The Ethics Of Hiring Someone Who Just Tried To Rob You

When Norik awakens, he doesn’t initially realise that the
building is being broken into.

He’s a light sleeper (a side-effect of a childhood’s worth
of training) and he often wakes up in the middle of the night. Sometimes, he’ll
just relax in silence and the dark by himself. Other times, someone else will
be up because they can’t sleep either – most of the time, it’s either Rose or
Jacen. (She gets nightmares, and he keeps staying up late to work.) He’s also
hung out a few times with Dante, who’s been awake because Raelyn, the other
consciousness in his head, is bouncing around over something and won’t let him
sleep. He tries not to think to hard about he he’d absolutely abhor having a
voice in his head.

This time, when he wakes, he silently yawns and waits for
his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There’s a kind of scratching noise coming
from the window, but in his lenience, he assumes that it’s either the wind, a
lost bird, or someone – either drunk or in dire straits – trying to see if
there’s anyone in the building. If it’s the first two, whatever. If it’s the
third, he’ll deal with it. He rolls his neck around his shoulders, feeling a
satisfying *click* as it tilts it, and prepares to get up from the sofa
he’d been sleeping on so that he can check what’s actually going on. Before he
can, however, he hears a cracking noise, and then he hears the window slide
open.

Instantly, he’s back down again. It’s unlikely that someone
would break into this room if they knew he was there, so it’s odds-on he’s got
the element of surprise on his side. Feeling around blindly in the dark, his
hand eventually finds and clenches the hilt of one of his swords, resting on
the floor by where he was sleeping. Perfect.

He waits for a couple of moments longer, and then he hears
it. The window slides a little more, and then there are scuffing noises and
light but audible footsteps on the carpet as someone slips through the window
and into the building. Oddly enough, the intruder is accompanied by a soft
mechanical whirring.

Why exactly someone wants to break into the Pandemonium’s
Bane office, Norik isn’t sure. It’s not a bank or the capital building of some
tech conglomerate, it’s a random government building with a couple of scorch
marks on the walls. Still – he should be able to get whatever info he wants out
of this person once he takes them in. Still clenching his sword, he listens to
the footsteps as they slowly, hesitantly (the intruder doesn’t know the layout)
traverse the room. At one point, he hears a dull thud, followed by a through-clenched-teeth
hiss. Self-control means he doesn’t snicker out loud and give his position
away.

Eventually, the person finds the common room’s doorway, and
steps out into the hallway. Norik silently stands up, sword in hand, and begins
to follow. A few hasty steps, and he’s by the doorway; from there, he presses
himself into the wall and listens. The footsteps are descending down the hall.
Maybe towards the elevator, he doesn’t know. Either way, now rankles as a good
time to strike.

Darting through the door and out into the hallway, he
unsheathes his sword and resists the instinct to just attack right away.
Instead, he takes some steps forward and calls out:

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

The invader wheels around. “Oh, *shoot*.” Norik hears
them say. Their voice sounds harsh, like they haven’t used it for a while.
“What-” They fumble with something. Norik lunges. His sword knocks the object
out of their hand and into the hallway. Bringing it back around, he points it
at the person’s throat, which he can just about make out in the darkness.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” They say, but Norik doesn’t intend to
humour them.

“You’re coming with me.” He says.

“Yeah, sure, okay, that’s fair.” The intruder says. “Uh- any
chance you could move that thing away from my neck?”

Slowly, cautiously, Norik moves the sword slightly
downwards, while with his other hand reaching for the lights. After a moment’s
blind groping, he finds the light switch, and flicks it on. Wincing in the
sudden bright lights, he takes a moment to observe the intruder – they look to
be a woman, clad in dark clothes, short curly hair, what look to be bits of
metal over their trousers – before they – she – rears back with a shriek.

“I shit on god!” She exclaims, throwing her arms in front of
her face. “Why are you *naked*?”

“I sleep in the nude.” Norik, fully aware of his sleeping
habits, is unperturbed. It’s not as though he planned for such an encounter,
but the truth is, if this intruder is flustered and disorientated by him not
wearing anything, he’s not going to complain about it.

The intruder turns around, facing the elevator. Norik leans
forward cautiously, sword still in hand, but then she raises her hands back
above her head.

“I- ah, god above. I’m still surrendering.” She clarifies.
“You still have the sword. But-”

“But you’d rather not see me like this if you can help it.”
Norik finishes. “That’s understandable.” And it is. Not only are a lot of
people bothered by the sight of naked people, but Norik is littered with scars
that he knows aren’t exactly slightly. “I tell you what, give me a moment.” He
offers, because it’s not as though he’s a total monster. “Let me get a friend
in here to keep an eye on you while I get changed, if that’ll make you more
comfortable.”

