#mmfr bladerunner crossover

[kirkypet]

MMFR Bladerunner crossover - shitty moodboard #2

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[kirkypet]

MMFR Bladerunner crossover

Do Androids Dream on the Fury Road?

Take Fury Road, drop it just before the events of Blade Runner (1982), and you get THIS.

Background:

Los Angeles, 2018. A global financial crisis drags on. The super-rich have migrated to a luxurious gated community off-planet, whilst economic migrants eke out a living on the Off-World colonies.  

The introduction of fully biological replicants had been greeted with fascination and awe back in ’96, when the economy was booming and optimism was the order of the day. But then came the Millennium Data Crash.  

After the loss of so many birth registry and replicant inception records on 31st December 1999, the question of replicant vs born human identity grew from a satirical joke into paranoia. Those without documents feared for their legal status. Migrants and those with neurodivergent traits were particularly vulnerable; “skinjob” became a playground taunt. Uncertainty sowed the seeds of distrust and bitterness that would flourish with the recession.

After decades of research, the Voigt-Kampf empathy test now distinguishes replicant from born with 75% accuracy, but public confidence continues to be low.

Ten years on, the true causes of the financial crisis are forgotten and replicants are a universal scapegoat.

Disclaimer:  

This started life as a writing prompt I posted on Tumblr after getting bored watching Blade Runner 2049. I really didn’t want to write this myself, but within about a day I was writing it myself (a cautionary tale). But, as a first reluctant attempt at writing action and angst and something non-shippy, it was a nice challenge. Please educate me on Blade Runner canon! This’ll end up on ao3 eventually as ‘Do Androids Dream on the Fury Road?’

I’ve tried to make it make sense, now I’m off for a sleep.  

[kirkypet]

MMFR Bladerunner crossover

Previous

Part 37

They drove in stunned silence for a while, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Crammed in as they were, feeling alone was impossible, and that was the only thing keeping Dag together.

Joe’s spinner was overloaded, the energy cell running low and forcing them to stay at ground level. It might’ve been an unwise move to abandon the truck, but they’d had to think quick, and get away quick, for so many reasons.

They already had one corpse on their hands and Furiosa looked likely to be another. It was easier to shift the living than the dead, so they all piled into the one working Spinner. The second one was out of action, shot up and the front end smashed in, so those who didn’t fit took to their bikes.

The War Boys, no longer pinned down by the Vuvalini snipers, were heading back to their vehicles and would be after them in no time. Some were down, others had bolted. Probably the ones who’d shot that sleazy bean counter while trying to hit the Witness. But there were still enough of them determined to give chase.

They left the truck. It was big and slow, and had been followed too easily. Nux said he could block the road with it, and follow on one of the bikes. It’d been a good idea, such a good idea.

But Dag had forgotten about Rictus. They all had. He’d come to and seemed to be quite angry at the turn of events. Angry enough to grab a six-foot girder and start bashing at the truck in frustration. Then grab his ever-present flamer and, howling, start after the earthbound spinner. They’d watched, hearts in their mouths, as a wide-eyed Nux started the truck’s engine and began to move off, swerving to avoid hitting the man. Three seconds later there was a flash, a boom, and the truck leapt sideways and overturned.

They had no choice but to keep moving.

Part 38

Cheedo leaned over the back of the passenger seat and whispered “Toast wants to know where we’re going.”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea. Furiosa said her old school is near here” Capable suggested. “Can’t remember the name, but it sounded something religious. They’ll have to take her in. It’s a church thing. Sanctuary, that’s it.”

“There’s a Sacred Heart of Our Holy…” Dag began, peering down at Keep’s laptop.

“Yes! That’s it! Go there!”

“…says it’s a boys’ school, though. Sure that’s it?”

“Furi, was it Sacred Heart?” Capable asked Furiosa, in a whisper.

“Sacr…” Furiosa’s eyelids fluttered open briefly, and closed again.

“Is it nearby? Go there. It’ll be safer than a hospital.”

“What you on about? We haven’t done anything wrong!” Toast called over her shoulder.

“Dunno if the cops‘d agree with you there” Althea chipped in tiredly from the footwell. “We’re in a stolen spinner. And there’s a dead man in the trunk, in case you’ve forgotten. Best to keep our heads down for a bit. Avoid any paperwork?”

“This is gonna be awkward.” Toast shook her head, but didn’t offer any argument.

“Y’know what?…I doubt it” Dag looked up from the screen. “Looks like it’s closed down. But if its on the map, presumably it’s still standing. We can break in, stay there on the quiet.”

Capable, whose visions of a helpful nun or priest ushering them into a cloistered solitude were fading under this scrutiny, was relieved by this development. “Oh. Okay then” her vision altering accordingly. “That’s better. We can hide out, keep our heads down for a while.”

Next chapter

[kirkypet]

MMFR Bladerunner crossover

Previous

Part 24

”So, how have you been? What have you been doing all these years?”

Furiosa took a deep breath. She didn’t really want to have to tell her life story, not right now, with the Witness over there messing with his boot and the girls probably within earshot too.

But this Val was too easy to tell things to, she WANTED to tell. Ace was still a raw wound and Angharad…Furiosa had a nauseous feeling that her confidences were a curse, that whoever she unburdened herself to would die. But that was stupid. Besides, they all should know what they were dealing with.

“There’s this man, we’ve got to…” she gritted her teeth “…end him. He’s…Head of Resources at Tyrell. But he’s a fucking psychopath. He’s killed people, and he’s after us.” Furiosa’s words were stumbling over each other in their haste to get out. “Okay…” Val narrowed her eyes and looked sideways.

“Say the word and we’ll keep driving.” Furiosa wondered why she said that. They needed these people. She shouldn’t be talking them out of helping her.

Val looked up at Furiosa. There was a steely look in her eye, and a mirthless smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “He’ll have to come through us first.”

The look on Val’s face certainly inspired confidence. Finally, had they reached their destination? She sagged with relief but murmured, with a sad smile “That’s what I’m afraid of.” “Don’t be afraid.”

Val rested her forehead against Furiosa’s for a moment. “We take care of our own.”

