Hold It In (RWBY/Transistor)

So, I'm the kind of dork that rereads my own writing, and I've noticed a few dead links here and there because I tend to use music that has a somewhat volatile shelf life on YouTube. I've fixed the couple I've found so far, but if anybody notices anymore, please don't hesitate to tell me so I can fix them or find equivalent music.

---

For a moment, the cursing and gunshots go unchallenged as you sit there, stunned by the number of options thrown at you. After a second, the Process seems to sense your indecisiveness. Almost immediately, the options boiling down and aggregated for you.

You pick out the three that seem to make sense to you; removing the two of you from the battlefield, strength in numbers, and more exacting weaponry. If nothing else, you'll get some respite from being shot at.

Orders received. Execution beginning immediately.

With a great rumble, the ground beneath you gives way, and the two of you yelp as you drop, encased in white. A gentle glow suffuses your shallow bunker, lighting up Weiss's panicked face.

She isn't quite at the point of hyperventilating, but you figure it's for the best that you say something.

"You ok?"

A licensed therapist, you are not

Regardless of your lack of professional experience, however, it does get her to focus on you, and not on whatever's rushing through her head right now.

"... I'm… I'm, ok." Weiss stammers out after a moment, her breathing settling down. "Just… please tell me what the hell this is."

It's around this point that you realise you can feel her chest rising and falling against your arm, and that you are stuck in a vertical coffin, with her pressed into your side in a weird half-hug.

While you process the surreality of having Weiss Schnee pressed into you inside a broom closet, and explain exactly what happened, much less pleasant things are happening outside.

|||

Priority Evaluation:

1. Protect Sysadmin.
2. Protect priority target, designation "Weiss Schnee."
3. Disable threats to sysadmin and PT.
4. Remove all physical evidence of Process involvement.

Measures taken to advance primary and secondary priorities. Bunker sealed, molecular filtration in place. Orders given to advance tertiary priority.

ERROR: No LLD templates found beyond base energy manipulation capabilities. Research required.

Templates found after 0.47 seconds of server skimming (mastercomfork_Bracket queried for logged areas of interest):

• Area Denial System- EM radiation irritates nerves under skin, causing sensation of combustion in subject. Acceptable amount of skin on display in chest and arm area. Verdict: Accepted.

• M5 CCM- planted explosive filled with non-lethal rounds, effective range, 30 metres, 60-80 degree arc without modification- calculated minimum non-lethal range of 5 metres. WARNING: non-combatants within all viable arcs of deployment. WARNING: fatality risk above acceptable threshold at this range. Query Offensive Augmentation for modified threshold… failure on modified threshold. Verdict: Unacceptable for current situation. Rejected.

• PEP- pulsed energy projectile ablates material on impact, causing pressure wave and irritation of nerves via electromagnetic radiation. Similarity to Ping() function noted for future. Verdict: Accepted.

• PHASR directed laser dazzler- causes temporary blindness in target. Limited effectiveness- masks obscure vision too much for precision targeting. Verdict: secondary weapon, prepare for use upon found opportunity.

• 'Riot Rounds'- hard rubber rounds used by riot police for non-lethal subjugation of rioters. Matter requirements less intensive compared to CCM. Verdict: Offensive Augmentation directive in effect- acceptable fatality risk under new threshold, expand sysadmin bunker to acquire material for rounds. Accepted.

LLD templates for situation selected. ETC- 1 minute. Immediate measures needed during manufacturing process.

Badcell synthesis underway.

|||

Your name is Lavan Lavi, and for the first time since you had that SDC tracking collar slashed off you, your faith in the White Fang is beginning to waver.

The… thing, in front of you, is…

You have very little pleasant to say of the SDC mines, but they kept well-stocked libraries. There was one book you were rather fond of, in your time there. A collection of short horror stories, of shapeless, indescribable horrors that refused to conform to humanity's perception of the world, working on truly alien logic and laws. Dark escapism, to be sure, but escapism nonetheless.

