Summary: Bladerunner Adrienne Santos is given the mission to 'retire' two replicants that illegally stays in Los Angeles. It turns out to be more than just another job; it will be a hard lesson in love, hate, and what really constitutes intelligent life. Roy Batty/OFC
Disclaimer: I do not own Bladerunner or any of the characters you might recognise from the movie. I do own the character of Adrienne Santos.
Warnings: Adult situations, Death, Character death, Moderately explicit sexual content, Graphic violence, Harsh language, Murder, Semi-non-consensual sex, Torture.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Notes: This is an AU of the film. Read the warnings!
I've tried a different prose style, altering between then and now throughout the fic. Please, let me know if it works, or if it is confusing.
The quotes are all from W. Blake.
Dream of Electric Sheep
'Cruelty has a human heart'-------------
'Do androids dream of electric sheep?'
I know it now. Replicants dream. They dream of being men, they dream of being accepted, loved and appreciated for the perfect living creatures they are.
They dream of not being alone when they die.
Just like the rest of us.
Man created its equal; designed it with a brilliant mind, heightened senses and superior physical abilities until it outshone them - and then they put them out in the off-world colonies, as mere slaves, breaking new ground for man.
This new, improved version started to turn against its creator, unsatisfied with their lots as soldier-slaves, miner-slaves, pleasure-slaves … they became dangerous. So their life span was cut into only a few years. So they wouldn't have time to learn. So they wouldn't start feeling, wanting… yearning… So they wouldn't strive for what man have and discover the painful truth about their own existence.
After a bloody mutiny by a NEXUS 6 combat team in an off-world colony, replicants were declared illegal on earth - under penalty of death.
Special police squads - Blade Runner Units - had orders to shoot to kill, upon detection, any trespassing replicant.
This was not called execution.
It was called retirement.
Do they mourn their short life? Do they feel sadness over their fallen comrades? Do they cry?
I know for a fact that they don't know tears. The ability to cry, the gift to feel your eyes water in grief was never given to them. Maybe it wasn't considered necessary? Or maybe it was seen as a weakness they didn't need to have?
Roy howled in pain, though. When Pris was taken from him… when she was retired, he mourned. It was more real, more emotional than anything I'd ever felt.
Then he went on his final killing spree.
I am Adrienne Santos and I am a Blade Runner. I inherited Pris and Roy from Rick Deckard when he suddenly went missing in the middle of the mission. It might be a coincidence, but Eldon Tyrell's skin job, Rachael, disappeared at the same time.
I know what I think.
I leave it be. I liked Deckard. He saved my life once and I owe him.
I hope they'll be happy - for as long as it lasts.
Episode 1:1, Sebastian's apartment, the last night
Pris is beautiful.
I feel a quickly fleeing jealousy as I see her blond, fair complex and tall, lean form. Compared to my own stubby body and ragged black hair, she looks like an angel.
They must be a perfect match.
A deadly match.
The feeling of admiration is immediately replaced by adrenaline. She attacks me furiously. She could've been an amazing artist, flying through the fuckin' air like there were no laws of gravitation. I shoot at her several times, misses all the time, and she keeps coming at me. My chest hurts and I cough blood. I've probably broken a rib or two and definitely my nose. I spit out half a tooth. The worst, though, is all the times my head slams against the floor.
'Pleasure model', my ass… you the sadist in an S&M brothel?
In a haze, I see her coming at me again. That's a new thing; I haven't even seen her before, just felt the pain. Maybe she's getting cocky because I look beaten?
I lift the tip of my gun a couple of inches from the floor and fire. It jerks to life in my hand.
Pris keeps falling until she hits the opposite wall.
I lie completely still for a moment, then I stagger to my feet, ready to shoot again, but she's a goner.
Unable to move, my mouth hanging open because I can't breathe through my nose any more, I stare at her macabre death dance. She scream and twitch until the spark that shone so brightly finally and reluctantly died.
The rustle from back at the main entrance alerts me that there's still one to go.
I have to keep moving and wince as I sneak out of the apartment.
Then the howling starts.
Episode 1:2, Mall across Los Angeles, Three Days earlier
Had I known what Bryant asked of me that afternoon when he and Gaff caught up with me in the lively mall on the outskirts of Los Angeles, I would have declined more determinedly. I'd have allowed them to rob me of my job, my place, my non-existing friends… anything would have been better than what was awaiting me.
