Promethean Blood - ch 10-

Manga continuity: HyperNotes/V5 continuation fic

Deunan & Bri in a police drama in Olympus - Actiony smiting & swearing ahoy. some cuddles. A lot of shouting. typical appleseed fic (I hope)

All characters and themes are Masamune Shirow. This is just my take on how I wished unfinished-V5 might have gone...

BRIAREOS

Only Deunan, he mused, could manage enough authority with voice alone that she could give orders and help coordinate triage while wearing nothing more than a tattered pleather-cat-suit and tramp-boots. Bloodied, and mussed, she looked like a hooker who'd had a particularly unlucky night, but she sounded and acted so much like a drill sargent that the uniformed policemen and medics around her hopped to it with only minimal appreciative staring between orders. He tried hard to pay attention to his own tasks. Volunteered as grunt labor, he focused as best he could on working in tandem with the pair of exos in order to carefully lift a portion of broken mezzanine off of some trapped civilians so that the EMTs could pull them out. It was hard to be pleased with the rescue efforts with his thoughts still running in random tangents about how the last hour had gone wrong, and how much _worse_ it could have gone wrong.

The fight with the cyborg woman, he could only assume it had been Deinoa based on the mods he'd noted from her photos, had been both sudden and ugly. How the terrorist had managed to collapse the club's upper deck he had no idea, but he'd taken enough hits from the petite looking terrorist that he could appreciate the skill with which she wielded her body. Small the woman might have been, in comparison to his bulk, but her kit had been plenty strong, and plenty fast. There'd been no hesitation in her strikes, at all. He didn't want to think about the bill he was likely to get when he checked into the clinic later to get the dents knocked out of his panels.

Looking at the scuffs and marks on his hands and arms inevitably reminded him of Deunan. She was going to be seriously hurting once she stopped to take stock of herself. Her new injuries made the bruises that had worried him before look like child's play. Why the hell she hadn't let someone else take on her corner of the room in favor of getting one of the ever-helpful nurses to start taping her up? It was a question that didn't need to be asked. Briareos already new the answer. She wasn't sitting down because she either didn't _feel_ it yet or was just too angry to care. With all of her attention focused on the victims, and her squad mates, there was none to spare for herself. He sighed in frustration at the recent trend and decided that if she wasn't going to act in her own best interest, he would.

Setting his corner of the wreckage down when bid, Briareos retreated to the CIC truck before someone could think of another chore requiring a strong-back. He borrowed an overcoat off the hooks, figuring whoevers it was, they'd get it back via HQ in a day or two.

His left knee was definitely in need of work, he figured, bending the joint carefully as he walked and keeping a close eye on the status telltales his AI was displaying. The knee was yellow and steadily degrading to orange with each step he took. By the time it went to red, he figured it'd just give out under him. Probably he ought to sit down before it became a risk. Still, there were one or two things he wanted to take care of first. The primary of which involved draping the borrowed coat he'd procured over Deunan's sagging shoulders. She turned to look up at him in startled wonder.

"Figured you'd be feeling the cold now that things have calmed down." He offered, feeling chagrined all over again at their recent failures to be remotely civilized with each other. They'd sunk pretty low, he figured, when something as stupid as being provided a coat left her staring at him as if waiting for a new reason to cringe.

"So it wasn't just that you got tired of me tramping up the place?" She half-smiled at him, the humor was self-effacing, but the challenge was there if he looked in her eyes.

"I think we may have to retire the boots." He shrugged. Even if he'd been inclined to critique her outfit, there was no way he was picking another fight with her after the day they'd had. "As these were done in 'at work' I bet we can get Lance to expense you a new pair at the end of the month."

She looked down, noting how the faux leather was torn and hopelessly scuffed in places, and then over at the way he was favoring his knee. "Looks like the expense sheet's going to be a long one this time." She agreed slowly. "You going to hold together long enough for triage and a ride to the clinic?"

"Yeah. It'll keep." The idea that he'd have to go to the clinic _again_ left Briareos feeling even more exhausted. He'd just _left_ the damned place. He didn't want to go to back. He wanted to go _home_ and put the week behind him for twelve hours... preferably twenty-four. He was long over due for a serious heart-to-heart with Deunan in order somehow figure out how to patch things with her in a way they both could live with.