Part 25

“I was in a kind of school…for kids with no family. Mum was gone by then, I must’ve been very young when she died…We had lots of scrap metal, we would rebuild whatever we could. There were school hours too, but I liked the mechanical work. It was fine. Useful, really. Built this…” she held up her left arm, wiggled the fingers of her prosthetic.

Val’s brow furrowed with concern, and Furiosa went on hurriedly. She wanted to get to the point, but it all seemed to come to her through a fog. When had she slept last?

“Then, when I was nearly sixteen, Tyrell came looking for interns. Not himself, of course, his Procurement people. Moore was Head of Procurement back then, so it wasn’t long before I got to meet him. The school were more than happy…I’d be leaving in a few months…this way they’d get a tidy fee from Tyrell. “I was put in Organic Recycling...which is exactly what it sounds like. So, I pushed for promotion to Security. Got that after about three years. This was just after the crash, LAPD had just been privatised, so that’s how I got my badge.”

“In the beginning, I was placed with a mentor” Furiosa’s eyes stung as she spoke “He was a genetic engineer. And he kept a kind of hostel for new interns. Just a few rooms, there were never that many of us at a time. I was the only one staying there when he died.” She cleared her throat. “Was killed.” She was surprised at how numb she felt in the telling.

Val put a hand on hers, tipped her head enquiringly.

Furiosa went on. “He was my friend, and I’m pretty sure I got him killed.”

Now she felt arms around her, she rested her head on the woman’s shoulder, and squeezed her eyes shut. Just for a moment though. She wasn’t done. “Long story short…” she gripped Val’s arm “we’re running from a man with an private army of replicants, who keeps women locked up, who kills people who get in his way. And, I might be going crazy here, but…” she looked up at her new friend “…I think he’s the one who killed my mother.”

“This Moore guy?” Furiosa nodded. She was so tired. “Right”

Val put her hand on Furiosa’s shoulder. “We’re gonna fix this, okay? But first you need to sleep. You look like you’re about to to drop.”

She gave her a pull up and look her into a freight container that looked much less comfortable outside than it did in.

“Magda’s made you up beds in here. It’s kinda rough but” she waved a hand around “you see how it is. Probably changed some from what you remember.”

“Yeah” Furiosa laughed. She didn’t know what she was saying anymore. Sleep.

Part 25

“Phew”

“Some crazy shit.” Val and Keep exchanged glances, spoke in low voices.

“What we gonna do?”

“Stand and fight. What else can we do?”

“This Moore guy sounds like the worst.”

“Fixated on power and pussy.” Keep nodded sagely.

“Hm?”

“The girls tell me he’s got this weird thing about childbirth, and making an heir to prove he’s human. Or some shit. No-one’s valid unless they’ve passed ‘the sacred portal’”

“Oh no…” Val groaned. “Not those girls?”

“And Furiosa, maybe.” Keep tightened her lips, resigned to the worst.

“I hope not. She didn’t mention it…” Val recollected the conversation. “Mainly talked about how much of a murdering bastard he is. She thinks he killed Mary.”

Keep seized her shotgun. “There you go then. We look after our own” Raising her voice, “Y’hear that girls? We look after our own. And that goes for you too, Silent Bob!”

She pointed at the man who now sat by the door of the container where Furiosa slept. Good line of sight to the road there, she noted. Reliable seemed fair.

“Let’s get to work!”

“Where’s Furi?” the red-haired one asked.

“Sleeping, I hope.”

“Good. She’s been driving us two days straight. Trying to find somewhere safe.”

“This is as good a place as any.”

By the morning, they were ready. Any uninvited guests would meet with a cool welcome.

Next chapter

[kirkypet]

MMFR Bladerunner crossover

Previous

Part 46

Furiosa, Val and Max took a walk. A hobble, in Val’s case, but she was glad to cover more distance than a few metres. Furiosa had been itching to get out of bed for days and, besides, it was time.

She suspected something was wrong, Val and Max had both seen it, the way she looked round the room. At the cracked plaster, the mildewed curtains. Her eye was no longer swollen, there would be no more hiding the truth, whatever it was. This walk would confirm it.

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“This” Furiosa stood looking up at the edifice. “This is not how I remember it.”

The image she had was of boys in plaid shirts playing chase and throwing ball. Over there was the workshop. God, she’d loved getting time in there. But it felt fractured, the image, like she was looking through a cracked pane of glass. She couldn’t see that memory and herself, Furiosa, at the same time.

Besides, time told no lies. This place had decayed from what she remembered, grown into something new, over a span of years greater than she’d ever known.

What did it matter really? asked a voice in her head, presumably the one tasked with keeping her from unraveling. It’s kind of liberating really. After all, hadn’t Max taken refuge in this very thing? To distance himself from bad memories. The thing was, Furiosa didn’t really have many traumatic memories, apart from what’d happened to her mother…to Mary. And she had only started to get flashes of that since Ace had been killed. And the Vuvalini wouldn’t turn her out, she knew that, really. It wasn’t so bad to have this life…

A sharp intake of breath. And then she shivered. But how long did she have? She started at a hand on her shoulder.

“Furiosa…it’s okay. It doesn’t matter, really it’ll be alright”

She struggled to control her breathing. It’s no different now, she told herself. Humans die. But she’d seen too many replicants be recycled. That would be her. Had she really done that job? She didn’t KNOW anything anymore.

“Furiosa. Look at me. It’s going to be alright. Tell her, Max.”

Furiosa was distracted from her panic by the evident non-verbal conversation going on between the two of them. She’d been expecting more platitudes but, instead, Max fished something from his pocket, fidgeted and cleared his throat. But it was Val who spoke.

“Max thinks his blood might be a cure for…might keep you well. Keep you with us.”

Furiosa looked doubtfully at Max, remembering how unbalanced he’d seemed when she tackled him only a week and a half ago. Seemed like a different person now though, as he looked her straight in the eye and nodded. “It’s the best chance we’re gonna get.” He handed a dog eared document to her.

Furiosa took the proffered paper. “What’s this?” She turned it right-side up and read...

