A/N: This is a crossover, but I've listed it under just P&P because otherwise it just gets lost among crossovers.

I haven't done a short story in a while (I'm notorious about overrunning planned story length), I've never done a crossover, and I've never done an AU (Alternate Universe). I thought I could knock off all three in one fell swoop.

As usual, OOC, OTT, all the other O things that might scare off the meek. It even has some bad language (more than 'some', actually). Being both crossover and AU I'm taking a break from Regency lingo.

This will be short and fast – 13 chapters or so using my Dialogue Only style from The Wedding Afternoon and Emma Bee. Should be published within a week or so.

Warning: Bad language AU

Wade

Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine women, with an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr. Darcy soon drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien, and the report which was in general circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of his having ten thousand a year. The gentlemen pronounced him to be a fine figure of a man, the ladies declared he was much handsomer than Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at with great admiration for about half the evening, till his manners gave a disgust which turned the tide of his popularity; for he was discovered to be proud; to be above his company, and above being pleased; and not all his large estate in Derbyshire could then save him from having a most forbidding, disagreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be compared with his friend.

P&P Chapter 3

"There it is Bingley!"

"Who? Where? What?"

"See the short brunette over there on the right, next to the tall blonde."

"Noticed the blonde!"

"Naturally! Look next to it."

"To be honest, she looks more like your type, Darcy."

"You know my type?"

"Yes, of course! Your type is anyone other than the blonde. She's mine!"

"Hehehe…"

"What's so amusing?"

"You'll see… You'll see… Shall we return to the brunette?"

"By all means, sir! I would never suspend any pleasure of yours. Why did you call her 'it'? I presume a slip of the tongue?"

"No, sir! That is entirely intentional. Unless I am mistaken –which I rarely am– that my good man is a genuine Elizabot 3000!"

"You are shitting me! You are goddamned shitting me!"

"Nope! Serious as a heart attack!"

"A 3000 you say?"

"Yes, a genuine Elizabot!"

"Holy Shit! Hoooooooly Shiiiiitbiscuits! I thought they were a myth."

"Most do. Nobody has confirmed one in well over a century, and the veracity of that claim is kinda suspect. One school of thought is they never actually existed. Most think they existed once but they're extinct."

"Yowser! Just Yowser! If you retire an Elizabot, you'll be the most famous bladerunner in the world."

"Yeah, I suppose so but it has to be done very carefully. Do it right and you retire a monster. Do it wrong and you murder an innocent woman and hang for it."

"That outcome seems suboptimal."

"Yes, very far from optimal, I fear. On top of that, there's also another way it can go sideways."

"Pray, enlighten me, oh wise one!"

"They're tough as goddamned titanium nails. There's a very good chance if they tweak your ass, that you will be the one retired."

"ME! Gotta say, Darce – not a big fan of that outcome."

"Agreed. They're notoriously difficult to prove and even harder to retire. They're super clever and the tests take quite some time. I may need help."

"Whoooaaa! Freaking hold on there, Bucko! I'm no bladerunner!"

"Of course not, but don't worry. I won't ask you to do anything dangerous."

"Those sound suspiciously like famous last words. What do you have in mind?"

"For the moment, I need you to distract the companion."

"Companion?"

"The tall willowy blonde thing. Elizabots always have a companion. They usually have a one-syllable name… Ruth, Anne, Beth, Grace, Jane… that sort of thing. Elizabots always have a three or four syllable name… Elizabeth, Elinore, Harriet, Catherine, Marion, Boudicca, Cassandra, Cleopatra."

"Why?"

"The original designer was quirky, I suppose."

"Do they actually have free will?"

"How the shit would I know? I think that's a question for the philosophers or mechanics or something."

"All right… all right. So! The companion, eh! Is that the blonde?"

"Yes."

"I imagine it wouldn't kill me to distract her."

"You might want to rephrase that. They're even tougher than Elizabots. The Elizabots were designed for espionage and the companions for protection and combat. They're nearly impossible to terminate with anything short of a cannon. Don't worry, though… companions never harm sidekicks."

"Never?"

"Well… hardly ever anyway… at least, not usually."

"Not filling me with a lot of confidence there, Darce."

"Just dance with it, Bingley."

"What will you be doing?"

"Part of the test involves getting the replicant rattled. I'm going to stalk around staring at it, and then I'll insult it. You dance a set or two with the companion, flirt with it a bit, and then come and nag me to dance like you usually do. After that, just follow my lead. I can get a couple of data points from the reaction."

"This doesn't sound like the best plan, Darcy."

"You have a better one?"

"No, not really. You're the bladerunner. As long as the companion doesn't practice her lethality on me, I'm good."

"Let's get to it."