“I’d appreciate that.” The intruder fidgets, clearly
nervous. “You seem unbothered. And also decently accommodating, considering I’m
the one who broke into your… what is this, a house or an office?”

“Both.” Norik answers – that’s the most accurate answer, in
his eyes. “And hey, you’re not going anywhere. I’ve got time.”

“You sound so sure.” The invader points out in a voice that
immediately has Norik on edge. What is she implying-?

Turning his head, he quickly calls in the direction of the
common room. “Arise, bean boy.” He calls – the code that he knows will
forcefully activate Max’s subroutines and rouse him from the ‘sleep-mode’ he
sometimes descends into.

“What?” Asks the intruder, sounding baffled. Norik can’t
blame her. Apparently, the code is like that because it was Gaia’s suggestion,
and no-one told her no in time. Max hadn’t told her no, apparently.

“You’ll see.” Norik assures her, listening out for the
whirring sound of Max waking up. Sure enough, a couple of moments later, Max
walks out of the room and into the hallway. He’s doing something with one of
his eyes – Norik can’t tell what.

“What’s the situation?” Max asks, coming to a stop beside
Norik and letting his hands drop. His eye isn’t in his socket.

“What happened to your eye?” Norik asks, answering his
question with a question. It’s not particularly polite of him, but they’re not
particularly pressed for time and he’s curious.

“It’s out for maintenance.” Max says. “Something’s wrong
with the circuitry, and it keeps playing images upside-down.” He peers past
Norik and at the intruder. “What’s this?”

“That’s what I want to find out.” Norik tells him, before
handing him the sword. “Watch her for a moment, will you? I’m gonna, uh, call
Dante and put some trousers on. Maybe not in that order.”

“You know I’m not as proficient with a sword as you.” Max
complains. Norik doesn’t say anything, but it annoys him, because their
intruder is very much in earshot and he doesn’t want any reason for her to
attempt an escape while he’s not there.

“No-one is.” Norik points out, before realising that that’s
not entirely true. “I mean, except for Plue.”

Max nods. “She could absolutely wipe the floor with you in a
swordfight.”

“She *has*.” Norik affirms, rubbing the back of his
neck at the memory. It had been during a training match five months previously;
Norik had stepped into the ring with no idea just how much more skilled the
Bulwark’s Supreme Commander had become in the years since their first meeting.
She’d defeated him in three strikes, and his pride still stung. “Just- just
make sure nothing stupid happens while I’m gone.”

Max shrugs. He’s very laid-back, but Norik supposes that
that has something to do with him being a robot. Nothing seems to phase him. “I
will make no such promises.” He declares.

“Fair enough.” Norik knows that in their line of work,
something stupid’s always happening.

“Yeah, no promises.” Butts in the intruder from in front of
them. “Don’t want to let his guard down or anything.”

Norik and Max exchange a glance, and then Max pokes the
intruder in the back with the sword.

“Ow!” She hisses. “Okay, shit, point taken.”

Of course, something stupid happens when Norik’s gone.

It doesn’t take very long either. All Max has time to
register is Norik ending the call with Dante (which he’d ultimately opted to do
*before* putting clothes on, and Max will continue to never understand
human oddities) when the woman who’s snuck into their base suddenly ducks down,
and then jumps upwards at an angle so that she’s essentially throwing herself
backwards at Max. Taken by surprise, Max drops the sword and falls over. The
woman, basically lying on top of him, moves to get up, but then recoils as
though she’s been stung by something and flops back over.

“Shit.” She gasps. “Not now.”

“That’s my line.” Max grabs the sword and jumps up, pointing
at the still lying-down woman. “Dare I ask what you were trying to do?”

“It was-” The woman hisses through her teeth. “It was a
desperate gambit. Leave me alone.”

“Well, it’s failed.” Max informs her, perhaps unnecessarily.

She snorts without any genuine humour. “Clearly.”

Max tilts his head at her. “Are you going to keep lying
there?”

The woman takes a quivering breath, and it is Max’s first
clue that something else may be going on. Still holding the sword, he edges
closer. She makes no further move against him. He moves closer. She looks
contorted – head and back arched, she’s clenching her jaw and her muscles are
tense. As he watches, she closes her eyes and breathes quickly and heavily through
her nose. Max reaches out a hand, but she gasps:

“No!”