Eldon Tyrell Institute for Molecular Research.

LIFETIME Study

I, the undersigned, confirm that (please tick box as appropriate)…

She scanned through the legal jargon. At the bottom, a scrawled signature next to MAX ROCKATANSKY. And below, a name and a familiar signature that stopped her in her tracks. Ayber Comgille Eridson.

Her head whipped up to look at Max, her eyes wide with surprise.

“You knew Ace?”

Next chapter

[kirkypet]

MMFR Bladerunner crossover - shitty moodboard #1

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[kirkypet]

MMFR Bladerunner crossover

Previous

Part 47 Just when it seemed that everything that could happen had happened, Althea returned from one of her trips to the city with a strange woman in tow. A diminutive woman in a smart suit, looking distinctly out of place in Al’s second-hand pickup.

Furiosa’s reaction was quite remarkable. Cheedo had never seen Furiosa run before when she wasn’t about to beat the living shit out of someone. So it was noteworthy to see the normally austere woman go from standing to a solid sprint and it end in a bear hug.

She held her out at arms length and stared at her. “Jesus, Giddy, would you mind telling me where you’ve been all this time? You’ve kind of been on my conscience.”

The woman looked up at Furiosa with a sharp laugh. “I could ask you the same question. Well, you’ve been HERE, obviously, I see that now, but you’ve been well hidden.”

Furiosa looked something between pride and regret at this. Of course they’d HAD to hide, both from the law and whoever else might want to have words. But to anyone who cared about them, they were simply missing. But Furiosa was clearly as hungry for details as Cheedo was, since she skipped the small talk and asked right out.

“What’s really been going on, Giddy? You’re bound to have the inside story. The news networks are giving us nothing. Dag’s doing what she can with Keep’s code but is afraid to try anything big in case she gets traced.”

“Well, Tyrell…the company, not the man obviously - HIS troubles are over…is in total meltdown. Not that the press officer would ever admit it, of course.”

“Do you think it was linked to Moore? His dea…disappearance?”

“What do you already know?”

“Well...” Furiosa’s brow knotted. “Eldon Tyrell is dead. THAT much has been reported. Dag saw an Los Angeles Times email thread about a rogue replicant being the perpetrator. And an Offworld riot. I think that’s it. Hang on…Al? What was that National Enquirer story again?”

Althea cleared her throat and reluctantly replied. “Alien invaders crushed my husband’s skull.” Cheedo thought it ruined her dignified mien somewhat.

“Well, they originated on Earth, so they don’t qualify as aliens, but they had the head-crushing part right. At least that’s what Roy Batty did to Tyrell.”

Furiosa sighed. “Offworld replicants rebel within months of their false Immortan going AWOL with the Head of Accounting? How could they NOT be connected?”

“It’s been quite a coverup. The Offworlders were all brought down in the end. Tyrell’s killer was a hard one to take down, I heard…some say he wasn’t retired at all, that his time ran out…”

“Roy Batty. One of Moore’s best. He went to Valhalla to become a Real Boy.” Furiosa shook her head. She looked appalled at the outcome of their revenge. “But…” she shook herself “Giddy, rewind…they would’ve come for YOU, surely? I’m sorry...my infopad was compromised, I should’ve been more careful.”

“They did, but I snuck out through the bathroom window. I’ve kept a bag on the roof for emergencies for a while now. Plus, I’m a light sleeper.” she shrugged. “Kept my head down for a while, till I heard Moore was missing. Figured you had something to do with that, Boss.”

“Not just me.” Furiosa stiffened and tilted her head a little towards the group standing almost far enough off for privacy.

“Well, I’ve been looking for you ever since. Ayber’s will was read, did you know?”

Furiosa folded her arms and shook her head. She looked tense now, constrained.

“He left you his place, you know. And this.” Giddy handed over a metal box and an envelope with a key.

Next chapter

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MMFR Bladerunner crossover

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Part 32

Nux had nothing left to lose. No, that wasn’t quite true, but he could be nothing to Slit now, less than nothing. He was tainted by failure and death. Best to be forgotten.

The Immortan…it was still hard to call him Joe…he’d been a benevolent father to them all, or so it’d seemed. Nux had never seen him up close before yesterday, never had that honour, but he’d seemed like a kind, remote father, in his immaculate suit and his hair all golden and his beaming face and grand encouraging words. Especially those words on the War Boy crest “It Is By My Hand That You Will Rise From The Ashes Of This World”.

Nux had had a family, a scrapping brawling family of devoted brothers, and they would die for each other. He was blessed. At least those were his first year memories. They’d all been given the Talk at the very beginning, all in rows before the Big Screen. But Nux had been so taken up with the sheer excitement of living, the message just hadn’t hit home. It was only when he saw his older brothers winding down in their various ways that he realised his own clock was ticking, always had been.

The only way to stop the clock was to become one of the Immortan’s chosen, to Rise from the Ashes, to become a Real Boy in Valhalla.

Offworld was Capable’s name for it. Hundreds of people like him were there already, she’d said, as workers…no, slaves, that was the word…and they didn’t live any longer than they would right here, on the Ash.

Lies. Someone’s lies, but whose? Capable’s? Didn’t seem right. Could angels lie? Nux didn’t know. There were lots of things Nux didn’t know, he was learning more of them every minute. It still felt like a gainer though, finding out that there’s stuff to find out.

He’d overheard them say that Rictus himself had killed the Ace, that Furiosa saw his car leaving Ace’s Place just before she found him dead. That it wasn’t an accident, a fall. Nux wouldn’t have believed it yesterday, would’ve accused Furiosa of killing the Ace herself to traitor the Immortan some more.

In the coupe, Slit had declared he’d always thought Furiosa was up to something. He’d heard the Immortan was jealous that she was messing about with his best girl, and this stunt had proved it. Nux thought Slit was full of shit, but didn’t get around to saying so. He was too preoccupied with grabbing this last of opportunities. Besides, it was his last chance to prove himself and, if they were to go out together as a team, this was not a time for bickering.