If he went back to the clinic they'd just tranquilize him again in the vain hope of helping him sleep, and leave him at the mercy of his nightmares for _another_ block of useless hours. Briareos didn't give a shit about the 'quality of his theta-waves.' He expected that when he went in to be treated for 'x' they did as they were told and didn't go trying to treat him for 'y' without his permission. Especially considering that the treatment wasn't particularly effective. He quashed his annoyance before his girl could misread him and get defensive again. Lifting a hand to her arm, he gave her a gentle squeeze, hoping that somehow she understood his relief that she was still alive, and better yet, talking to him. Nothing like dealing with a life-threatening situation, he supposed, to hit the 'reset' button on all the pettier feelings that had been getting between them.

"109, 113. Over here if you please." Lance was frowning in annoyance as he observed the cleanup from the doorway. He was kind enough to wait until they were close enough to not have voices carry before chewing them out as screw-ups.

Briareos stood and listened as Deunan gave her terse summary of events, filling in his side of things with equal economy of words when the old man's gaze turned his direction. There really wasn't much to say. He'd barely started a proper conversation with Enyo, before Deunan had swept in and carried the night with her usual flare. Hell, from the sound of it, her five-minute heart-to-heart in the bathroom with their suspect had more substance to it than the half hour's worth of small talk he'd tried. The lack of practice chatting up women in recent years had done nothing useful for his game. He'd never rated himself particularly high in the flirting-department before hitting it off with Deunan. And since then? There'd never been much need to hone his lackluster skills at chatting up strangers. For all the help he'd been, he realized grimly, he might as well have stayed at the clinic. Sokak and his girl could have handled the whole thing without him.

The memory of Deunan calling to him for help, when it was all he could do to keep Deinoa from staving in his skull with her fists left his nerves jangling to the point of physical pain. He'd known she was in trouble, but there was nothing he could do about it. The cyborg had him completely matched, despite the size difference, and would have likely gained the upper hand in short order if backup hadn't arrived. Briareos recognized that he'd been too distracted by his girl's troubles to give the fight the absolute attention it deserved. His opponent had to have been counting on it, the timing of her attack had been too good for it to be just coincidence.

The memory of Deinoa's little smile as she'd stalked him left him cold. No amount of enhance feminine appeal could counteract the pure evil her look had held. The woman's eyes had glowed in the dark - the same as his, he supposed – but with her otherwise human features it had been disconcerting, giving her an even more feral, almost lunatic look as they'd battled across the club. It was a true miracle, he marveled that he'd managed to not backhand a civilian in the course of their violent scramble. It was small consolation that he'd kept the _third_ cyborg from getting to Deunan, or for that matter, getting to _him_ during their struggle. He was supposed to be _apprehending_ suspects, not just providing a lack luster distraction to them while his girl did all the real work.

As a cyborg, he supposed, he really was a bit of a failure.

It was rather hypocritical of him, Briareos decided, to be angry at Deunan for not wanting to be limited by her only-human abilities as she strove to master her profession. It was a wonder she didn't call him on his bullshit. She had to know by now - that the real reason he preferred tactics to direct confrontation was that he was, even now, scared of what his body could do if he didn't hold back. He sighed, looking sideways at his partner, cringing mentally at the darkening bruises on her face, neck and arms. His girl had survived one hell of a beating. Sure the doctors could probably have her looking better in an hour or two, but that didn't change the fact that it had happened. He'd let it happen. Next time, he promised himself, feeling the anger and helplessness coalesce into a firm lump in his gut. Next time? He wouldn't stop until Deinoa and her sisters were down, whatever that took.