It is a passage from this book that you are reminded of, seeing the creature that you watched sprout from a steel table and the ground around it.

"It was a terrible, indescribable thing vaster than any subway train—a shapeless congeries of protoplasmic bubbles, faintly self-luminous, and with myriads of temporary eyes forming and un-forming as pustules of greenish light all over the tunnel-filling front that bore down upon us, slithering over the glistening floor that it and its kind had swept so evilly free of all litter."

The light is now red, and the eyes are of glass, but once the connection is in your head, it refuses to leave, dragging your heart down with it into your boots.

Today you face the technological shoggoth.

… You will admit to not being a good man. Good men don't firebomb shops or try to assassinate 17-year old girls, no matter who their family is or what they've done to you or your people.

Forgiveness isn't the kind of thing you ever expect to receive.

And yet, when the red orbs shift from the top, four coming loose as units of their own, before growing larger, darker, angrier, while barrels begin to grow from the rest, far more than one each for you and your companions, you can't help but fight the urge to drop to your knees and beg for it.

|||

Badcell synthesis complete.

PEP and ADS weaponry online. Riot munition synthesis underway. Beginning first phase of subjugation.

|||

When the bunker suddenly grows a metre in every horizontal direction, you don't quite know how to process the twin sensations of relief at having your personal space back and that deep yearning to be back in the broom closet again.

{Heh.}

Hush you.

{I didn't say anything.}

Hrmph.

"So… that little robot of yours is… part of all this?" Weiss asks, gesturing to her general surroundings.

"Yeah. Well, kinda. The Process is an AI that resides in a higher physical dimension, that works on the physical plane by breaking down matter into controllable atoms for it to use as it sees fit- the Cells, that's what they're called, are the smallest self-supporting unit capable of independent action the Process can create."

She doesn't say anything for a moment. Instead, she stands there, staring at you for a moment, her mouth slightly agape as she tries to process what she's just been told.

"I… God. And those men out there… almost hurt the man who created it." Weiss says somewhat hesitantly, almost like she's afraid to point it out.

"They won't die." You try to placate her. "The Process doesn't do lethal force against humans."

She looks down at the polished white surface underneath her feet, giving a gentle huff of air as she leans against the wall, ready to wait out the attack.

"... That's not as comforting as you think it is."

|||

The angry grey robots buzz by you again, the bright red laser pulse bright enough that it's visible in thin air, setting another fire on your black trouser legs. patting it out, you bring your gun up just in time to watch it flit out of sight, deep beeping laughter following it in mockery.

The four of you are now huddled behind the car you came here in, hiding from a stationary encampment bristling with alien armaments.

Your mask lays cracked in front of you, a large welt forming on your forehead from the rubber bullet shot at you. Your Aura is weak, certainly nowhere near a Huntsman's, but it protected you from that, before it broke.

Now, you're sat behind the car, waiting for that sensation of broken glass in the back of your mind to fade, so you can…

So you can what, exactly? What's your plan here?

One of your men steps out to try and shoot down one, you've seen it happen before, you swear, its corpse was right there, and takes several thoomping rubber bullets to the chest and face for his trouble. His mask cracks as yours did, the pale purple light of his Aura shattering as a green laser hits him in the face, leaving him screaming and clutching his face as he blindly dives for cover once more.

As he screams about being blind, it suddenly occurs to you that the four of you are pinned down.

|||

Assailants suppressed. Priority three, phase two underway- pacification.

