Follow The Leader [Wolfe]

I can’t fight this feeling

I’m out of control

Wolfe had chosen to take the long way back to his apartment after getting off work tonight, on the grounds of getting himself more familiar with the ins and outs of the city he now lived in. It was an… interesting experience, he had decided. There were places and things he passed that felt somehow familiar, although he couldn’t place why, while much more felt entirely alien and strange. The name on that sign he could have sworn he somehow knew, while a building across the way seemed odd for how dilapidated it was.

And then of course there was the Red Light district. Although some aspects of the place were not entirely different from some of the things he had witnessed in his time thus far at Obsidian— mostly the drinking, and throbbing music here and there— it became clear quite quickly that this was not a place anyone felt the cyborg belonged. As one who couldn’t even hope to pass as human, at best Wolfe earned an odd from those who laid eyes on him, while others made no effort to mask their disdain or contempt. Neither were something he particularly enjoyed, so he took to slinking through the alleys shortly after entering the district.

This was where he crossed paths with an agitated-looking, younger man, although after a quick visual assessment, he proved to be of little interest to Wolfe for the moment. Turning away from the stranger, he kept walking, taking up an inner debate over whether or not to take to the rooftops as he went.

I can’t fight this feeling

I’m out of control

Suddenly, footsteps sounded at his back, neither timed to match his own, nor particularly quiet. He was being followed, and whoever it was wasn’t doing a very good job at being sneaky about it. Either he had a poorly skilled stalker, or whoever was at his back had purer intentions, then.

Though he did not slow his pace, Wolfe turned just enough to get a good look at whoever it was, and found the young man he had passed by earlier was now trailing after him. More than that, the stranger was staring at him quite intently. Already, the cyborg’s fingers twitched toward the folding sword hidden beneath his jacket, but for now he did not draw it. Despite his somewhat odd behavior, the stranger hadn’t done anything particularly threatening yet, and a couple stern lectures from Clarisse had seen to it that he would at least try not to immediately lash out over “nothing”.

However, the second his sensors detected something touching his shoulder, Wolfe reacted suddenly and aggressively. Spinning around, he would snap a hand out to try catching the offender by the wrist, while his other hand produced a short blade from a sheath hidden in his clothes and raise it threateningly toward the stranger’s throat. As expected, he found it was the black-and-white-haired man who had tried to grab him.

The blade edged a little closer. “Who are you?” Wolfe asked abruptly, his mechanical voice flat and empty as ever. “Why are you following me?”

I can’t fight this feeling

I’m out of control

Although he was not the best at reading people, it was easy enough to tell this man had not been thrown off all that much by his reaction. There was no fear there, no timid hesitation or sudden will to flee. Similarly, the other cyborg was not reacting defensively himself. No weapons appeared in his hands, no attempt to strike out before being injured himself was made… It was all very odd to Wolfe.

However, it wasn’t quite odd enough to get him to lower his blade just yet. His grip tightened on the other’s wrist as he spoke, asking not for mercy or release, but for information as to what “it” was made of. Wolfe stared, remaining silent while he looked between his arm and the hand pointing to it. He wanted to know what his arm was made of…? What an odd question.

“Metal,” Wolfe answered, thinking that that had been quite obvious. All of his body was made up of metal and circuitry, much like any other cyborg. His blade pressed a fraction closer while he took a moment to scan their surroundings. From what he could tell, the two of them were alone, so a distraction for ambush seemed unlikely… But mere curiosity seemed like a poor reason to approach a potentially dangerous stranger in a dark alley. “Why?”

Since his earlier question had yet to be answered, he repeated it. “Who are you?” His grip on the other’s wrist tightened considerably in an unspoken threat. “Answer me. Now.”

I can’t fight this feeling

I’m out of control

Perhaps this man just didn’t have any sense of personal safety. It would certainly explain why he was more focused on the hand holding his wrist than the weapon at his throat, and a serious lack of anything resembling fear or a healthy respect for the situation at hand. Instead he wanted to know what kind of metal— a response that only produced more questions. ‘What is wrong with you’, for instance.

“I don’t know,” he said instead, terse and sharp. They were getting off track… Or maybe there had never been one to begin with. Perhaps this strange stranger was just too curious for his own good, and nothing more. Wolfe’s grip loosened at the thought, just barely.