Heart racing, he’d screamed out to the Immortan as he sped past. He wouldn’t have dared if he hadn’t been buzzed on a double snort of Can-D, but today was his day, such a lovely day too, and he would do no wrong. And he was rewarded with a glance! He was awaited, no doubt! It was HIS turn, just in time too. They were going to bring back Furiosa, him and Slit, make her pay for what she’d done. And, oh how he could drive. No one could ever give him the slip.

Yesterday had been a weird one, for sure. The weather and so much besides.

He’d had a huge dustup with Slit after the coupe’s engine got flooded. Not such a lovely day after all, he’d lamented, as they watched the lunk of a garbage truck plough on through the hammering rain while they sat like a pair of defective meatbags, water lapping round their boots. Slit had blamed Nux’s mediocre driving and Nux had got right into Slit’s face about his dumbass insistence that they could follow A HUGE TRUCK through a flood.

Slit had stormed off, presumably to find the others, leaving Nux TRYING to stay in a rage but slipping into a horrible numbness, sick to his stomach. It wasn’t supposed to go like this, not today, not his last day on this ash pile. He’d wanted Slit by his side, but Slit had called him scum and he’d called Slit worse, and now he had to KEEP MOVING because it hurt too much to stay still. So he splashed through the water in the direction the truck had gone.

He would have run til he dropped but only two blocks away there it was, pulled up in a halo of street light. The rain had stopped just as quickly as it began, and the reflections were beautiful. Maybe his luck was still in. Keep the faith. He shook himself and crept up close, found handholds and waited.

Part 33

And now an angel was soothing and breaking him by turns.

Nux wanted to die, even a Nothing Death, when Capable found him. He’d wished she would throw him off the truck again, right into traffic, like the other one had. He’d seen the Immortan’s best girl fall from the back of the truck, hit by the Immortan’s ride. Nux’s own Bloodbag driving the truck too, that added to the weight.

If he could crush his own skull, he would’ve. She’d stopped him, with her distracting voice and hair and hands. Her words made him tremble with…what? He couldn’t name the feeling, something halfway between nausea and relief.

His Immortan had promised them life, but had killed the man who was making that happen. His girls were escaping from him, not stolen away at all, that was pretty damn clear. Joe was coming after the nice Bloodbag for something that happened long ago, don’t know what. He’d fallen in with people who had no good things to say about Nux’s benevolent father. And here he was, providing covering fire for the traitoring Furiosa and her new friends here.

And why has he gone over to the enemy? Probably because they needed him. It felt good to be needed. It felt nice to belong. He’d been excommunicated for all of an hour and it had been awful. Here he had his own guardian angel, showing him how to die for SOMETHING.

The way things were going, Nux thought as he reloaded, he wasn’t going to be the only one.

Next chapter

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MMFR Bladerunner crossover

Previous

Part 29

It’s uncomfortable, being talked about. Especially when your conscience is giving you hell. He wasn’t happy to see the kid again, which made him even more guilty. But he’d had to get out of there. It became very obvious very quickly that it was not a healthy place for him to be.

The research program was technically voluntary but, when the alternative is a vagrancy charge, it’s questionable. What had they done with half his stuff, anyway? His car? He couldn’t even find his other boot when he skipped out.

At least he’d gotten a haircut and a shave out of it, though it’d been a heartstopping moment when they started buzzing at him like that. What were they even planning to do with him? He’d signed the papers but it wasn’t exactly informed consent. Fragments of old movies came trickling back into his memory. Scientists who recruited homeless people off the street tend not to be all that ethical, in general.

It was only when they’d paired him up with the kid that he found out what the project was trying to achieve. He hadn’t had to ask. The kid talked enough for both of them, plus some. “Hey Bloodbag, you gonna give me some more of that high-octane crazy blood?” was his standard greeting as he was wheeled in of a morning.

And he couldn’t blame anyone but himself for the crazy rep. He hadn’t exactly been a compliant patient at the beginning. The only one of his cohort that they’d had to keep sedated 24/7. And it’d freaked him out even more at first, being so woozy and woolly-headed, he was convinced they were bleeding him dry. Spent half a day staring at a saline drip feeding into one arm and a vacant cannula taped to the other before he was convinced it wasn’t blood loss that had him feeling so fuzzy.

They took blood once a day, but only a couple of vacutainers worth, he could spare that. That’s how it was at first, a daily visit from a nurse, siphoning off a little blood, a bowlful of some kind of gloop which didn’t taste of very much at all, and a top up of his sedative. He didn’t mind being kept calm. Not even HE wanted a repeat of the mad dash after they brought him in. He tried not to think about that.

They eased off on the drugs just after he got a visit from the boss scientist, the one with the coke-bottle glasses. He seemed very happy about something, asked if Mr Rockatansky would be willing to donate a LITTLE bit more blood, transfuse it directly into a patient. How they’d make sure it wouldn’t do him the slightest harm. Promised extra nutrients, financial recompense, all sorts of things. Max didn’t care much, as long as they left him enough to stay alive.

After that, it was the glasses guy every day, taking blood personally, checking how he was feeling and eventually asking if Max would feel okay with easing off of his dose of sedative. He’d be a blood donor soon, and the drug would affect the recipient. He’d got an idea of what they wanted with him, and it wasn’t as bad as his imagination had suggested. Besides, he was vaguely interested in what had got glasses guy so excited. He seemed like a decent guy, if weird. He’d occasionally mutter about Max’s ‘very obliging progenitor cells’ and his ‘remarkable telomerase’, which left Max both confused and amused.

Next day glasses guy wheeled the kid in, introduced him as Nux, a late-stage case. Late-stage what?. He found out soon enough. Within a week he knew everything about Nux that the kid knew himself. It was mainly how much an asshole his partner Slit was and how much he was looking forward to arriving in Valhalla. Whatever the fuck that meant. Not a lot of variety, but then the kid was unencumbered with memories beyond his own experience. Wouldn’t that be nice? Max-not-Max thought bitterly, then felt a little guilty as he caught the eye of the woman by the door. It wasn’t that bad. They were good company, most of the time.