<<Querying mastercomfork_Blue for suggestions.>>

<<{Gotcha. Right, give me a second, need to find out who they are… ok, create a device to these specifications-}>>

<<lrad.stl received, constructing to specifications.>>

<<{Good. Ok, here's the script. You know the voice you use for the Cell, the really peepy, digital one? Modify it like this.}>>
Video: Portal- GLaDOS Final Battle Speech, timestamp 1:50
<<Orders received. Proceed?>>

<<{... ooh, one thing- make a modified round for your rifle attachment, like this.}>>

<<Warning: flechette rounds are considered lethal weaponry->>

<<{Easy, easy, you're not aiming at them. Way this thing should break up, it'll ruin the engine on their car if you aim it right.}>>

<<Understood. Will use if vehicle is accessed. Plan finalised. Proceed?>>

<<{Give 'em hell, big guy.}>>

<<... Orders unclear->>

<<Proceed.>>

|||

... You know, you've never actually had a lot of Processed matter to just, play with. This is a new opportunity for you.

How...

As soon as the thought enters your head, a sort of seventh sense unfolds in your mind, and you have a sudden grasp of your surroundings that you didn't have before. Logically, you understand that your sensations are an extension of the same protocols the Process itself uses to shape its matter, but it feels...

You twist your fingers, shaping matter without touching it, and it responds, the ground shifting up in a million strands to create a simple stool. Another twist, and it has a back and a swivel. You settle into it, turning just in time to see Weiss raising an eyebrow at you from the corner she's curled up in.

"How long have you been able to do that?"

"About three seconds. I didn't think it would be this easy, though."

"... What else can you make?" She asks, sounding genuinely curious.

"... Wanna find out?"

"Way too much."

A wide grin splits your face as Weiss gives you the first genuine smile you've gotten out of her all night.

|||
"Dead or alive, you're coming with me." DC: Enemy Roll. Roll: 17.
"Levan Lavi. Alondra Rocio. Fawn Greyson. Lomri Kaala."

The voice that lists your names to the wider world is… neither the booming voice of death and destruction nor the robotic grindings telling you that resistance is futile that you would have expected after all that's happened.

"Under Valish law, you are charged with the attempted assassination, first degree, of Weiss Schnee, the attempted manslaughter, first degree, of Layla Morgan, Narcissa Ogden, Jaune Arc, Rav Sadar-"

It lists names in a voice you could only describe as airy, serene, almost, as if this is just busywork but it has to keep a public face up anyway, this ever-shifting mass of metal and glass acting as if it's anything other than other.

"- all in the name of the White Fang, a noted terrorist organisation. Your minimum calculated sentences are 17 counts of attempted manslaughter, one count of attempted assassination, and one count of terrorism. In total, you will face, under a lenient judge, 171 years in prison. You will be detained or incapacitated before the police arrive. Should you evade capture, your names and faces will be distributed amongst all law enforcement agencies available to us."

Your heart chills. The casual announcement of your total time, along with the knowledge that your name and face will be in every police station in Vale if you get away from this, thing...
"God help us all." Roll: 16. Failure.
... No. No, it's bluffing. It must be.

"... Place down your weapons. It is not too late to turn yourselves in and plead for leniency. You can recover from this."

Ha. Even if the Valish legal system didn't look dimly on anyone who commits the same crime more than once, you know the Schnees will do their absolute best to get the worst judge they can buy onto this case.

You knew going in that this wasn't a plan that would brook failure.

... That doesn't mean you can't aim for damage control.

After all, it is your car that you're hiding behind, right now. Well, not your car, but, semantics. Turning to the others you gesture to your escape plan, and, slowly, slowly, open the car door. As soon as the latch catches, giving out the tiniest click, the tip of a white spear appears next to your head, and the smell of engine oil and Dust hits your nose like a slap to the face.
Second Roll: 19. Enemy DC set.
"We apologise- it appears our statements were interpreted as suggestions. Allow us to reiterate with less ambiguity- you will place your weapons on the ground, and come out with your hands behind your heads. You will then be restrained until law enforcement arrives. If our orders are not met within thirty seconds, we will take an active approach to your detainment."
Enemy Roll: 1. Critical failure.
Watching path after path close before one's eyes tends to breed desperation in a man. Against all rational thought, your hand clenches and you ready your rifle and Aura-

"Lavi."