“Iriel,” the android repeated. It was more a statement than a question— a way to remember the name he’d just heard. After, he stood silently for a while longer, looking over this ‘Iriel’ intently. Then, slowly, he went on. “I’m going to let you go now. You—” he said, punctuating the word with a short jab of his blade, “— will keep your hands to yourself. Understood?”

Once he’d had some form of confirmation from the other cyborg, Wolfe would carefully release his arm, pulling the blade back as he did until it had been sheathed and hidden once more. The moments after, he would spend staring down at the young man until, at long last, he would speak again. “If I leave, are you going to keep following?”

I can’t fight this feeling

I’m out of control

At least he wasn’t the only one dissatisfied with the answers he was being given, but the reaction the cyborg had had to his name was unusual— like he wasn’t used to being addressed as such, or something. Wolfe didn’t pay it much mind though, aside from another mental note made. He wasn’t interested in learning this kid’s life story, or why he behaved the way he did. Just in getting him to go his own way, so he could continue on his.

Given the other’s silence, he was about to start walking away until the one word he hadn’t wanted to hear reached his sensors. Yes. Irritation spiked behind an empty visage. “Don’t follow me,” Wolfe replied shortly, still staring the younger man down. As much as he doubted it, maybe given how Iriel had responded to the first order he’d issued, he could expect similar results of a second. “Go home.” Or back the way he’d come, or into one of the clubs nearby. As long as it was away from him, Wolfe really didn’t care where Iriel decided to go.

Without waiting for much in the way of a response, Wolfe spun around and started walking again, picking up a somewhat quicker pace than the one he’d had previously. He’d spent long enough standing around here, and needed to get going so he could return home. There were cats that required food, and a few hours of much-needed recharging to attend to— both of which were currently far more important than dealing with the odd stranger at his back.

I can’t fight this feeling

I’m out of control

Wolfe had made it several steps away by the time Iriel addressed him aloud once more, but not yet far enough that he had even a slightly difficult time hearing him— mostly because the younger cyborg remained quite close at hand. Growing increasingly convinced that the only way to stop him from following would be to break one or more of his limbs, he stopped abruptly, turning just as suddenly to stare at the other. He was lost, he’d said. As far as he knew, that typically wasn’t a good thing, especially in this part of Dagos.

After what might well have been an eternity, Wolfe’s shoulders lowered a fraction. This was one of those situations where he’d be attacking for “nothing”, he was fairly certain, and lost was something he might be able to fix fairly easily. Maybe he’d even be left alone at last, once Iriel knew which way he had to go to reach whatever destination he needed to.

“Where do you need to go?” the hosted cyborg asked eventually, still staring almost motionlessly down at the individual before him. Already, he was going through potential sets of directions in his head— how to get to this district, or that street from where they stood currently. However, he wouldn’t say anything more out loud until Iriel had given his answer, unless he took a long time to reply, in which case Wolfe would add tersely, “Speak quickly.” Enough of his time had been wasted here as it was.

I can’t fight this feeling

I’m out of control

Were he capable of rolling his eyes, Wolfe would have done so now. Hard. “To Samuel” was not an address, or a recognizable place, or even a person who could be easily tracked down. However, as he lacked eyes that could roll, he settled for continuing to stare, arms crossing over his chest.

“I don’t know who that is,” the cyborg stated flatly, finding himself thoroughly unimpressed with Iriel’s bright idea of a location. He’d met drunks who were better able to come up with useful responses. But this was almost like dealing with a child, and a young one at that. One with no concept of where he was or where he needed to go…

Kind of like he had been himself, back when he’d first arrived in the city. That thought alone kept Wolfe from walking off again, and leaving the poor, witless Iriel to his own devices once more.

“Who is Samuel?” he asked, head tilting slightly to one side. “Where can we find this person?” Although he didn’t expect much in the way of results, perhaps at least the answer to the former would give him some clue as to how to locate the enigmatic Samuel.

While he waited for an answer, he took the time to quietly hope that this endeavor at least wouldn’t take the entire night to see through. Even if he’d had the patience for it, his remaining charge wasn’t going to last all that much longer.