Lance was grumbling about slapdash preparations and the like while he wasn't paying attention. Briareos sighed to himself and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Yet again he was left with the impression that he – they - hadn't done anything in particular wrong, exactly, and yet somehow, they'd utterly failed in doing the thing _right_ too. Two officers dead this time. He winced internally at the idea of attending the funerals. He'd barely known the men but that wouldn't stop him from including them in nightmares in the weeks and months to come. Looking briefly sideways towards Deunan, he noted his girl's pinched and pale expression. She was feeling it too, he knew. The men hadn't been her subordinates, exactly, but they'd died trying to help her, and that was just as bad as far as she was concerned. Lance summarized events from his perspective and then paused, letting them have a moment to add anything else that might have been overlooked. Briareos had nothing to say.

Deunan rubbed her hair and sighed. "So all three got away? No ability to track _any_ of them?"

"It doesn't seem that way." The colonel agreed. "The first..." He pointed upwards towards the hole in the roof. "Drew our fire with her attack on the building, a diversionary tactic, we now know. While the second broke through the cordon at the back. We're still investigating where the third slipped off to... Reports from the cordon are rather confused as to what exactly the woman looked like, other than to say that the cyborg in question was severely injured. "We found traces of material from one or both of your opponents, and have delivered the items to forensics for further study."

He produced an evidence bag with a familiar looking mini-stun-gun in it. Briareos glanced towards Deunan with grudging respect. She was insane to have gone after a cyborg with such a minimal weapon. The fact that it had worked? Only mitigated her absurd risk-taking slightly. Judging by Lance's expression, the old man seemingly agreed with him. Deunan merely shrugged, the bruising around her throat making her voice lower than usual. "You try fitting an uzi in an outfit like this one and see how far you get. Hand to hand combat wasn't the objective of this operation, sir."

"That may be, 109. But this isn't standard equipment. Dare I ask where you even acquired such a thing?"

"It's legit." She shrugged again, looking a little defensive. "I got it at an authorized weapon's dealer in west-side a few months ago. Thought it was cool, with the whole compact-rechargeable-battery-thing..."

Briareos vaguely remembered the shop, as well as the impulse purchase. He had no room to complain. He'd dithered over buying a gorgeous replica harpoon-gun for easily half an hour before deciding that it just wasn't worth the hassle of shipping it home. By comparison, the stunner had been positively souvenir-like in its size and affordability.

Deunan sighed again, looking peeved at herself as she glanced towards the bathroom again. "Damn it... I knew it was too good to be true. I might as well have not bothered to hide her in the first place."

"Hide who." Briareos blinked at the odd comment. "Hide where."

"Enyo." His girl tucked her hands in her borrowed coat's pockets. "I stuffed her in the closet after knocking the other one out, figuring that with luck 'big sis' would be so bent on chasing me that she'd forget to fetch her sister, but no such luck. They probably have trackers on each other."

Briareos blinked again, that particular detail having not made it into his partner's initial report. "You said you her temporarily incapacitated in the bathroom..."

The idea that Deunan had fought not just one, but _two_ combat cyborgs in the span of ten minutes. That she'd done it _on her own_, and sustained nothing more than bruises for her trouble, was likely going to be a department legend by morning. He tried not to think too hard about it, not sure if what he was feeling was awe, or terror. His girl was, for the moment, too tired to remember to gloat over her unbelievable accomplishment.

"I did. I managed to knock Agara out for a minute during my fight with _her_, and stuffed Enyo in the utility-closet for safe keeping." Deunan rubbed her hand through her mussed hair, looking utterly spent. "Figured... unless Enyo woke up and bitched, her sister would assume I'd turned her over to the squad when she came around and would chase me instead of looking... What, why are you both staring at me like that..?"

Lance tapped his earpeice before Briareos could muster the focus to use his internal circuits. "CIS, have you checked the utility closet for... yes do it now if you please..."

The old man closed his eyes with a tired sigh as he listened to the report on a private channel, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he waited. Able to hear the distant noises of surprise from across the room, Briareos reached out to squeeze Deunan's shoulder in silent amazement at her antics. His girl looked up at him in mute indifference, clearly having given her plan up as stupid long ago.

"Deunan..." He didn't know whether to shake her by the shoulders for taking the risks she had, or kiss her full on the mouth for her absolute brilliance. She'd _done_ it. Damn near entirely on her own, she'd pulled off the ESWAT coup of the month, possibly of the year. His cynical side pointed out that it only made his own recent failures all the more glaring, to be shown up by his girl's quick thinking when opportunity came her way, and her devilishly good luck in combat. She was getting more like her father with each passing year. He wondered to himself whether it was a good thing or not.