Max hesitates.

“It’ll pass.” The woman says, although she doesn’t sound
very confident. “It just…” She sighs. “It happens, sometimes.” She turns to face
him, and then blanches. “What the hell is up with your eye?”

“My eye?” Max echoes, running his fingers over his face. Oh.
Right. His eye is out. In its place are random bits of metal and circuitry. It probably
looks weird. “I’m fixing it.”

“Fixing it.” She echoes. “Right. Okay.” And lies back down
again, muttering something about how this night is too weird for her to want to
deal with.

Of course, it’s at that moment that Norik returns. Thankfully,
he’s now wearing shorts and a t-shirt.

“What did you even do?” He asks, and Max think’s it’s both
unfortunate and hypocritical that Norik of all people is asking him that, but
he doesn’t say anything because he can tell it’s a fleeting thought and also he
doesn’t want to risk discourse at a time like this.

“Nothing.” Max says. He immediately recognises it’s the
wrong thing to say (it sounds too much like a denial) but Norik doesn’t press
him for details, instead slowly approaching and looking over their visitor.

“Interesting.” He says out loud. Max follows his gaze, and
realises that their visitor is wearing, over grimy dark trousers, a pair of
mechanical leg braces. He has to concur with Norik.

The woman turns her head to glare at the pair of them.

“Hey.” She spits. “If the pair of you could *not* gawk
at me like I’m a zoo animal, I’d appreciate it.”

“You broke in *here*.” Norik points out, not unfairly.
“I’d say we can gawk as much as we like.”

The woman doesn’t seem to have an answer to that; instead,
she groans and leans back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Her
breathing evens out. Max analyses her facial muscles. She looks less tense now,
but even as he watches her expression shifts into one it takes him a moment to
identify: resolution. She looks like a condemned woman making peace with the
gallows.

Norik raps Max on the shoulder, and Max turns around. That’s
something that he’s always appreciated about Norik – he’s never been afraid or
hesitant to make physical contact, even with the knowledge that Max is a robot.
A lot of people hesitate just because they’re not sure what they’re going to
make contact with, because flesh and muscle and bone is familiar but metal and synthskin
and wiring are not. Max understands, and doesn’t fault them, but he won’t deny
that Norik’s lack of trepidation is. Refreshing is probably the best word for
it.

“The Big D’s on his way.” Norik tells him, in reference to
Dante. Max nods.

This should be interesting.

Dante has no idea what to make of this. Like, actually. He’s
used to his team being weird, and he’s decently weird himself. But this is
unfamiliar person – an unfamiliar variable. Not to mention, he’s super cranky
and tired, and Raelyn’s screaming bloody murder in his ear, and he’s not as
inclined to disagree with her as he’d normally be.

“So.” Dante says, leaning on the table and staring at their
intruder. He doesn’t go for the dramatic interrogation palm slam, not yet. No
point in ramping things up too quickly. “Why’d you do it? Break in?”

“You want the honest answer?” She responds, looking up at
him. There’s a glint in her eyes that reminds him of him, although maybe he’s
just being fanciful. “It was a mistake.”

“You’re probably right.” Norik butts in from the doorway.
He’s been keen to handle the interrogation, citing his training, but Dante
knows that Norik can get… pretty intense. And this isn’t another Twelve of
Infinite Sight incident – as far as he can tell, they can afford to not go full
inquisition straight away. “Breaking and entering…” he tuts, sarcastically.
“Considering I was in when it happened, that could be a good couple of years’
jail time right there.”

Okay, apparently Norik has appointed himself bad cop without
telling anyone. Dante coughs loudly and conspicuously, at Norik – who rolls his
eyes in response.

**I remember you reading something about how breaking and**
entering is considered a crime against person as well as property***,***
Raelyn chimes in from inside his mind. **You should just throw her in the**
basement. Shut the door and check on her… say, once a year?

*Pretty sure she’d die in there after a week*, Dante
fires back. Raelyn’s silence indicates that she doesn’t give two hoots whether
this person lives or not.

In the meantime, their interrogatee looks equally
unimpressed with Norik’s interjection. “No,” she drones, “I mean, it was a
‘mistake’ in that I got the wrong building. I have no idea what this place is.”
she looks at the meeting room with an undiscernible look on her face. It’d
probably have looked more intimidating, only Gaia had covered it with a fresh
batch of stickers the other day. “I thought I was breaking into a hospital.”

“Hospital?” Norik echoes, clearly sceptical. “Do we look
like a hospital?”

