keegan has annoyed you?” 
“Who?” 
“Keegan, the spiky-haired guy.” The Turtlefolk guy responds.
“Oh, umm, yeah,” He answers sheepishly. “I hope it doesn’t happen again, a woman over there said he’d be dealt with, but, the last time an adult tried to step in the bullying got worse.” 
“Maybe not the best way to deal with it.” The umber girl tells him. 
“Honestly, I hope he gets Karma, if he wants to play stupid games, he’ll win stupid prizes,” The man turns towards him. “My name is Roland by the way, and this is Gigi and Mathieu, nice people, but you’ll probably be seeing me more anyway since I’m not taking care of kids.” 
“I’m Owen, nice to meet you.” Owen shakes his hand, the way Roland introduced himself and the other had Owen thinking he created a gang and was inviting Owen into it. Considering Roland's generosity with the dark meat and their sympathies towards his concerns, Owen didn’t think he’d mind being in Roland’s gang at all.
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linesfromapubliclibrary · 5 years ago
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In a perfect world everything would be either black or white, right or wrong, and everyone would know the difference. But this isn't a perfect world. The problem is people who think it is.
Unwind - Neal Shusterman
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tinstol · 5 years ago
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Obsessions of the 2010′s: Unwind Dystology by Neal Shusterman (2007-2015)
“They loved God more than they loved me, and I hate them for it.”
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luvvsoft · 10 months ago
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hi ml 💘 okay idk if ur requests are still open + this is my first time requesting but i’m dumping this here,, anyways
could u possibly do another connor lassiter x reader? preferably slow burn angst with a very fluffy ending but honestly idgaf atp i’m starving 🤧
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pairing: connor lassiter x reader
contains: angst with a fluff ending, slow burn, insecurities, misunderstandings, love triangle, connor can’t choose lassiter
word count: 1.9k
author’s notes: hi!! tysm for requesting and yes, my requests are always open at any time! i’m always open to suggestions from my readers, especially concerning unwind since i love it sm<3
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You’ve known Connor since you were little kids. You grew up together — as neighbors, always playing together. From all the time spent together you considered him your best friend, even if you knew he didn’t think much of you.
In your heart, you knew you were not enough to consider him your friend, but you were selfish. You wanted Connor to see you as more than the annoying neighbor who constantly wanted to hang out with him, more than someone who was just pleading for an ounce of attention in his eyes. You wished he was happier with you than he was with fighting his parents.
Maybe if you tried hard enough to keep him away from fights — from meaningless arguments with peers, with his mom and dad — you wouldn’t have to hear his parents talking about an unwind order. Maybe if you dragged him away whenever he caused trouble for no apparent reason, you wouldn’t have to watch as Connor did everything in his power to make his parents regret their decision.
You watched as Connor studied to get that B+ in his science exam, as he gave his mother flowers. You silently watched as he turned into a shadow of the person he used to be, but it wasn’t enough. When was it ever enough? When could parents ever change their mind after they signed off on their children’s lives?
You watched as the time neared for Connor to go. You watched as he grew fearful, as trepidation crawled up his spine as if it could happen at any moment. You watched as he made the plan to leave— as you never crossed his mind even once.
You watched, that was all you ever did. You watched as the one you loved pleaded for his love to run away with him. You watched as she agreed, and wondered would you? You were sure you would. You’d trade the world to have Connor in your arms.
Finally, you watched as Ariana told Connor she wouldn’t go with him— she had a life — he no longer did. You watched as Connor crumbled, as he fell into the deep ends of his pain: the pain inflicted by the very people he called “parents.” Then and there, you decided it was fine if Connor didn’t love you, as long as he was happy.
You came up to Connor after Ariana revealed she wouldn’t go with him.
“How about you and I?” you asked softly, kneeling down near him.
“What about that?” he answered, taking a moment to throw you a look before resuming what you assumed was his spiraling. You couldn’t blame him, you would react similarly.
“I’ll go with you, Connor; wherever you want to go,” You brushed a stray hair out of his eye. “Just say the word.”
“What if I say now?”
You didn’t lie to him when you said that, quite the opposite. You followed him, did as he wanted while trying your best to keep him out of trouble.
You followed him as he got captured and tried to free himself. You followed as he met Risa, as he met Levi too.
Oh, how you hated the day Connor and Risa met. You hated it all: how she slowly started replacing you while he forgot you, how she became the glue that kept the group together, how she was, just to put it simply, better than you.
You slowly went from being part of his life to once again becoming a spectator. You were watching, again.
You saw how Connor looked at Risa. The softened eyes, the small tug at the lips you longed to kiss, the calmness and serenity that he exuded when she was around. You saw it all, of course you did, and you wished, oh you wished, you were her.
You wished just once he’d pick you. You were there since childhood, since you were kids. And yet, as soon as some other girl comes around, he’s interested.
Why? Why could he never see you? Why were you destined to yearn for a soul that did not reciprocate? Why was kismet so cruel? Why did it torture you so?
Why were you forced to watch as the one you loved fell for another? Why would your hearts never intertwine?