But I had no idea.
"Enjoying your time off, Mademoiselle?" Gaff barked.
I jerked and almost dropped my bags. I hadn't seen them coming.
"Boss," I acknowledged to Bryant, dismissing Gaff. I loathed the man. He was a creep.
"Cooking this night, Santos?" Gaff asked and crooked a finger inside one of my brown grocery bags.
I snatched it away from him and gave him a dirty look. "None of your damn business. Watcha doin' here? Cat coughed you back up again?"
"Clever, very clever," he grinned. "Bueno."
I ignored him as I kept walking and turned back to Bryant. "Thought I told you guys to give me a break?"
Bryant was never much for pleasantries. "We've got a job for you."
"I have a job. I don't do that shit any more. I'm patrolling now. You know that."
"Four skin jobs. Jumped a shuttle off-world, killed the crew and passengers. We found the shuttle drifting off the coast two weeks ago, so we know they're around."
"That can't possibly be my problem since I'm not WORKING FOR YOU anymore!" I stopped. "Besides, I thought Deckard was on that?"
A cold spear stabbed my heart and I stopped for a moment.
"He's disappeared," Bryant went on.
I frowned. "What do you mean 'disappeared'?"
"What I said. He's gone AWOL. Papers and clothes gone too."
Inwardly, I sighed with relief. He wasn't dead. Deckard had been one of the few good Blade Runners, and by 'good' I didn't mean he was frickin' trigger happy, like the rest of them. Like the son-of-a-bitch Gaff, like Elnard, like Hollen.
Deckard had had a conscience.
I brushed past him and kept walking towards the exit. "Still can't see why this is of my concern."
Gaff's butt-ugly face suddenly appeared in my field of vision, his bad eye glimmering threateningly. "Boss wasn't FINITO yet. It's RUDE to walk out mid talkie-talkie." Well eat sh- I stopped, glared menacingly at him and turned to Bryant, wanting to crush something. I didn't want to get sucked back into the killing, the lonely life, the bravado of the murdering cops that had sought out the only branch within LAPD where you actually got to kill. A lot.
"Deckard's already retired two of'em. Makes it two left." Well, I know math! "One male and one female. The male's a tricky son-of-a-bitch, he's been one of our elite soldiers at the frontiers… the female's a pleasure model, not to be underestim-"
"Whadda ya want from me?" I interrupted him. I really didn't want to hear any more. "I'm just a reg cop now. I don't deal shit like this anymore; I help old ladies cross the street, catch the same junkie who robs Wang at the local corner noodle every Frid-"
"You know the score, gal," he interrupted calmly. "You're no cop, you're little people. You don't have a saying in this. I want you, I get you."
"No choice, huh?" I gritted my teeth, knowing the end of this.
He shook his head.
"No choice, gal."
Episode 2:1, Sebastian's building, the last night
The hair on my skin stands straight up as Roy Batty, the last of the four, howls out his anger and his grief.
And I know I have to be fast, or I'll be SO fucked.
Lord, have mercy on my soul.
But I know he won't. The son-of-a-bitch abandoned me a long time ago.
I have a feeling, though, that we are two. Two God-less creatures in here tonight.
Maybe we deserve each other?
My gaze darts between the abandoned galley and the multitude of door-less openings to my left. Water pours down on me through the damaged roof, the acidic rain gnawing its way through all things; living as well as dead. Stay in it too long, it'll eat its way to the bones. The large gun is heavy in my hand and still it sits like united with my flesh. Like old times… I clench my hand tighter. I used to get my kick out of this too once.
Until I missed.
Killed a human.
Never got over it. I traded her life for my own. I haven't lived a day since, just… survived… I used to sit countless nights, staring at my blaster, wondering how long it'd take before anyone found me.
So I left the fuckin' killin' business and devoted myself to help the little people.
But here I am again.
Can't wash the stripes out of the tiger.
I wonder, though; who's the predator and who's the prey in this dance? I have a feeling he knows exactly where I am, and that he's only playing me.
Where are you?
Batty has evaded me for the last twenty minutes. I lick my wounded lips and feel with my tongue over the sharp edges of the broken tooth. I was thoroughly beaten up by his mate, Pris, before I killed her. Every breath I take send sharp spikes of pain through my chest. Three blasts in the middle of her sternum ended her vicious attacks and all the hatred. I still hear her screams in my ears and it's sending goosebumps all over my body.