“Not from the inside!” The woman says. “But hey, outside it
was dark, and the shape looked about right, and I figured I could get in and
check. If I was wrong, I’d be out easy. And I’m not fussy. A machine shop or
something would have been good, too.” She glowers at Norik. “What I did not
expect was to be confronted by a naked, sword-wielding maniac.”

“Few people do.” Dante agrees, nodding his head. “But
anyways – why?”

“Hmm?” She eyes him, like she’s trying to figure out what
he’s saying.

“Why a hospital?” Dante presses. “Not for money, surely.”

**The main reason to break into a hospital would probably**
be to kill the patients**, Raelyn reasons.** I mean, not saying I *have*,
but if I were to do that, that’d be why. **Dante does his best to ignore her.**

“Money? Hah!” The woman laughs. “Money would be sweet. But
no.” She leans back in her chair, and gestures to her physique. At first, Dante
isn’t sure what she’s supposed to be indicating to, but then she speaks again.
“I have chronic pain. At least, I *think* I do. I’ve been looking up treatments, but they’re, ah… they’re well
out of my price range.”

“Was stealing your
first thought?” Dante asks. He isn’t trying to be judgemental, but theft still
seems drastic. As far as he’s aware, there are other paths to get treatment,
such as non-profits or crowdfunding. And verified prescriptions make drugs
readily available, or something. (He hasn’t got any experience with persistent
medical conditions, so he doesn’t really know this stuff.) However, it seems to
be the wrong thing to say. The intruder’s eyes narrow.

“You listen to me.”
She says. “I did not come as far as I have to get stuck behind a paywall.”

“What, you can’t
apply for anything?” Norik interjects. He’s suspicious; Dante doesn’t
necessarily agree, but hey, part of why they make a good team is because of
their differing worldviews. Dante tries his best to see the good in people (and
hey, if he can make friends with *Raelyn*, he can make friends with anyone). Norik
is… a little more jaded.

“…Not legally.” The
woman admits. “I am not a citizen. I have no rights and no identification. I
arrived here with… pretty much nothing.”

“You’re a refugee?”
Asks Dante. The revelation piques his interest – after all, he was one too.

It’s clear that the
woman doesn’t appreciate the term, but she doesn’t deny it either.

“Where’d you arrive
from?” Asks Dante, mind already working. Perhaps there are other members of her
community he can reunite her with, or maybe-

“Iovar.” She says.
“I came from the town of Iovar.”

Dante and Norik
exchange a glance. For his part, Dante remembers seeing Iovar in the news – a
walled city being encircled by the Isfet in a single night, and slowly
withering away until the Isfet managed to get in and kill everyone there. Plue
had tried to send forces out to perform an evacuation, but her generals had
voted her down, and it had been nasty to watch happen in real-time. The entire
town had been thought dead.

“How did you get
away?” Norik steps forward, accusation rife in his tone. “How did you survive?”

“Norik.” Dante
cautions, because the last thing he needs is for this to get more intense, but
he isn’t prepared for the woman’s reply.

“I flew.”

Norik and Dante
stare at her. She tilts her chin up a little, clearly enjoying the attention.
For a moment, nobody speaks.

**How’d she do**
THAT? **Raelyn asks, and**
Dante agrees.

“How’d you do
that?” He asks. Then, as he has the idea: “Are you a savant?”

“A what?” The woman
looks confused. “No, I- no. I built,” she stresses the word as if accommodating
for people who don’t understand what it means, “mechanical wings, and I flew
out.”

“Uh-huh.” Norik
sounds sceptical, but Dante has no reason to doubt her. Her leg braces look
haphazard, as though someone threw them together out of scrap. She mentioned
earlier that she’d have been happy to have found a machine shop to rob, instead
of a place to get painkillers.

She’s still got
that spark in her eye.

“Interesting.”
Dante says out loud. Off to his side he sees Norik turn to eye him.

“What are you
thinking?” He asks, with a touch of hesitation in his voice like he’s afraid to
hear the answer. It’s nothing new to Dante.

“I’m thinking…”
Dante turns to face Norik directly. “That Jacen’s been complaining about how
Max is the only other person on our team with any mechanical knowledge for a
while now.”

The woman looks
confused, but Norik catches on immediately.

“Oh, no.” He says.
“Dante, no.”

“Think about it.”
Dante emphasises. “It could solve a lot of problems on both of our ends.” He
pointedly glances at the woman, before switching his attention back to Norik.
“Eh?” He indicates. “Eh?”

