L: Mess Hall Purgatory - Tumblr Posts

Waking after what was assumed death was terribly similar to waking after creation; but unlike the lab his first fluttering eyelids opened to, the scientist inhabiting the lab he suddenly found himself in were not soothing in touch nor words. Where Theon’s voice had been soft in the lyrics of his reassurance, the scientists currently looming over him spoke with a cool calculation, eager for discovery and ignorant of the consequences experienced by that which they were discovering.

Sharp edges cut synthetic skin, flinching away from the surprising presence of something eerily similar to blood; but neither shock nor consideration was enough for the scientists to cease their search of a control panel necessary for every android’s ability to function. Instead, the scientists continued their intimate exploration of the intricate wiring system present beneath his skin. Whispered praise accompanied every new instance of pain, yet DATA remained still in the binds that held him to the table. He did not wish for them to know that such sensations were possible by something they held no concern for.

It was not until the persistent hum of electricity joined the careful procedures that DATA allowed himself to reveal the emotions he had learned. Fear was something he rarely experienced, pain less so. However, the sudden shock of electricity overwhelming his systems broke the impassive mask placed over his features until a gasping grimace was all that was left. The writhing of his limbs only resulted in tighter bindings as they continued their task of finding a way to manually reset his code to match those of the countless other mindless droids they employed.

In the end, it was easier to pretend that they had been successful.

---

Jolted laughs of cruel humor, sharp slurs of half-bitten insults, and barbarous echoes of barked conversation reverberated through the hollow halls of the prison, creating a chaotic cacophony that invaded every sense with an unwanted, overwhelming welcome. Each cell brought a loathing leer or piercing glare from those that were confined by the cool, steel bars. The other androids, mindless in their existence, paid no mind to the din that surrounded them, staring ahead with empty eyes and unbroken gazes. DATA, in contrast, would still jump at the occasional unanticipated noise; however, such a motion had to be hidden from the watchful gaze of the prison guards.

The routine imposed upon the robots rarely allowed room for irregularity. DATA had grown used to the absent-minded state that was expected from him, following orders to gather at the prison dining hall without a curious query as to why. His gaze, inhumanly blank without the occupation of higher thought, did not divert to the raucous noise surrounding him lest the threat of reprogramming resurface upon the sight of his obvious discomfort. Androids were not meant to feel uneasiness- they were not meant to feel anything.

A slight stumble faltered his movement as his leg caught on the outstretched limb of an inmate, a man smiling with an innately animalistic brutality that accompanied the cruelty of finding amusement in others’ suffering. Although DATA had learned many emotions over the years since his creation, he had yet to master the skill of masking such emotions from playing out across his features. Fright, for what they would do to him for something as simple as a stumble, widened his eyes and tugged his lips in a downward motion. An apology, unwarranted and unwanted, was stopped at its beginnings by the influence of the corrupted code of the prison. Staring at the man for merely a moment more, DATA quickly turned to take his place among the other droids at the table.

An unanticipated touch to his shoulder resulted in a violent flinch, his body moving away from the perceived threat before his gaze could register the recognition that accompanied the sight of a friend. The pressure of a friendly touch, absent in the loneliness of his prison sentence, brought a shocked smile to his face. “Cairo?” he asked, unable to accept the reality that perhaps some of the crew had survived beyond himself. Shaky arms slowly found their way to the soft curves of her spine as he buried his nose in the familiar scent, washed out by the mandated products of the prison but still persistently present. For the first time since his arrival, DATA allowed himself to feel the first tendril of comfort.

date & time : november 16th, 4:58pm location : purgatory; the mess hall  status : with @curiouscalculations​

The last thing she remembered in the golden room was almost making it. 

A dark-eyed man with the grin of a wolf stepped into her dreamland, but this time she recognized him. She locked eyes with Kit Beisel and all of the air left her lungs. She ran to meet him, but the cores of his pupils glowed red-hot. They became a flash of fire and light and Cairo was thrown painfully against a wall. 

She woke up in handcuffs.

— 

Their prison was an organized monster. Columns of rooms lined every wall, weaponed guards chaperoned the halls, but more imposing than the imagery was the noise. Chatter was an infernal dinn here, but at least the shouting meant there was life beyond her four walls. Most days were incomplete without the sounds of swearing and sobbing. It brought her home. Suddenly she was back in the chewed-out terrain of Brora F31. She was back in the death machine that was war. Because what was home, after all, if not the place you would know deaf and blind?

The familiarity was useful to her. She knew what horrors to expect here, and made no effort to postpone the inevitable. She knew that sniffling was futile, and it would only further her wardens’ irritation. So for the first few days, she was all ice. Her demeanor was completely still, completely numb. Brow together, brooding. She sat with her silence in the corner of her cell, with her arms wrapped tight against her chest, because maybe if she thought hard enough, maybe if she bit her tongue, losing Kit wouldn’t feel like a ripe gunshot inside and out. She tasted blood and tried to remember his voice. Tried to remember his rich cadence and any information that might bring him back to her. He couldn’t be dead for two reasons. One, because Kit Beisel would never do that to her. And two, because she didn’t know how she would live with herself if he did. 

For the first few days, she walked stoic and slow. Her attention wavered constantly, but her soldier brain did manage to pick up a few details. It noted that the prison was short on kitchen staff — not desperate, but short. The prison was understaffed generally, or at least her section of the prison was. The only guard that patrolled her hall rarely checked on her, but when he did, he sucked his lip and stared. And that was the catch. Cairo let him. 

In her state, she struggled to kick herself back to life. It helped that a day in, the officials put her in the kitchen. Being in front of a stove allowed her the privilege to show the prison how useful she could be for them. She cooked flavorless filth into something edible. For the first time in years, she was told, the prisoners didn’t gag when they ate. Being in front of a stove also reminded her of several things: that she was imprisoned, but not a prisoner; that she knew how to escape places like this; and that she was furious.

She stood behind the serving table, spooning thick syrup over a prisoner’s plate when another cook nudged her in the ribs. “Look,” Carmelo said and pointed at a troop of androids entering the room. His Mandarin was brightened by a thick Mantoda accent when he spoke. “Those are the robots I was telling you about. The ones the prison reprograms to work for them. They come from every star you can name, Cairo. I dare you to find two that look the same.”

Cairo brought her gaze up to Carmelo’s twinkling compound eyes, then to the droids — to the twelve speckled bodies made of metals and plastics, marching neatly to one of the tables and sitting there. Cairo saw one stumble slightly, glimpsed his face and everything stopped. Everything. “I have to go,” she breathed. “Take this.”

Carmelo started to protest, but Cairo had already handed him the ladle and was making her way to the androids. For the first time since she arrived, hope was in her step. Finally she reached out and touched the arm of the only frightened one at the table. She only knew one android who knew the meaning of fear. When his eyes met hers, Cairo exclaimed and pulled DATA into a crushing embrace.