So their aim was to prolong the Nexus-6 lifespan? Okay, fine. Seemed reasonable. Probably in his interest to play along. Four years was no time at all. Especially if you spent the last few months as sick as this kid appeared to be. Though Nux maybe wouldn’t be ‘running on empty’ as he put it, if he could rein in his yapping and relax for ten minutes.

He was kind of rooting for the kid, so it was a kick in the gut when glasses guy showed up alone and said that they hadn’t seen any lasting benefits in the late-stage case. They were going to see what effect his blood extract had on a younger replicant and, all being well, he would bring along a new recipient within a few weeks.

So they went back to the old routine of daily sampling, minus the sedative. He didn’t need it anymore and glasses guy seemed satisfied his prize subject wouldn’t take another panic attack now he was settled in.

He’d hate to admit it, but he kind of missed the kid’s chatter. It was times like these he was glad to have someone else’s memories manifesting in physical form, even if no one else could see them. Jessie and Sprog showed up quite often in the solitary room, either because he was off the sedative or because they knew he’d be bored all alone.

And then, no one came to take a sample. No glasses guy, no assistant. Mid-afternoon, a red-eyed orderly came in with a bowl of nutritious glop and an apology for being late. The woman fumbled the spoon, it clanged off the floor. “I’ll get another” came out as a sob and she positively bolted for the door before Max could say anything. He shared a glance with Jessie, before stretching for the dropped spoon. Eat first, then figure out what’s going on.

Then, on stiff and cramping legs, he made his way to the door and peeked out cautiously. All was not well in the facility. White-coated figures hurried along nervously, hugging stacks of buff-coloured folders like they expected someone to step out and accost them.

Frantic sounds of typing from an office across the corridor, muffled swearing. Someone trying to do something too quickly, by the sounds of it. It wasn’t only the orderly who was visibly upset. The atmosphere was thick with fear and tension.

“Time to go, Max” a voice by his ear whispered. He’d been thinking pretty much along those lines too. Something had happened, something bad. He didn’t want to stick around to see what.

Need clothes, something for his feet. No drip to disconnect, thankfully. The cannula in his other arm could stay put for the meantime. His bedside locker was easy enough to pick. He stuffed his jacket and the rest of the contents into his duffel bag, but could only find one boot. Too risky to wear his own stuff, they probably wouldn’t just let him walk out of there.

“Max!” she called out from outside the door. Goddamit woman, he thought, as he recovered from a minor heart attack. Reminding himself that no one else could hear her, he moved to the door. It was easier to come when called, it saved time. He’d spent long enough arguing that it wasn’t his name, but it’d been like talking to the wall. Jessie was always stubborn. Apparently.

She was there, shooing him towards a door marked ‘Stores’. Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Making straight for the nearest pile of scrubs, he stripped off his uniform-slash-pyjamas and pulled on the green pants and shirt. It was only then that he realised he’d been raiding the laundry basket. Fuck it, the stains’ll make him more convincing. A pair of white rubber mules for his feet, and he’s good to go. Wait…he dashed for the nearest store cupboard…unlocked too, tut…and filled his duffel with all the meds he could recognise, along with a handful of sterile needles and bloodlines. Good for trade.

Right. GO. Reaching the door handle, he heard raised voices from the corridor. “…Rockatansky. We’ve got a warrant.”

“He’s not in his room. Just let me check…” the door opened and Max was face to face with the red-eyed orderly. She didn’t even flinch. “…no, not in here” she called to the visitors, and shut the door again. “He may be in surgery, follow me please…” the voices quickly faded. Max stuck his head round the door. Left, they’d gone left. Right, was an emergency exit. Sprog squealed with delight and bolted for the door on unsteady legs.

The alarm was tripped, but he didn’t care.

He lost the ridiculous shoes at the perimeter fence. It didn’t slow him down.

Next chapter

[kirkypet]

MMFR Bladerunner crossover

Previous

Part 14

“They’ll shelter us. For a while anyway. I made a deal.”

Furiosa frowned as she glanced in the rear view mirror. So much for hope. It had been going too well to last. She turned to Max in the passenger seat.

“You might have to drive.”

She accelerated, weaving through the suburban traffic as best she could, her heart sinking within her. She’d fitted out this rig for stealth, not speed, and certainly not manoeuvrability. A circuitous route towards the riverside, a clear rear-view, breathe again.

“Hey. What’s your name? What do I call you, if not Max? Do you have a name?” He shook his head.

“Fine. When I yell “Witness”…you drive away as fast as you can.”

Furiosa pulled into a disused railway yard and got out, hands raised high. She breathed out a little. Okay, now for it.

“It’s all here. Three hundred stamped and witnessed certificates, just like you asked! I’ll stow the truck and you take us in!”

They were difficult to spot, but that was whole point. That’s why she’d come to the Free Runners for help. One voice shouted angrily from the top of a signal tower, the geometric patterns making his face strangely difficult to distinguish by eye. A scanner would have a tougher job. The roofs were their domain, screened from aerial view and undetected by human or machine. Furiosa had hoped they too would be safe there, but that chance was waning by the second.

“You said ‘A few Boys in pursuit. Maybe.’ We’ve seen a whole convoy!”

Still chasing, why can’t she shake them off?

Their pursuers has abandoned stealth by now, their shouts and revs plain to hear. The misty headlamps getting brighter, spray like a halo.

“Yeah, well, I got unlucky.” She muttered under her breath as she backed away. This was not going well. They were coming, they were almost here.

“Blow the viaduct!” the lookout bellowed.

“Witness!” she yelled, and the engine roared into life. Furiosa dodged between the rolling wheels and found a row of arms waiting at the back to pull her onboard. The doors slammed shut just as the debris from the explosion rained off the roof of the truck like hail.

Part 15

Concrete dust is rapidly washed from the air into grey puddles. The few remaining lights strobe in overlapping circles on the ground. Moore’s Boys mill about noisily, while his mountain of a son attempts to flame the soaking air in his excitement. The fumes from the spluttering weapon are choking those nearby.

“Immortan! Immortan Joe! I got a War Boy! Says he was on the garbage truck. You! Climb aboard!”

One of Moore’s personal bodyguard strides up holding a young man by the elbow, while another follows, waving something in the air.