**I *love* this idea.** Raelyn
interjects. Dante feels simultaneously buoyed and concerned by this
endorsement.

“Dante.” Norik is
clearly trying to be serious about this, so Dante focuses on him. “You can’t
just… take in strays like this!” He lowers his voice. “If you offer everyone
with a sob story a job, you’re gonna have far too many people on your hands.
Besides, you know Plue isn’t going to like this. She’s having enough trouble
justifying us as is; you’d just be making problems for her.”

Dante winces. It’s
not an invalid point. Pandemonium’s Bane’s existence has always been a point of
contention between Plue and a lot of the people who are eager to remove her
from her position as Supreme Commander. This… probably wouldn’t help.

And yet…

“Pandemonium’s Bane
is kinda founded on the idea of giving weirdos and miscreants a home.” He
points out. “Rose and Gaia are both orphans we picked up along the way, Andy
dropped out of the military and also every other job he’s held, and Shadow is…
Shadow.” (There is also, though he doesn’t bring her up, the fact that they
also gave a job to ‘Alia’, the alternate-universe version of Plue. Once you
have an employee who was your girlfriend from a universe where you died, you
tend to stop really scrutinising any other potential hires.) “Hell – when we
decided to give you a job here,” he brings up, trying to ignore the way Norik
flinches at the words – he’s not trying to guilt trip Norik, but it’s an apt
comparison – “you had a horrendous reputation and no other real options.”

“Noted.” Norik purses
his lips, but then sighs, misgivings being shoved aside. “Although I will point
out that all of those instances were at least a *little* planned out.”

“Noted.” Dante replies. That’s a fair point – this is going
to be hell to explain and justify to the relevant people (specifically Plue).

 “If you’re sure you know what you’re doing.”
Norik cautions, indicating to the now very curious-looking woman, still sat
behind the desk.

“A helping hand at
the lowest point.” Dante remarks, turning back to their intruder. “I think
that’s what we’ve been about all along.”

He leans back on
the table. Examining this person in a new light. This woman is clearly
determined and resourceful. She also needs help.

“What’s your name?”
Dante asks.

“Esme.” The woman –
Esme – replies coolly, caution etched into her tone. She’s clearly not entirely
sure where this is going.

“Esme.” Repeats
Dante, doing his best to commit the name to memory. “Do you want a job?”

Esme still isn’t
quite sure what’s happening.

The phrases “long-term”
and “head role” and “job” fly through her mind as this guy speaks, and she
barely has any idea what he’s saying. Because there’s no way he’s giving her a
place to stay. There’s no way he’s offering her a job. There’s no way he’s
offering her enough salary to pay for any medication she needs as well as a
place to say. There’s no way all her problems are all getting solved with one
fell swoop.

Who does he think
he is?

“What am I, some
kind of pity case?” She snaps, cutting him off from… whatever he’s saying at
this point. She doesn’t even know. “A bead on your conscience? Ah, yes, give
the cripple girl a job so you can sleep better at night?” She glowers at him
from across the table they’re based on opposite sides of (she’s sitting, he’s
standing and leaning). “What do you want? My loyalty?” What’s his endgame? She
has every intention of finding out.

The man stares at
her, for a moment, as though she’s suddenly speaking, another language. Then,
he cringes.

“What? No. Ew!” He
shudders, and holds up his hands. “Look, I- I promise there’s no ulterior
motive here.” He sighs. “If you don’t want the job, I’ll refer you to some people
and… get you set up with a shelter, or on a pension, or something. I’m not
trying to strongarm you into accepting by being all “join us or go back on the
streets”. Promise.”

“You patronizing
bastard!” She hisses. “What, you gotta saviour complex or something?”

“No, I-” The man
begins, but she cuts him off.

“Is it for personal
satisfaction?” She asks. “It just gives you the warm fuzzies inside to see help
poor people like me who can’t help themselves? Because newsflash, asshole!” She
stands up. “I’ve made it this far!”

The man eyes her. He
gives no immediate reply, instead closing his eyes and exhaling deeply. Esme
taps the table, waiting for him to reply.

“I don’t doubt your
ability to take care of yourself.” He eventually says. “And I’m sorry if I gave
you that impression. But just because you can make it on your own doesn’t mean
that you should have to. And I know how tough it can be to find your footing
after you’ve lost your whole world.”

Esme ignores the
twinge in her chest that his words create.

