Thirteen touches some heavy crates, lifting them silently to block the door.
"Okay, one? Stop. Talking."
He is talking too much.
There is a spark of red in his eyes. He isn't going to hurt him, but it's not like he knows how to handle this with nuance.
He can be kind. It's instinct. It's a base level of being that he was lucky enough to be programmed with. He was lucky the mental template was based on someone good and the partial brain scans left him with some of that morality.
Jim Harper was a good man.
And he was lucky that his earliest handler, KIA in a mission a year ago, was also good man. That he taught him to be a good man, despite everything. In his short life, Clark Kent was one of the best people Thirteen has ever known.
He treated him like a person, taught him things Walpert probably wouldn't have wanted him to know. In all honesty, that makes his death - combined with everything Walpert's been doing - seem awfully suspicious.
But despite that he still usually handles conflict like the weapon he is. With aggression.
Still, Tim's already afraid. He takes a deep breath, and the spark in his eyes dies down.
"Sorry. I'm not going to hurt you."
He needs to be made aware of what's going on. Maybe then the babbling for his life will stop.
"We just got orders to kill you since you're the only witness coherent enough to tell anyone what happened here. I don't know why. It's not necessary. And it's not - it's not how we used to operate. Civilians weren't just collateral before."
He shakes his head.
"But the person in charge of us has been giving orders that are more violent lately. Everything she's been doing has been shadier. Something's wrong."
He looks a the small earbud in his left hand, muffled by his teke.
"Three of us suspect the government project we're apart of has gone rogue."
He seems to make a decision at last, the teke dismantling the comm unit into its components. Then he takes off his helmet, casting it to the floor, smoothing a hand through black hair.
Even slightly mussy sweaty hair does not detract from the initial brickjaw impression Tim got at all. There is no secret acne or a Lima bean shaped head.
"If I don't follow orders and kill you, one of the others probably will. Most of them aren't bad people but their freedom is on the line. You need to come with me. We need to run."
no subject
"Okay, one? Stop. Talking."
He is talking too much.
There is a spark of red in his eyes. He isn't going to hurt him, but it's not like he knows how to handle this with nuance.
He can be kind. It's instinct. It's a base level of being that he was lucky enough to be programmed with. He was lucky the mental template was based on someone good and the partial brain scans left him with some of that morality.
Jim Harper was a good man.
And he was lucky that his earliest handler, KIA in a mission a year ago, was also good man. That he taught him to be a good man, despite everything. In his short life, Clark Kent was one of the best people Thirteen has ever known.
He treated him like a person, taught him things Walpert probably wouldn't have wanted him to know. In all honesty, that makes his death - combined with everything Walpert's been doing - seem awfully suspicious.
But despite that he still usually handles conflict like the weapon he is. With aggression.
Still, Tim's already afraid. He takes a deep breath, and the spark in his eyes dies down.
"Sorry. I'm not going to hurt you."
He needs to be made aware of what's going on. Maybe then the babbling for his life will stop.
"We just got orders to kill you since you're the only witness coherent enough to tell anyone what happened here. I don't know why. It's not necessary. And it's not - it's not how we used to operate. Civilians weren't just collateral before."
He shakes his head.
"But the person in charge of us has been giving orders that are more violent lately. Everything she's been doing has been shadier. Something's wrong."
He looks a the small earbud in his left hand, muffled by his teke.
"Three of us suspect the government project we're apart of has gone rogue."
He seems to make a decision at last, the teke dismantling the comm unit into its components. Then he takes off his helmet, casting it to the floor, smoothing a hand through black hair.
Even slightly mussy sweaty hair does not detract from the initial brickjaw impression Tim got at all. There is no secret acne or a Lima bean shaped head.
"If I don't follow orders and kill you, one of the others probably will. Most of them aren't bad people but their freedom is on the line. You need to come with me. We need to run."