"What now?" She couldn't hear it, he abruptly realized, seeing she was still confused. Without radio confirmation, or the ability to listen through walls, she was clueless as to her success.

"Well." Lance cleared his throat at last. "That was... surprising. Lieutenant Knute, you _do_ know that it's a civil offense in Olympus to deactivate a cyborg against his or her will, correct?"

"Yessir."

"And deactivating one... and then dropping them in a oversized trash barrel... It might be seen, by some concerned party, as an attempt to commit homicide. If she'd gone undiscovered by the waste removal facility, she might have made it as far as the city dump without means of rescuing herself."

"I know, sir, it was only meant to be temp- wait, she's still there?" Deunan blinked, slowly realizing what she was being told. "You're kidding. I thought you said all three had escaped..."

"So we had surmised, based on the evidence that none of the three were materially _present_ here at the scene." Their commander drawled slowly.

All three of them watched in various degrees of resignation as a small group of EMTs hustled towards the bathroom with a hover-stretcher, and just as swiftly returned with a limp cybernetic female strapped to the cart, whisking her off to a secure facility.

Lance produced a cigar from within the lining of his coat and quietly prepped and lit it before looking at them both with chagrined good humor. "I believe I will have to speak firmly with the CIS squad leaders responsible for cleanup on any future operations you plan to run, Lieutenant. Just to ensure that they pay careful attention to closets, garbage chutes, and under mattresses for any _further_ surprises you may wish to bestow upon me."

"Oh." Still too startled to recognize a tease when she heard it, Deunan seemed to take the scold at face value. "Sorry, sir."

"Officer Knute," he corrected her. "Well done."

Deunan smiled broadly, wincing as it caused her lip to bleed slightly with the movement. "Thank you, sir."

"Idiot." Briareos murmured when she turned to look up at him for further confirmation that she'd done good work. Wrapping his arm around her back, he squeezed her to his side, wary of her fresh bruises. If he needed a clinic and twelve hours of sleep? She definitely needed a doctor. "Let's get you patched up, huh?"

"A moment, 113." The colonel interrupted his initial move to shift his partner with a more serious tone. "I have caught up with the reports from the past few days, from various sources... and I confess, I was... unhappily surprised by some of what I saw. I realize of course, that ESWAT hasn't known you long, officers, but even so. There's a certain lack of professionalism observed recently that is not what I've come to expect from the pair of you."

Briareos could feel Deunan tensing beside him, and squeezed her in silent warning to take the rebuke without complaint. The old man wasn't wrong. They'd definitely been out of line lately, him more so than her, perhaps, but like the old saying went, it took two to tango. Lance watched them both with far too knowing an expression for his level of comfort. Briareos told himself to not squirm under the searching gaze.

"Still, maybe... people were simply over reacting. The two of you seem capable of performing at your normal level when properly motivated. Therefore I will assume that this... unusual behavior... is merely a temporary hiccup in an otherwise solid record."

"Thank you, sir." His girl's words jarred him into answering in kind. It was rather 'unprofessional', Briareos belatedly realized, to be accepting a dressing down while clinging to his partner. Still, if he dropped his arm now, it'd be a guilty gesture, and likely leave Deunan feeling dismissed as well. He kept his arm where it was. Better to just grit his teeth and pretend that holding onto her at this point was an act of solidarity rather than intimacy, although he couldn't imagine it being taken in that way.

"Never-the-less. I'd like you both to think carefully about any underlying issues that may be causing this noticeable discord? Perhaps discuss it amongst yourselves. You have twenty-four hours. After which time I will ask you to report to me, separately, to share any thoughts you may have on the subject of your goals within ESWAT as individuals." The colonel looked at his touch pad with a few short jabs, confirming what he likely already knew. "The appointments are already scheduled on your personal calendars, and supersede any other regularly scheduled daily items. I am relieving you both of duty until then, effective immediately."