Even if you thought the opposite, Connor saw you. He’s always noticed you in his shadow, as if that was all you were meant to be.
Connor saw how you were always the first willing to help him— always willing to clean his bloody knuckles and nose after he just fought. You were the first one to actually try, and not give up on him after the first sign of him being, well, him. You were always there to help him study, to keep him out of trouble.
Connor liked you, he did. He just had no idea how to show you, not when you were always lingering, but never fully present. He had no idea how to take you out of your shell as a kid.
The brunette had been making progress to get to know you, even if most of it was just you scolding him. He used his fights as a way to push you towards him, to get you to open up when you were so mysterious.
Connor thought he liked you until he met his then girlfriend, Ariana.
After meeting her, all his feelings for you evaporated, never given a chance to come to light. He became fixated on her, just her, with no room for you. Soon, you reverted back to that shadow he worked so hard to get you out of. But he didn’t notice, not when all his attention was on her.
Following the fallout with Ariana, you two became close or as close as he would allow you. You became a constant in his life: a pillar of support. But that’s all you ever were, a continuance— never to become a change.
If only Connor noticed how you looked at him like he had crafted the skies, the earth, the stars, by hand. If only he realized his feelings weren’t unrequited — quite the opposite — you loved him. If only he realized the tightening of his throat and sweaty palms whenever you were around weren’t anxiety.
If only he gave you his focus once again. But he wouldn’t, not when Risa was in front of him, and all he could think about was her. Her pretty green eyes that reminded him of the grass blowing in the wind, her brown hair — almost like his, but not quite, her charming yet tough personality.
Everyone saw the signs: Connor was a fool in love. And you wished to be the one the fool loved.
They knew Connor was in love, but did they know it was two people? Did they know he laid awake at night wondering, questioning why his feelings came back for you?
Was it the sickly sweet domestic sight of you helping the kids in Sonia’s basement? Was it how kind and pure you remained despite the world you were dragged into? Was it that you were always there every step of the way for Connor, but he didn’t bother for you?
Maybe it was everything. Maybe it was the longing for someone who understood him. Risa understood Connor, but only to an extent, where as you, you knew Connor.
You knew who Connor was and what he stood for, even if those morals had been slightly fractured. You could recognize Connor amongst a sea of Connors. You, it was always you.
Connor couldn’t fool himself now. He understood the feelings that brewed inside him before. He understood what the tingle he got whenever you touched him was. He understood what the fastening of his heartbeat around you was.
Connor understood so much, yet so little at the same time. But, did it really matter when he knew he wanted you? Did anything when all he saw was you in his dreams? Laying there while he reached across to touch your hair and bring you close. While he inhaled your comforting scent. Waking only to find you across the room, leaving him with a soulful ache.
He came up to you while you were with the kids. “Can we talk?” he whispered into your ear, tickling it in the process and leading to goosebumps dotting across your skin.
You silently stood and nodded, promising the children vying for your attention you’d be back.
You both stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity before he spoke up. “I..I don’t know how to tell you, but I just wanted to say I’ve always noticed you. Despite what you think, I appreciate everything you’ve done, how nurturing you’ve been. How you still care for me even if I just toss you aside.”
“Connor, if this is you telling me you don’t want me around anymore, I get it. It’s fine, don’t drag it out,” You interrupted, your tearing heart begging you to put an early end to the conversation.
“What? No, no. Don’t think that. I would never want that from you, ever.”
“Then why did you bring me here? Please, tell me. The children want me back and I don’t think this is a good idea, your girlfriend is looking at us,” You tilted your head behind him, directing him to look at a staring Risa.
“Risa’s not my girlfriend, and why should I care who’s looking?” Connor stopped in the middle of his sentence, as if he was thinking before continuing on. “Let’s give them a reason to look.”
He then grabbed your head, pulling you closer to his body and crashing your lips together.
You were in shock, but soon melted into the kiss. It was slow, passionate, and full of hidden emotions, by both you and Connor. The kiss revealed things you wouldn’t dare say out loud before, until now.
As much as you wanted it to continue, as much as you wanted to indulge in your daydreams becoming true, you pulled away.
“Why..why would you do that?” you whispered out, watching the string of saliva that connected you both.
“I thought actions spoke louder than words.”
“You’ll be the death of me someday, Connor.”
“I just want you to know that I have loved you since we were kids, even if I didn’t show it,” Connor slowly said, like he was a sailor out in uncharted waters. Maybe this was uncharted waters, you’d never done anything of the sort with him.
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You heard the door close, signaling that Connor was home.
You heard his soft sigh next, with accompanied shuffling until he stepped foot into the living room. Connor laid down next to you, setting his face on your shoulder and his arms around your waist.
“Long day?” you whispered out before flipping the page of the book currently keeping you occupied.
“Mhm, so many things to do, yet so little time,” Connor responded before pressing a kiss into your shoulder.
You set your book down then looked at him, “How about I run you a bath?”
“Join me.”
You gave him one last kiss before getting up, “Come on then. I made your favorite.”
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