Al's voice snaps you from your rage, and you turn to your previously blind companion, the bald cat Faunus trying his best to focus on your eyes. The look in his face, and in the face of your companions, are looks of regret.

"... What are we supposed to do here? It's not gonna kill us, it's not gonna let us go... what else can we do?"

For exactly one moment, thoughts of turning your gun on yourself to at least make a statement out of all this, but that's quickly quashed by, well, your most base instincts of survival, and you realise...

He's right. You have no other options.

"F-fuck that!" Lomri yells. You snap to her just in time to watch her reach into one of the pouches on her belt and pulls out a fucking grenade sweet Dust woman- "I-if I'm going, I'm g- I'm going out o-on my terms. That thing isn't indestructible- if we all... if we... oh God, oh God I can't-" her bravado gives way to a panic attack, her shaking hands dropping the grenade.

You all instinctively flinch back before remembering it still has the pin in.

"While I don't agree with the suicidal part, Kaala does raise a good point. Bullets do damage, it just repairs it faster than we can deal it. Grenades? That should-" Fawn starts, before being rudely interrupted by that thing.

"You have ten seconds to comply."

Fuck.

"Also we can hear you."

"... Your call, Lavi." Fawn looks to you, happy to shove this particular burden off on you.

As a countdown from five begins, you look over your group of a half-blind catman, a fox-eared girl young enough to have just got into college and also completely beholden to the aftershocks of a panic attack, and the only sane person here.

... Honestly, the decision kind of makes itself.

One by one, each of you walks out, hands laced behind your heads, and present yourselves for arrest.

"You made the right decision. Remain there and allow the Badcells to restrain-"

Someone's Scroll rings. Going by the fact the ringtone is some kind of electronic beat you'd expect out of a club, you hazard a guess at it being Kaala's.

"Please answer it. Place it on speakerphone." The creature orders as the little dark grey bastards hover up to your ankles, smushing into them and becoming a pair of unmoveable manacles, and doing the same for the others.

The fox pulls her Scroll out of her vest pocket and answers it, putting it on speakerphone as asked.

"... H-hello?"

For a moment, there's nothing but some slight static. Then, the sound of a slide being pulled back.

-We are the White Fang. Give us freedom, or give us death.-

The next thing you know, like having a rug swept out from under your feet, your legs are pulled sharply behind you, forcing you to the rough tarmac. It's only quickly pulling up your Aura that saves you from a bitten tongue, and the damn thing still breaks. You hear someone screaming as you're dragged by your ankles towards the thing that's been trying to break you for the past ten minutes, watching the unbreakable bulwark split for you, dragging the four of you behind it.

As you gain your bearings, you watch Grayson drop beneath the ground, the crying girl clutching at her shoulder as she goes.

... What's left of it.

Gods, that sociopath tried to kill her and almost took her arm off for his trouble.

The rest of you are just left behind the battlements you've been fighting against for so long.

... With nothing better to do, you look towards one of the glass eyes, mentally erasing the giant floating sword staring at you- because you've had enough weird stuff to deal with today, that is Tomorrow Levan's problem- and strike up a conversation, about one of the questions that's been burning in you for about five seconds.

"... Why? Why even save us?"

"To the best of our abilities, we will protect all humans from injury where possible, regardless of former attitude towards us. Your friend's injury is regrettable in this circumstance, but she is now in the care of a trusted companion. He will treat her well enough to keep her alive until paramedics arrive."

"And... she'll be alright?" You ask, allowing the tiniest bit of hope to enter your voice.

"Everyone will be alright today. That is a promise."

|||

The first thing to distract you from making progressively comfier chairs for yourself and Weiss is a crying deer Faunus extruding from the ceiling and dropping between the two of you.

Your first reaction is to pull up your Aura when you recognise the White Fang uniform.