“Yeah, I hate to
break it to you, but there’s thing called empathy.” The other man interjects
from where he’s leaning, by the door to the small room that the three of them
have bundled themselves into. “Sometimes, people don’t actually have shitty
ulterior motives for doing seemingly nice things.”

This time, Esme can’t
resist scoffing. How old is this guy?

The first man fixes
door guy with a look before turning back to Esme.

“Like I said,” he
continues, “the job isn’t compulsory. But could you at least let us help you in
some way? Even if all you need is that medicine we were talking about.” He
scratches his chin. “We MUST be able to get a prescription somehow…”

“Maybe Plue can
just okay something for us.” Door guy suggests, but the man shakes his head.

“Pretty sure that’s
nepotism.” He says. “But – whatever. We can cross that bridge if we can get to
it.”

“Why?” Esme says
again. The man levels his gaze at her.

“Why not?” He
challenges.

Esme… pauses. She doesn’t
have an immediate answer to that.

“For what it’s
worth,” the man adds, “we really *do* need an in-house engineer. We do a lot of
work with experimental equipment, and the electronics in this base seem to be
always breaking. I think the guys we already have on the job are at the ends of
their respective ropes; I’m sure they’d appreciate a helping hand.” He leans
back in his chair, putting his arms behind his head, still keeping his eyes on
her. “If you don’t like the idea of us helping you, maybe you’d prefer thinking
of it as you helping us?”

Esme hums. “So,”
she ventures, “that’s your ulterior motive? You need a mechanic?”

The two men, for
some reason, exchange an exasperated glance.

“Sure.” Deadpans
the guy by the door. “You got us. We actually don’t give a damn about other
people. We just want someone convenient to fix the radiator.”

Esme may not
understand these people yet, but she still recognises sarcasm when she hears
it.

“Just…” The first
man says, quietly. “Think about it, you know? You don’t have to take the job –
I can’t stress enough, it’s in no way obligatory – but we’d like to help you
either way.”

“You sound sure I’ll
take it.” She challenges, still on the defensive. Still not sure how to really
handle this whole situation, if she’s being honest with herself.

“Because you’re not
an idiot.” Door guy butts in. “You know it’ll be more practical to get a
pension or something then to just steal whatever you need. If you’d been caught
breaking into any other building, you’d probably be in a jail cell right now. Or
dead, if the place had been classified enough.” He eyes her sceptically. “Unless
your ego’s too big for you to see sense.”

“Norik.” The first
man’s voice is tired. “You’re not helping.”

Door guy (Norik?)
spreads his arms out helplessly. “I’m just saying.” He says. The first man
turns back to her.

“You can sleep here
for tonight, if you want.” He offers.

Esme considers the
offer. It’d be convenient, and probably better then that damn street corner.
But…

“I have some stuff.”
She admits. “I didn’t bring it with me. It’s-”

“What’s the address?”
The man inexplicably perks up.

“Um…” Taken aback,
Esme stumbles over her words. “I don’t know off the top of my head. I think it
was… three? Streets away? You know the one with the red building on the right
corner?”

“Oh, yeah, I know
that one!” He beams. “Don’t worry. I’ll get your stuff – Norik can show you to
a room.”

“Wha- hey!” Esme
stands up, feeling indignant all over again. Why does this guy keep assuming
that she can’t do anything for herself? “Just because I’m in a brace doesn’t
mean I can’t walk a little way by myself!”

“Oh, no, it’s not
that!” The man says. “I just- I’m faster. Trust me.”

Norik, from his
place at the door, sighs. “Dante-”

The man steps away
from the light of the room, and into a shadowy corner. “I’ll be back in a few.”
He says, before *melting into the*
shadow and disappearing*.*

Esme boggles. The
other man just rubs the bridge of his nose.

Sleeping in an actual
bed is surreal enough, but the next morning, the guy – Dante – leads her from
her room (where, she notices, her meagre belongings have been dumped in a
corner) into what looks like a workshop. It’s more put-together then her
machine shop was back home, and some more obvious health and safety
precautions, but even without examining it too closely she can see how
high-tech it all is. Already inside the room are two other people – one she
doesn’t recognise, with orange hair and glasses, but the other-

“Robot eye guy!”
She says out loud. The man looks up at her, and then waves. Both of his eyes
are in their sockets today.

“Hello!” He greets,
giving her a smile that doesn’t quite seem natural. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough.” She
remarks, which is probably generous. The bed she’d slept on last night had been
just about the softest thing she’d ever rested on, and after weeks of sleeping
on rough pavements and street corners, it had taken a while to actually adapt.

