Gigabyte 044 - Tantum Verum

[electronichound]

When whoever is involved in trying to shut away Jennifer wants input from a professional, let me know.

[Batou has figured out that reading books in the library gives him visual glitches and deletes portions of his memory, and thus he is compelled to action. He's normally quite content to let the other passengers do whatever it is they want, but

Comments

[commentlog]

[aprimemover]

[The Rowan has gotten a bit lazy as she's grown used to the ship. Because telepathy is so unpredictable, she doesn't scan her targets for minds, just gives a quick clairvoyant sweep to make sure her intended landing zone is clear.

So when she 'ports in with a puff of displaced air less than a meter behind Batou, it's entirely unintentional, and she blinks at his broad back. That's a bit closer than she likes.]

[commentlog]

[electronichound]

[Movement behind him, and the displaced air washes over Batou's exposed skin and hair. His cyberbrain calculates the amount of air displaced and its speed, and in less than half a second scores an alert across his main visual window. Something of rough humanoid shape has teleported seventy-three centimetres behind his back

[commentlog]

[aprimemover]

[So inhumanly fast.

By the time the Rowan's reflexes kick in and she instinctively gives Batou a telekinetic shove hard enough to send a human his size flying, his punch has already landed on the wall behind her.]

[commentlog]

[electronichound]

[The shove happens after Batou's already bent the wall and has started the process of releasing the fist while self-diagnostics ensure that his punch was within safety parameters and that he's uninjured. Of course, his synthetic skin was torn off at the points of contact with the wall and thin, white fluid drips down his fingers as Batou straightens upright.

Clotting Abrasions A through H
Progress: Abrasion A 3.9%
Abrasions B 2.44%
Abrasion C 2.43%
Abrasion D ...

Batou shoves the information into a secondary window, then finally looks down at the spot on his shoulder where the shove impacted. No damage and it didn't even push him back a step.

Batou waits another second to make sure that her awareness has caught up to the fact that she's alive and he isn't hostile.]

Are you alright?

[commentlog]

[aprimemover]

[What the hell just happened? The Rowan clamps down on the adrenaline spike, and her breathing and heart rate instantly drop back to normal, though she can't quite stop the entirety of withdrawal.]

How much do you weigh?

[She sounds almost...offended. He should be five meters away on his back, dammit.]

[commentlog]

[electronichound]

Several hundred kilograms without gear.

[Batou can watch her pupils expand as her fear receeds faster than is normal for a typical human. She has no cyberbrain or he'd be able to make infrared contact with it through her eyes, so it might be related to her ability to teleport.

She's obviously no regular woman.]

Don't do that again. I nearly killed you.

[commentlog]

[aprimemover]

[The Rowan glares at him, wishing her clairvoyance were stronger--but it's enough. Where there should be bones is metal and circuitry, and while it's there, his mind cuts in and out like someone playing with a lightswitch.]

What are you?

[Clearing this up is more important than whatever he's on about.]

[commentlog]

[electronichound]

[How rude.

Batou scowls.]

I'm a cop.

[Maybe he should have just splattered bits of her skull on the bulkhead.]

[commentlog]

[aprimemover]

[No one's demanded she behave herself for the past year and a half. She's rusty.

The Rowan scowls right back. It's just a bit less impressive coming from a pretty young woman who weighs maybe 45 kilos soaking wet than it is from Batou.]

You've got a bit of a hair trigger for a peace officer.

[Police where she's from, even the nastier parts of Earth, mostly give directions to tourists and pull kittens out of trees. Talent, especially precog, has cut down on crime considerably.]

Re: [commentlog]

[electronichound]

I specialize in anti-terrorism. We aren't popular and I have no desire to die.

[Batou doesn't quite understand yet that "peace officer" really means "peace officer" where she comes from.]

[commentlog]

[aprimemover]

[Oh, dramatize. The Rowan thinks that's hyperbole, at best, and gives him an unimpressed look.]

I can't imagine why you're not popular.

[They are going to be best friends, I can tell.]

[commentlog]

[electronichound]

[He's not exagerating at all. Batou deals with about half a dozen direct attempts on his life a year, and that's only assassination plots that deal with him specifically. It's not a huge community, the world of terrorism, and Section 9 is Kinda a Big Deal in the northern hemisphere.

He grunts.]

You asked what kind of cop I am. I answered. Your turn, missy.

[commentlog]

[aprimemover]

["Missy?" The Rowan draws herself up to her full five-feet-in-shoes height. If Batou could feel the rage she's broadcasting, he'd be cowed, I assure you.

As it is, her eyes just tighten and her jaw clenches.]

I'm Callisto Prime.

[You see the error of your ways now, surely, Batou?]

[commentlog]

[electronichound]

Ms Prime. I'm Batou.

[He thought she was introducing herself. He waits for more. Surely there'll be more? Because right now she seems like a magical trophy-wife or something with this kind of attitude, naivite and random teleporting powers.]

[commentlog]

[aprimemover]

[Fortunately for the Rowan's blood pressure, she's too annoyed to be fishing around in Batou's mind and pick up that comparison.]

"Prime" is a title.

I'm the Rowan.

[Which, in addition to being her name is...also kind of a title, but she's not exactly thinking straight right now.]

[commentlog]

[electronichound]

[Batou doesn't really use titles except for people like the Prime Minister and the Chief.]

So your name is...?