“Hey. Hey! I got his boot! I got the Blood Bag’s boot! Take me! I got his boot!”

“Rictus! The rain! No more flames!”

“Immortan. If I get on the truck, there’s a way inside.”

“What is your name?”

“It’s Nux. I’ll pike her in the spine. Keep her breathing” he offered eagerly.

“No. Put a bullet in her skull. Stop the truck, return my treasures to me…and I, myself, will carry you Offworld…to the Gates…of Valhalla.”

“Am I awaited?” the Boy’s eyes were wide with rapture.

“You will be a Real Boy…Witnessed by the Immortan.”

And then it happens.

…”Ugh. Mediocre.” In his disgust, Joe Moore jabs at the ‘call’ button.

Part 16

“Splendid! Splendid!”

The hoarse voice shouts from somewhere around the floor, making them yelp in terror. Was he in here, somehow, with them?

“It’s the infopanel!”

“Is that how he knows where we are?”

“Is he tracking us?”

“That’s my child! My property!”

Angharad screamed in her rage, grabbed it out of Toast’s hands and wrenched open the back door.

Just at that moment, Furiosa called ‘look out!’ and Max swerved to avoid shredding a front tyre on some War Boy-flung caltrops in the road.

Next chapter

[kirkypet]

MMFR Bladerunner crossover

Previous

Part 48

Furiosa went off with Val and Max, carrying the locked box like she would a live grenade.

Cheedo would have loved to have been a fly on the wall, but that was impossible. On the upside, here was Althea playing hostess to their visitor. A good story to be had after all.

“Did you say this Ace guy has left his apartment to Furi?” Althea asked, in a strained voice.

“Yes, she’s his legal next of kin.”

“That was nice of him.” Althea replied, sarcastically. “Least he could do, I suppose. The whole situation is inconceivable. And that was not a fucking pun” she added, under her breath.

“I’d be the first to admit his methods were unorthodox.”

“Cloning a dead girl and convincing the clone she’s her daughter? That’s not unorthodox, it’s messed up. I wonder how the girl hasn’t cracked. And Tyrell OWN her. What good’s a nice apartment to her if she has to stay in hiding for the rest of her…” Althea spluttered to an indignant halt. Cheedo could guess what she was thinking. If Furi could just run down some day, like this Roy Batty guy…

“No no no, they don’t own her. There’s no evidence that she’s any less born than you or me. Trust me, I’ve searched high and low. I should’ve known Ayber would see to it. Furiosa was like a daughter to him. And she’s not a clone, although he did use Tyrell’s technology. I don’t know exactly his reasons were for doing what he did, but he was doing his best for her. She even has a Witness Certificate, six witnesses, properly timestamped and everything.”

“Yes, well. It’s easy when you’ve got access to a whole biobank.” Althea grumbled, reluctantly.

“Furi had a whole pile of Witness Certificates for the Free Runners.” Cheedo piped up, earning a warning glare from Althea.

“Sorry, dear, you’ll have to speak up. Hearing’s not what it was, you understand.” Addressing Althea, she went on “You don’t need to worry. Ayber was no friend of Moore’s, I assure you. Like I said, I don’t condone his methods. He broke a whole shelf of ethics laws, but his heart was in the right place. He didn’t exactly create a monster, did he? He put his best into Furiosa. And the arm was my fault, not his. Lawyers can hold their drink, but geneticists can’t. This much I’ve learned. They certainly shouldn’t drink while working. My fault. Bad influence. But I digress.”

“Look at it this way, it normally takes about a year to create a replicant – basic genetic engineering from the standard template, then about eleven months gestation and maturation to adulthood. Ace spent three and a half years on Furiosa’s physical and psychological development. That’s how important she was to him. I know, I know, okay? But he really did his best.”

“I may have been partly to blame, in hindsight. When funding was cut for the LIFETIME Project, Ayber simply fell apart. It meant everything to him, to extend Nexus 6 lifespans, or at least improve their quality of life near the end. And the fact that the decision came from Moore...ugh. Ayber knew how his War Boys talked about him, the lies he’d fed them. The frustration must’ve been overwhelming.

“So when he took an overdose...he was found in time, of course, and made a good recovery...I told him ‘you’ve got to either take things as they are, or play the system at their own game’, and that it was his choice. No one will ever employ me as a therapist, but it seemed to turn him around. I thought his keeping the project running in secret, in spite of Moore, was his way of kicking back. Imagine my surprise when he showed me the incubation lab a year later. Hell of a shock, I can tell you. In short, Furiosa was created as an vent for his own frustration, a proxy. The name is a clue, right there.

“But when he fully realised what he’d done, he wanted to make sure she didn’t suffer as a result of the accelerated maturation process. It’s not known for sure if it’s that or the cloning process that is so damaging. Furiosa is unique, you see. So when they had a breakthrough on the project, he tried to get her involved without her knowing why.”

Cheedo listened, fascinated. “Wait. Do you mean she’s NOT a replicant? She’s just a genetically modified test tube baby who grew up super fast? And was Ace…Dr Eridson…her biological father then?”

“Pretty much. And I assume so.” She looked around the room. “If he chose to implant some of his own memories, it’s likely…and I suppose it would be simpler than getting a donor. Furiosa’s case completely rewrites the current dogma, bridges the replicant-human gap. Or at least it would if it were known. And there’s no reason that it should, unless Furiosa herself wants it to be.”

“Ssh, here she comes.” Althea got up in readiness to give an awkward hug if needed. Furiosa’s eyes looked a little red, but she was otherwise as she ever was. She laid out several items on the table.

“How are you?” Althea asked.

Furiosa shrugged. “Don’t know if I want to punch him or hug him, and I can’t do either. I wish he’d told me, but I’m glad he didn’t. Should I be grateful or angry? I don’t know.”

“Sounds like your typical parent-child relationship right there.” Althea muttered.

Next chapter

[kirkypet]

MMFR Bladerunner crossover

Previous

Part 39

“Uh, well, it’s definitely closed. Crumbling, even.”