Your second is to wipe away your current projects and instead bring a medical table up beneath her, when you realise her arm's been blown open by a bullet along the bicep, shredding the muscle down to but thankfully not touching the bone. Weiss simply stands in the corner in horror, completely locked up at the sight of a girl's heartbeat in blood as you suppress your own shock, tilting the table downwards slightly, just enough to keep her heart below the wound, and start to work.

"I need a status report and the closest thing to medical gauze you can make, now." You call to the Process, and are rewarded with about five feet of shiny metal stuff that at least feels like medical gauze. A quick test dabbing tells you that, no, it is not in fact absorbent.

... Well ok then you guess you'll just go fuck yourself-

As the Process gives you a rundown of the past ten minutes, from its exploration of nonlethal weapons to its dipped toe into the world of psychological warfare, culminating in the sniper that kicked all this off turning on your patient here, you have it extrude two thin pipes so you can use the not-gauze, shifted to the appropriate width and consistency to apply a tourniquet with, and also give the poor girl something to bite on while you do that. You're perfectly aware of the failure rate for amateur tourniquets, but you're choosing to do what has a chance of saving the person and not what might kill her.

A simple square knot, rod, square knot, pressure's directly above the wound, you didn't make it long enough to twist with one hand you fucking moron-

"Weiss, I need your help- come here and check her wrist pulse."

The heiress snaps out of her shocked stupor, and, with some effort, walks over and grabs the girl's hand, placing two fingers against her wrist, nodding at you when she finds it.

"Ok, I'm going to twist this to stop the bloodflow- tell me when you can't feel her pulse anymore."

A flash of concern is the only hesitation Weiss gives you before she nods once more, perhaps a little more firmly than needed, but hey, if it helps her cope, it helps her cope. She has putting on a strong face, you start planning exactly how you're going to murder that son of a bitch-

Calm.

You are calm.

You are an island of serenity in an ocean of madness.

{Er, maybe don't let go of the homicidal thoughts just yet. We're listening to the emergency channels- EMTs aren't coming anywhere near a scene with an active shooter, and the police can't get to him- he's hopping between highrise windows and taking potshots at anybody who comes near. They just seem to be warning shots, but...}

But he's gonna hit somebody eventually.

"N-no pulse."

You stop twisting and tell Weiss to hold it steady for a moment. Stepping back, you allow yourself a moment to run your hands through your hair, wiping the sweat you didn't realise was on your brow away for a moment, and consider your options.

After exactly one moment of that, you alter the composition of the wall behind you, then twist with a yell as you drive your fist into the now brittle surface, throwing back shards of Processed matter in a really concerningly cathartic manner.

You're ok. You are fine. You are calm. You are rational.

You are very much not considering justifiable homicide because that would be bad even if he does deserve it-

Trait Gained: Shaper- With these hands, you shape Remnant's future. Literally. Shaping Processed matter to your own uses comes naturally enough that you're almost convinced you've been able to do it since you were born. Now you just need to teach it how to emulate different materials, and chemicals, and machinery... this is gonna take a while.

Ok! Four out of five down, one more down than the others, and just one, really, really annoying prick to deal with. Your patient's good for another two hours, so that's not a worry, yet. So, let's focus on the one who you definitely aren't going to kill.

Fucking honest.

[] Valish Sniper- Your sword's not exactly made for anything beyond a hundred metres, but given enough time and patience, it can probably pin him where he is through sheer prediction, and start cutting off avenues until, well, he's got nowhere to go. Definitely the lowest-risk option- you won't even need to leave your bunker! Probably.

[] Close The Distance- Alternatively, don't fight the sniper on his preferred range. Take your sword and run/hoverboard your way there until you're close enough to Spin() him ten feet through the tarmac.

[] DAN! MA! KU!- The Process has guns. Many, many, many guns. Your sword is also, technically, a gun. Take that prediction software, slave the small armoury above your head to it, and just keep throwing high-powered plasma downrange until something hits. Chances are nothing really lethal will survive long enough in open air to punch through glass, so really you can't miss. D60.

[] Write-In