“You know, just
call him ‘robot man’.” The ginger man interjects, looking at her with a sceptical
glint in his eye. Esme is unperturbed – she’s dealt with much worse over the
years – but she still is sure to remain cautious. “He’s not a weird guy with an
eye prosthetic, he’s just an actual robot.”

Dante fixes ginger
with a pointed look, and the man shrugs. “If she’s going to work here, she
should know.”

Esme barely pays
the interaction any mind – now she’s staring at robot eye man. “You’re kidding.”
She breathes.

“Not in the
slightest.” He replies, before turning around and pulling his shirt up his
back. There, barely visible on his skin, is what looks like a seam. “That’s the
tab for the synthetic skin we built for me.” He explains. “Under there’s the
actual nuts and bolts.” He turns back to face her and shrugs. “Apparently, I’m
way more human than any other robot people have made so far. We figured it was more
convenient to pass me off as a human then to advertise what I really am.”

“To think,” ginger
interjects, “all this time people have been worried about smart AI, and here
you are. Stuck with this group of weirdos.”

“It’s the perfect
cover.” There is humour and satisfaction in the robot’s voice.

Part of Esme still
isn’t entirely convinced, but at the same time, this place is weird enough that
it really *would* fit. Besides, the more she looks, the more
he can see it. The slight oddness in his facial expressions, the unnatural
smoothness of his skin, the eye thing… She turns back to Dante, who’s staring
at her with a smug impression.

“This’ll be your
team. I mean – if you take the job.” He says, instead of waiting for her to ask
any questions. “You’ve already met Max – he’s been our resident hardware expert
so far. I suspect that *being* hardware has helped in that regard.”

“That is has, sir.”
The robot – Max – offers.

“And Jacen,”
continues Dante, “is our software guy. He’s the one who set up all the computers
and stuff when we first moved in here.”

“Not to mention, I’m
the one who keeps having to FIX them.” Jacen points out in a surly voice, sounding
a bit like a petulant teenager. “I thought we agreed that Gaia wouldn’t be allowed
to use any more computers?”

“Oh, actually,” Dante
rubs the back of his head, “that last one was me. Well, Raelyn, but also me.
There was-”

She sees Jacen hold
up a hand. “I don’t want to know.” He says. Dante stops talking. Jacen turns to
her. “So. You’re…”

It’s not quite a
test, but it’s clear that this Jacen guy seems on edge at the prospect of a new
colleague. (To be fair, Esme herself is still wrapping her head around it. It’ll
probably hit her at some point.)

“Esme Moore.” She tells
them. “I constructed my own leg braces when I was a child, I’ve spent years
running a machine shop, and my most recent mechanical feat was flying out of my
hometown on wings that I built myself.” She folds her arms defiantly. “I’m the
greatest god damn engineer you’ve ever met.”

No-one immediately
replies, presumably processing her claim to fame. Then, Jacen sighs.

“Great.” He says
out loud. “Another tough-talking blowhard.” Esme smarts at the words, but grits
her teeth and prepares to fight her corner, because she’s *used* to this- but then she sees that he’s holding out a hand for her to
shake. After a moment’s surprised hesitation, she leans forward and shakes it.

“You’ll fit right
in, here.” He finishes. He sounds so neutral – she isn’t sure how to respond.

“Welcome!” Max
offers, leaning over Jacen’s shoulder. “You get used to Jacen. He’s brusque,
but he means well.”

“And Max,” Jacen
responds without missing a beat, “is still learning the finer points of blending
in with us humans. But he’s a loyal friend.” The latter phrase is said as an
afterthought, but Esme can tell that Jacen means it.

Suddenly, she isn’t
sure what to feel. These people – people she’s just met – are already so much
more accommodating and welcoming than anyone she’s ever met before. It’s a low
bar, and it’s obvious. It gives her complete whiplash. They can’t be *real* about all this.

Ah, so it’s hitting
her now.

She turns back to
Dante in a tizzy, all pride gone. (Well, it DOES go before fall, apparently.) She
can hear the other men mutter something, and then their footsteps as they move
to another part of the room.

“Are you sure about
this?” She asks him, trying to not let any desperation into her voice.

He tilts his head. “’this’?”