They sat on the spinner’s hood and surveyed their sanctuary. It was a nice old building though, even kinda gracious looking. There was a tree gamely growing out of one of the outhouses. Dag felt a sympathy with the place.

“Closed down in ’83, says here. Historical Society records. I wondered why there wasn’t much information online.”

“Oh shit” Capable groaned. “Poor Furiosa.”

“What?” Toast asked in a voice that already knew the answer.

“Ssh. Not here.”

*

Capable and Toast made a cursory exploration of the building, flanked by a gun-toting Althea and Bev. The place was empty, barring a family of opossums who had had the place to themselves so long they’d forgotten how to play dead.

It didn’t smell too good, between the damp and wildlife, but some of the rooms were still pretty well furnished and could be made comfortable for Furiosa in a few minutes.

“…she hinted as much to Angharad one night. She’d had this uneasy feeling that things weren’t as they seemed. Dreams, memories, LACK of memories. Some things just didn’t add up. They’d had a few drinks by then, of course. Well, Furiosa had. You know Angharad didn’t drink much, even before she found out she was…y’know.”

“You think this proves it, then?” Toast waves a hand at their surroundings.

“Only she can know for sure. I won’t be asking, anyway.”

“Doesn’t matter to me” shrugged Bev. “She’s Mary’s girl, either way.”

Althea paused to shake out some old blankets and lay them on a narrow bed. She looked round the room for a moment before following the others.

“It’s too bad she won’t live. But then again, who does?”

Next chapter

[kirkypet]

Anyone interested in a Fury Road-Bladerunner crossover?

Previous

Random fragment #4

The last words he heard, through the white pain in his knee and the burning lungs and the grey blobs that crowded his vision...

“…you’re not... under arrest…goddammit” the breathless voice was exasperated, snapping cuffs on his wrists.

Random fragment #5

He jolted awake, which was a bad move. It hurt. A lot. Knee. Restraints. What had they put on his face? Some kind of muzzle? Just breathe. Stay calm. Not easy.

A face swam into focus. Kind of. He shrank his head back as far as he could and glared warily. She flashed an LAPD badge.

“Max Rockatansky?”

He shook his head immediately.

“YOU’RE NOT UNDER ARREST.” Her face contradicted her. “Just need to ask you a few questions.”

She held up an ID screen. His face. His name? He had no name. She looked at it, at him, raised an eyebrow. “This you?” He shook his head stubbornly.

“Fine.” She reached into her jacket, muttering “…muzzled you for a reason.”

She was quick. She had to be. Before he’d realised what she was intended, before he could squeeze his eyes tight shut, she’d scanned him.

She glanced at the screen, and turned it toward him. Match. “Why’d you have to do it the hard way? Huh?”

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[kirkypet]

MMFR Bladerunner crossover

Previous

Part 12

“He doesn’t look old enough. He should be about fifty” Toast pointed out, after some silent calculations on Furiosa’s infopad.

“Might have good genes” Capable demurred.

“He probably IS a skinjob” Dag mumbled, biting her nails.

“Don’t say skinjob. We’re all people.” Angharad reminded her.

“Besides, how do we know we’re not?” Capable added. “Were WE really born?”

“That’s just an urban legend” Toast scoffed. “Have you ever actually MET a replicant who thought they’d been born?”

“My neighbour’s sister knew a guy....” Capable began, but got cut off by Toast with a triumphant “No, didn’t think so.”

“Wouldn’t it be horrible though…? If all your memories were fake?” she mused, undaunted.

“But, look, didn’t we all get tested? I did, anyway.” Cheedo looked confused.

“Yeah, but the test is mediocre. Sixty percent accuracy. Barely better than a guess.” Toast sighed. “That’s Furiosa’s point.”

Part 13

Max woke with a jolt. It wasn’t the nightmares, more the chorus of shrieks and yells from the body of the truck. Before he’d got a grip on his wrench, Furiosa was choking, grappling with a chain round her neck while trying to keep control of vehicle. Max lunged for the figure whose head and arms just as suddenly disappeared backwards through the hatch. There was a muffled cry of “Filth! You traitored him!”

“Take the wheel!” she wheezed, released, before scrambling through the hole after her attacker. He did. It looked like things were under control, from the shouts of female rage.

“No! Furiosa, you promised!” That was the pregnant one’s voice. The idealistic one. “No unnecessary killing, remember?”

“He tried to kill ME!”

“He’s one of Joe’s Boys!”

“He’s just a kid at the end of his lifespan!”

“No! I’m awaited in Valhalla!”

“You’ll still be a slave in Valhalla!”

“Chuck him out!”

“It’s over! You can’t defy him!”

The rear door opened….

“Just watch us!”

“By his hand we’ll be lifted up!”

“Offworld’s no different to here!”

…and slammed shut.

Next chapter

[kirkypet]

MMFR Bladerunner crossover

Previous

Part 20

Furiosa knocked on the metal wall behind her head. “What’s going on back there?” Toast stuck her head through the hatch. “Capable’s adopted a War Boy. She says he’s tame.”

“You’ve got your weapons, use them if you have to.”

“S’alright?” the Witness asked, muzzily. He’d had almost an hour’s sound sleep after all those nightmares. She wouldn’t sleep yet though. Not til they were safe out of the city limits. And she knew a short cut.

“Our passenger is still with us.” She nodded backwards. The Witness tensed, listening to the voices in the back. Warily, he leaned round and looked through the hatch.

“Blood Bag!” The War Boy cried, like he was meeting a long-lost friend. “How’d you get out?”

The Witness shrank back into his seat. He did not look happy to see him. Blood Bag? Had he been one of R&D’s research subjects? But no time to chat, this short cut was rapidly turning into a fucking quagmire. No going back, though. Keep moving or they’d sink. No, no, no…the wheels span and they were not moving.

“Right, everybody out! We’re gonna have to push this thing!”

The girls jumped out the back, deliberately aiming for the puddles like kids who’d never been outdoors. Which was largely true.

“Whoa, it’s got my boot.”

“What is this place?”

“It’s creepy.”

Furiosa couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t like haunted house or serial killer creepy. More like the low-level horror of thwarted hopes and crushed dreams. It made you feel deeply uncertain of anything you ever put your faith in.