Looking up, he gestured with his stylus towards the hard working EMTs. "Both of you get yourselves checked out... and then get out of my sight until then. Do I make myself understood?"

"Yessir." Briareos answered for both of them this time, feeling Deunan mutely nodding her head at his side. She remained quiet all the way to the triage post. When he left her in the care of the nurses, he couldn't help but wonder if the puffiness around her eyes was from the fight, or from holding back her tears. Determined to get checked out, and get her home before the crying jag truly kicked in, he limped off to find a doctor for himself too.

It was kind of pathetic, he figured, when every single one of the clinicians in the cybernetics triage truck knew him on sight, and he could name half of them in return. He sighed as they poked and prodded, letting them get on with pulling him apart to begin the inevitable field repairs. As much as he might bitch to his girl that she'd been playing a hell of a lot rougher since coming to Olympus, the length of his maintenance log wasn't getting any shorter with each passing month. The city was larger, the stakes higher... There was no denying. The game was just that much _harder_ than it had been back in LA.

ESWAT really was wrestling with international-level bullshit in terms of the criminals they faced and the weapons they brought to bear. The proverbial buck, in terms of law enforcement, stopped with _them_... and if they failed? Briareos stared at the ceiling as the eggheads debated the wiring in his busted knee. Who did ESWAT escalate to if they bit off more than they could chew? Olympus' tiny standing army? Some sort of UN-appointed task force? It hadn't happened yet. Briareos hoped to hell it never would. But the problem remained a crucial one. How could anyone, even someone blooded under the infamous command of Colonel Knute, keep up with the shit Olympus was navigating through, day in day out?

The work was harder, the fights meaner, the hours... frankly were down right brutal. It was all well and good for a cyborg like him. He supposed. He could always upgrade hardware to keep up with the enemy. If his stubborn dreams would leave off for a while, he could even get a full night's worth of sleep in two or three hours, thanks to the Hecatonchire's assist, instead of a normal eight. What was someone like Deunan supposed to do? How the hell could any normal human keep up? How did Magus do it?

Briareos sighed to himself. There was no guarantee that their squad leader actually _was_ entirely human anymore. Just because he looked flesh and blood didn't mean he hadn't had work done beneath the skin where it was less obvious. He didn't _think_ the man had, but really, how was he to know?

Deunan could, and did, train harder than she ever had. But there was a limit to what her body could stand. She could wield better weapons, wear stronger armor, but in the end, would it really help? The constant injuries, the stress, the exhaustion... Whether she wanted to admit it or not, they were taking their toll. He mentally reached out to nudge the computers he was plugged in to, daring the less-than-ethical tactic of leaning on them in order to get access to the ESWAT network remote link that someone had set up.

It was child's play to pull up Deunan's medical data from the triage truck out in the street. Heart beat and respiration, elevated but normal, despite all rational expectation, she seemed to have walked off her fight without any major injuries. He glanced through the clinician's notes, wincing at the laundry list of moderate injuries she'd accrued since dinner, never mind the ones she was already dealing with from the day before. It wasn't fair, he shook his head as he wrestled with the problem. He'd promised her father that he'd look after her. But how the hell was he supposed to protect her from herself? What on earth had made her think that taking down Enyo solo was a good idea? Why would she even want to? The girl he'd known back in LA wouldn't have been that insane, despite her reputation for wildness. He was sure of it. The girl he'd fought beside in the war had been calculating, and devil-may-care at times, but she'd stuck with her team, even then, knowing when to strike and when to seek shelter.

Briareos watched the techs work on his knee as he pondered the problem. Something had changed with Deunan. He couldn't quite pinpoint the exact day, or hour that the change had happened, probably it was _still_ happening. But he didn't like it, and he didn't understand it. Something had happened, with their arrival in Olympus. Deunan's recent ridiculous risk taking, her stubbornness, her... brittleness... she seemed more like a stranger than his partner lately.

The idea that they were growing apart left him cold. It was strange to think that a girl that once upon a time he'd started a friendship with out of simple boredom had become so integral to his daily functioning. Briareos tried to imagine what life would be like without her, but found himself drawing a total blank, his brain simply refusing to allow for such an unwanted fantasy. The idea that she could be in the city, and not with _him_, was deeply troubling. Worse yet, he realized, would be if she didn't leave, but instead simply threw herself into danger again and again until... the inevitable happened.