She didn't go easy. None of them ever do. It's as if they love life too much to let go; as if they love life even more than we humans do.
I wonder why?
I move quietly along the upper corridor, my back to the wall, kneeling before I reach each opening, peek in and back again, my heart in my throat.
He keeps howling; each renewed eerie roar penetrates my head until I want to scream right back. I can hear him moving; the sound of his powerful voice fades and then comes closer again. Sweating, I press myself to the wall to avoid being seen. I squeeze my gun harder; it almost slips in my slick palm before I steady it.
"Adrienne!" he suddenly calls.
How the hell…? How did you know it was me?
Maybe he's already seen me, or can he freakin' smell me? It wouldn't surprise me one bit.
I don't even breathe, cursing the fact that he knows who I am. That he knows too damn well.
"You killed Pris." He suddenly sounds very matter-of-factly, almost amused.
I know I'm gonna die. If I don't put a bullet in him from a distance, I'll die. I know that either he goes because his time is up, or he kills me. Or both. There's no chance in hell I'll survive a close encounter with Batty. I barely made it with Pris, but Batty… he's a one-man killing tool for Christ's sake. He's an army. They made him well, I should know.
I do know.
Just one shot. That's all I ask. Then I'll be good. I'll be really good...
I slide along the wall, blinking the water out of my eyes, rubbing my forehead with the back of my hand. The rain drives me insane. When all this is over, I'm gonna get the hell out of here and go somewhere sunny. And green. Deckard did the only sane thing. Who the fuck cares what they do with the toys they make? I'm done cleaning up after Tyrell Corporation.
Right now, I'm unable to back out, though. I'm sure now that he can smell me; sense my female hormones, the stale sweat, the dirt on my neck because I haven't taken a shower for days, Pris' blood on my hands…
I choke a scream as I suddenly hear him right behind the wall where I crouch.
"You killed my mate," he whispers from the other side of the wall, then his fist slams right through it and grabs my shoulder along with some strands of hair. Finally, I scream, loud and shrill.
Roy giggles insanely behind me as I fumbling try to free myself from his steel hard grip.
"Time to die, 'bladerunner'."
--------------Episode 2:2, Chinese Sector, the night before
I moved my few things from the small Rent-a-Room in 'my' part of town and re-installed in one of Tyrell Corporation's apartments downtown, Chinese sector.
It was as grey and as boringly clean as the rest of the block. The whole damn city was buzzing with life, scents, noises, vehicles, people, and animals, it was hell any day, but I liked it, it was a charming hell. Here, though, the corporation had managed to create a dead cold atmosphere in the whole block they'd built for employees. 'For peace in mind'… peace, my ass. If you stopped toying with new life forms, then maybe there'd be some peace.
Took me two days before I tracked the two Nexus 6-models down. I'd gotten rusty during my absence. When I finally found out, it was bloody obvious; they were residing at J. F. Sebastian's, a crippled man, a genius who did genetic engineering for Tyrell.
Of course, when I found them, they were already on their way to Tyrell's.
I watched them ride the elevator up on the outside of the gigantic Tyrell Corporation complex. Sebastian looked like a midget between the two blond giants, one lean, clearly female, and one broad, muscular, very male form. I don't know how they managed to get Tyrell to let them in, but as I saw the cold light in the small glass box shine on Roy Batty's white hair when they shot up along the exterior of the building, I shuddered.
This won't end well.
The son-of-a-bitch guard up front refused to understand what I could possibly want with Eldon Tyrell at eleven p.m. It didn't help that I flashed him my card and yelled at him. His instructions were crystal clear; Mr Tyrell was not to be disturbed. Obviously he was involved in a game of chess with a friend.
"Friend," I muttered through clenched teeth as I started to shortcut the sector alarm for the closest route to the lifts. "Everything, EVERYTHING, I have to fuckin' do myself!"
I disconnected a small part of the electrical field, by-passing the current, then I squeezed under it. Running towards the nearest entrance, I unsecured my weapon; this could get messy. Guards, replicants, dogs, the kind of monster didn't matter if it stood between them or me. Picking the lock to the door was relatively easy, and disconnecting the alarm was a piece of cake, I had installed the same ones for fuck's sake.
'Nother job, 'nother time... Easier times...