It was going to be a new town. Now it was row on row of half-built houses, hollow shells. It felt lifeless. Someday people would be desperate enough to find a home here, but it hadn’t happened yet. The best you could say about it was that weeds were taking up residence in the cracks.

She’d expected to see this. It was just another hangover of the last decade. She hadn’t expected it to be so fucking muddy.

“There’s high ground…just beyond that thing.”

“He means the tree.”

“Yeah. Tree!”

“Say, anyone notice that bright light? Encroaching gunfire?”

“Okay, don’t panic. But we gotta get this thing moving.”

“I’m gonna use the winch, put it round that tree thing.”

“Where’s the Witness gone?” Toast asked, with a hint of disgust in her voice. “Fucked off when things get tough, just like a man.”

Furiosa felt a pang of disappointment and, when she checked the cab for the spare shotgun, she didn’t know what to think. Had he run again? Was it losing Angharad? He seemed…not well equipped to deal with that sort of thing. Or, had he gone to…?

As the girls pushed and Furiosa wrestled the gears, the Boy managed to get the winch hook round the sole tree left standing in this forsaken place. In her desperation, she found her mind wandering… wondering if some construction workers were superstitious and didn’t want to provoke the faeries. And then a flash of anger. The Boy didn’t know what a tree was. Fuck Moore. She would have to end him. She wouldn’t be able to rest otherwise.

There were some flashes in the fog, followed by the reports of a gun. Furiosa’s heart was already in her mouth by the time she saw a figure trudging toward them. She was slowly reaching for her handgun when she heard a voice she recognised. For all she’d heard of it, which was very little. Not chatty, this one.

“S’alright” he waved a hand and dropped a bag. It sounded heavy. “Spares” he added, before darting over to where the Boy was struggling.

Some words were exchanged, she saw the Boy nod at him, and jog through the mud to take a hand with the pushing.

And then they were free.

Part 21

“That’s bait”

The truck sat idling by the remains of a chain link fence. Wails of ‘help me…please…” The girls exchanged glances.

“Stay in the truck.” Furiosa reached into her jacket and climbed out. She advanced slowly on the twisted metal structure and its half-naked prisoner, hands held high, empty but for a small white square.

“I am one of the Vuvalini!” she cried out. “My mother was Mary Jabassa! Here, I have…I have her picture!”

The caged woman scrambled down and ran towards her, paused, stared. Bikes began to swarm like roaring bees.

“Here.” Furiosa thrust the Polaroid toward her. “My mother. Mary Jabassa. I’m...Furiosa” she added, barely above a hoarse whisper.

The woman glanced at the picture and handed it to the closest biker.

“Mary Jabassa…I knew her…yes…” the older woman conferred with her passenger, looked at Furiosa. “But, a daughter…?” Others came close, peered at the crumpled Polaroid. “Looks a bit like her. Something in the eyes. But still…”

The caged woman turned to the group, spoke in a voice that would brook no argument. “This is our Furiosa.”

Next chapter

[kirkypet]

MMFR Bladerunner crossover

Previous

Part 17

Where are you? Help us. Where are you, Max? Stop running. You let us die! You could’ve helped us! You could’ve helped so many people, Max...

“Witness…”

He jolted awake, white walls, surgical masks, needles, red lines, a man in goggles…all fading out, replaced by a dark cab, a concerned face looking sidelong at him. Sounds of sobbing from the back.

“It’s okay. Sleep.”

It’s not okay though. They’d almost lost the dark haired one too, Cheeto? The kid. She looked like a kid, anyway. Seems she’d made to fling herself out of the truck when they slowed to take a corner, they’d just grabbed her in time. Talked her out of going back. Back where? To the man who was chasing them. Heavy-looking old guy with white hair. Max didn’t know his face.

And then he did. That was him, but he’d got old. What right did HE have to grow old? How old would THEY be now? That woman and child he knew and loved as if they were his. Max knew then that this wasn’t going to end in a courtroom. It had gone beyond that. Max knew he wouldn’t be done til he saw that man dead. By the look on her face, this Furiosa was of the same mind. He didn’t know her story, but she’d just seen her friend die. And he was gunning for them too, can’t forget that.

With Angharad had gone the infopanel. It seemed like they might have lost them, but they could hardly rule out other tracking devices.

“Least they don’t have Spinners” Max found himself speaking out loud.

Furiosa smiled bitterly. “Oh they’ll have Spinners. But they won’t be getting off the ground any time soon.”

Part 18

“So…where now?”

“There’s a place I remember. Out of the city, eastwards. I think it was Home, once.” Catching his eye, she added, shortly. “I was brought here as a child.”

She drove on. It would be a long night, but she knew the way.

Stupid, stupid. Her infopad has been compromising them all. And she’d messaged Giddy. He would have her by now. No, don’t think about that. Tears were threatening, this was not the time. Don’t think at all. Just keep moving.

Part 19

“Take the wheel. Someone should stay down the back. Need to search the truck. Keep watch. They could still be tracking us.”

“I’ll go” Capable offered, rising.

“No. I want you to stay together.”

“I can do it.” Capable didn’t use that voice often, but she got her way when she did. With most people anyway, not all.

She checked the dark corners of the empty container, glad that it had been hosed clean. She’d never been in a garbage container before yesterday but she reckoned they were normally pretty unpleasant to poke around in. There was only the crusher mechanism left. Peering in cautiously, she froze. Him, one of Joe’s Boys. They’d thrown him out, but here he was, curled up, sobbing. He didn’t look about to attack.

“What are you doing here?”

“He saw it. He saw it all. My own Blood Bag driving the truck that killed her.” The Boy banged his head against the metal floor.

“Stop doing that.” She tried to calm him, shush him like a child, but he carried on. “Stop.”

“Three times I had a chance for Valhalla. I was awaited, they were calling my name. I should be full-life on the Offworld. A Real Boy.”

“You look like a Real Boy to me.”

“Not for long. Only half a year left. Then it’s all over. I’ve had all my chances. Gonna be recycled...nothing but garbage.”

Next chapter