Reaching out, he detached himself from the machines around him as their beeping grew annoying. He didn't need to be told that he was stressed and upset. He was well aware. The curt gesture caused the techs to look at him in sudden worry. Briareos forced himself to sit back and pretend to be more relaxed than he felt, for their sake. He was already bucking for a psych evaluation, he was certain that Lance would ask him to volunteer for one within the next thirty-six hours if the doctors didn't flat out tell him it was required. Briareos told himself to man-up and tolerate the unwanted intrusion without complaint. He'd brought it on himself with his recent moodiness.

Maybe they were right to worry. If anything it'd be good, perhaps, to get some of the shit in his head out into the air with someone impartial. Maybe the _shrink_ could tell him what was wrong with Deunan. The idea of hauling his girl in to swap places for him at his own psych assessment was almost comical. She'd flip her lid, he was certain. But that didn't mean she didn't need someone's help... if not his... than why not a shrink? That's what they were paid for wasn't it? To help people?

His subconscious teased him again with the image of what could have happened to his partner if the fight in the bathroom had gone wrong. Alone, with no backup, no useful weapons... she _shouldn't_ have survived that. The odds against her had been astronomical. Probably the only reason why she _had_ managed to get the jump on the cyborgs was because even they believed they couldn't be beaten with such extreme advantage on their side. But that didn't justify Deunan's willingness to try for it. The more he tried to deny the idea, the more the truth of it haunted him. Deunan wasn't just wild anymore. She was actively courting a death-wish.

Naming his worry for his girl helped give his thoughts focus, but didn't do much to provide inspiration on why it was, or how to fix it. Things were supposed to be _better_ in Olympus, Briareos sighed. After years of doing without, his girl had all the niceties of civilization she'd grown up with once more. Restaurants full of good food, shops full of pretty dresses, a soft bed to sleep in and hot water at the turn of a tap, in theory she could want for nothing. Even when it came to ways to keep her occupied every day, she ought to have been content. She was a policewoman again... respected by her teammates, admired by her friends.

So why did it seem like she'd been _happier_ in the badlands? They'd had next to nothing in the desert. Constantly under threat, half-starved, living on the edge of catastrophe. But somehow, Deunan had weathered one obstacle after the next with seemingly endless optimism. How contrary could a woman be? That she was joyful when faced with misery, and miserable when surrounded by the finest the world had to offer... He just didn't understand.

"We're done, sir." The tech's hesitant voice provided the needed distraction from his tangled thoughts. Heaving out of his chair, Briareos checked his joints before nodding his thanks to the crew that had worked on him. There were still plenty of dents from where Deinoa had landed hits on him, he sighed, but at least his status lights were all green again. The rest of the dings and marks would keep until his regular overhaul visit at the end of the month.

Checking Deunan's location one last time as he unjacked, he huffed to himself to find she was already in transit to HQ for followup treatment for her poor abused ribs. Briareos couldn't help but be sensitive to the fact that she hadn't called to tell him she was being moved. He told himself to stop being stupidly paranoid about it, but it didn't help. She'd been so erratic lately, he mused, sometimes almost clingy in her desire to be with him, sometimes short-tempered and distant, jumping on him for any slight she could imagine. Which was the real Deunan, he wondered. Her annoyance certainly didn't feel faked. In hindsight? It was hard to decide whether she'd been actually happy in recent memory, or whether she'd just been putting on a good show of it for his benefit. He shook his head telling himself to stop second guessing.

Lance had told them to go home and sort it out, once the doctors were through with them. It seemed like sound advice. Briareos shrugged back into his coat and made for the edge of the cordon, ignored by the remaining crew members working the cleanup. The only way for he and his girl to sort out this shit between them, he figured, was for them to talk. Truly _talk_ and not the bullshit small talk they'd been getting by with lately. He frowned to himself as he walked towards the nearest public transport pickup. When was the last time he and his girl has really talked? About anything? He added it to the growing list of worries he was determined to do something about.