I took the elevator that was still at ground level and pressed at the only button. Tyrell's floor. Praying I wouldn't be too late, I glanced up at the other cage. It was still there, hovering high above me in the night air, unmoving. The speed with which I was propelled upwards sucked my stomach right down to my fucking toes. As I slowed down, I was starting to get a glimpse of Tyrell's place. Fancy. Four forms, one looked like it was going to kiss the other, palms on each side of the other's head, like a caress.
The smaller of the two started to sink to the floor. Tyrell. The other small shape, which I now was close enough to identify as Sebastian, started backing in my direction. I glanced at the display indicating the level. Fuckin' MOVE! My elevator had almost come to a full stop when Sebastian ran into the glass cage next to me. I slammed my fists at the doors that still wouldn't open. I could only watch as the male replicant slowly advanced on him and then, with a mercifully quick snap, separated Sebastian's head from his neck.
Nausea surged through me, but instead of throwing up, I stared, transfixed, as their lift started moving downwards. For an endless moment, Roy Batty's amazingly crystal blue eyes met mine, and his lips curled into a smile that would've looked friendly during any other circumstances.
My heart stilled in my chest from the intensity with which the killer studied me. I felt like I was a new kind of animal to him.
Then they descended fast and I lost sight of them. The doors opened with a silent whisper and I caught a glimpse of Eldon Tyrell, or what was left of the man. Brain matter and blood covered the carpet; his head looked like it had imploded.
I wasn't known to be sensitive, but I vomited all over my boots.
--------------Episode 3:1, Sebastian's building, the final hour
"Time to die," he laughs behind me, his sharp voice pierces through my head. The hair at the back of my neck stands straight up in fear.
I try to tear away from his grip and end up losing significant strands of hair in the struggle. I hear him breathe frighteningly close behind the wall and I do the only possible, I fire my gun right next to my ear, aiming for his forearm.
Screaming as the sonic boom trash my eardrum, I am unable to hear him. I stumble away from the wall; his hand has disappeared. With my gun raised, I peek around the door opening, waiting to see the wounded replicant, and find nothing. Not even blood.
I massage my shoulder with my gun-hand. His grip almost crushed the bone and I feel the swelling grow under my fingers. Blood is seeping from my left ear, and I wipe the sticky substance off my neck.
What the fuck? Not even a bloodstain? Where did he go?
Sneaking deeper into the dark, damp recesses of the building, I search for my nemesis, my last mission, the only remaining killer.
'They slaughtered twenty three people onboard that shuttle, these are no newbies we're lookin' for.' Bryant's cruel statement rings in my head, almost louder than the horrible tinnitus I've acquired after the shot.
One clear shot. Just one. He's not immortal.
Suddenly, I'm violently slammed against the opposite wall. My gun propels away along the floor. I bite my tongue as my head bounce against the hard surface and spit blood. A tooth feels loose, but I have no time to investigate it because Roy Batty is on me again in an instant.
He grips my throat and lifts me until my feet dangles above the floor. Vivid images from Tyrell's place surge through my head, and I know this will soon be over. I swallow hard and try to take comfort in knowing that in the end there's only death.
That it'll be fast.
In fact, it's all I can hope: that I've pissed him off enough for it to be over quickly.
"Little doll, little doll, so traitorous, so sweet. Soon so DEAD!" He cocks his head and stares at me with his eerie eyes. Then he smiles. His light voice plays with the words, as if he revels in the mere pleasure of speaking.
I squirm and jerk in his grip, slamming my fists into his unyielding body. He doesn't even flinch, instead his smile grows wider.
As my eyes roll back and I feel darkness begin to creep into the corners of my consciousness, he leans closer, frowning, and look at me like I'm some strange creature. "Don't you wanna play with me any more? Where's the fun in that?"
I sag along the wall as he releases me, he follows me down, his eyes roaming my face and his hands begin to slide down my chest, following the curve of my breasts. I don't feel anything this time. Only that I am very close to death. I choke and cough, blinking to erase the tears that threaten to fall. Not because I'm sad, mind you, and not because I'm afraid, even though I am, but because of the pain in my throat as I cough and try to speak.
I know exactly where it lies. I don't have to look. As Roy raises a hand to catch one of my tears, I burst up with all my remaining power and go for the gun. It's in my hand within a moment.
I roll on the floor and come up on my back.
"Fuck you," I say, and pull the trigger.