“You don’t know me.”
She points out. “I don’t know you. And you’re an actual…” the word ‘family’ is
on the tip of her tongue, but she switches it out at the last moment, “…team,
and I’m just some random person. And we met because I broke into your building.
And I…” She isn’t sure how to say it, but what if… what if she’s wrong? If she’s
*not* the greatest engineer they’ve ever met? What does she have to offer,
then? She’s GOOD, but mechanics is all she knows. Without it, she’s just a girl
with chronic pain and no working legs. What happens if they decide they don’t
want her? This kind of offer, this opportunity – it *can’t* be unconditional. It’s
not how things work.

Beyond even *that*, how can she explain how unfathomably strange this feels to her? Naked
people with swords was the sort of weird she was okay with learning how to deal
with. But this… this sense of earnestness, of looking at people and seeing them
as people instead of just dismissing them out of hand? Of having priorities in
life beyond yourself?

Topaz belongs here.
Topaz would have been overjoyed to meet people like her, with an ounce of
compassion their bones. But Esme is a born-and-raised self-sufficient jackass,
and she’s worried that this isn’t real, and that she’s going to screw up what
these people have just by being here. And she just has no idea what to feel.

“Do you really
think I could belong here?” She asks. “Like… long-term?”

She isn’t sure what
she’s expecting, but Dante laughing wouldn’t have been her first guess.

“Honestly? I haven’t
the foggiest how this’ll turn out.” He admits, surprising her. “But I have
faith that you’ll fit in, in your own time. And that you don’t turn out to have
just been planning on robbing us all along. And that this all doesn’t fall apart
around us.” He shrugs. “You never know these things where you start out, I
think. It’s all about just… blind faith and trust and hoping that people can be
good enough for long enough for something to work.”

“Blind faith.” Esme
echoes. It’s not a comfortable sentiment, for her. She’s used to working with
certainty, or at least some solid mental blueprints. Even when she’d been
building her wings, she’d known what she’d had in mind. Something like this… it’s
totally unfamiliar.

Especially when
that faith is supposed to be in people’s innate goodness, or whatever. She can’t
say she has much experience with that.

But then, she thinks
of Topaz.

Topaz, the sister
that did her best to help her and be kind even when the rest of the household
had turned against Esme so viciously – essentially keeping her alive,
especially once the other siblings had taken her braces. Who had never asked
for anything in return. Who had died saving a stranger’s life. She’d believed
in something, or had at least put stock in some ideal about kindness. Esme had
never taken it seriously, not really. But now, she can’t help but wonder. Maybe
this was what had been driving her sister, all that time. Blind faith in human
kindness.

It’s stupid, obviously.
Certainly, it didn’t do Topaz any good in the end. It’s unquantifiable, and incalculable,
and why would anyone ever rely on it? Give their life for it, even?

“Why, then?” She
wonders, out loud. “Why keep up hope, and why put your stock in kindness, when
everything seems so cruel?” And she looks at him – this man who doesn’t know
her, but is insisting that she let him solve her problems with no caveats – and
realises that she wants him to explain why he’s doing it, because if she were
in his position, there’s no way she would do the same.

Dante looks
curious, but he doesn’t ask. “I think,” he says instead, “that it’s because
everything seems cruel that people choose to be kind.” He pulls at the cuff of the
long coat he’s wearing. His eyebrows furrow over his eyes. “And I think it goes
beyond personal satisfaction. I think people see or experience that cruelty,
and decide that they want to help people in defiance of it. It’s like a proclamation
to the world, you know? A way of expressing that defiance that everyone feels
when the world just seems too oppressive. *You may beat me down every day,* these people say, *you may*
push me to my knees and grind my ambitions into the dirt. But I am going to
lift people up. *In spite of life –*
in challenge of it – people be kind. The world is hard to them, and they take
it as a challenge to do better.” He pulls hard enough at the cuff that a frayed
string snaps off. “And then, because of that empathy that they have, and that ability
to see themselves in everyone – by helping other people, they help themselves. By
being kind, they simultaneously heal the wounds of both parties.”

Esme stares. Dante’s
gaze lightens, and he drops the coat cuff. “Do unto others, exercise empathy…
you know the drill.” He shrugs, awkwardness suddenly evident in his frame. “At
least, that’s how I feel.” There is a bashful look on his face as he turns back
to face Esme. “You know what I mean?”

“Not really.” Esme
admits. “But… I think I understand.” She holds her hand out to Dante, who
stares at it like he’s not quite sure what she’s doing.

“Blind faith in
human kindness.” She thinks of Topaz again. “It seems to have gotten me this
far.”

Dante finally
grasps her hand, and shakes it.

“Welcome.” He says.
“And for what it’s worth – I really hope this works.”

Esme smiles.

“I think,” she
muses out loud, “it already has.”