Aaron cracks the door open enough to allow those rotting, grasping hands through, and when they begin ineffectually grabbing at him and pulling at his clothes, K has to consciously quell the impulse to move in to protect him. They have a plan and Aaron clearly knows what he's doing, acting now would likely only put them both at risk. And so he waits, anxiously, watching the practised way Aaron dispatches that first walker without hesitation. Judging by how easily the hammer penetrates the rotting mess of its skull, these creatures must be deceptively fragile. But he's no fool; he isn't going to underestimate the threat they pose.
The semi-darkness doesn't appear to hinder K in any way, nor the stark contrast between it and the bright flares of light that are filtering in. He takes in their new surroundings with a glance, noting what he assumes will be their ultimate exit, but his focus largely remains on the walkers and Aaron, still taking his cues from the other man. So far, so good.
"I'm sure," he confirms as his gaze falls on the pair of walkers, and he takes advantage of having time enough to really get a good look at them and size them up.
He couldn't have anticipated the way pity would twist in his gut at the sight of the creatures feebly struggling, straining to reach for them. He can tell they used to be human. Probably had their own families, friends, people they cared about and who cared about them. What an ignoble end to a life — being stripped of all dignity, of everything that made them a person, and reduced to a mindless base instinct to feed on living flesh. And how strange it is, feeling this sense of empathy for beings who, in life, may have likely held as little regard for him as the humans in his own world do. The humans who claim androids are incapable of experiencing genuine emotions...
Putting walkers down seems like a kindness, more than anything, and that thought is what makes him deviate from Aaron's advice, opting to use the hammer instead of crushing the walkers' skulls beneath his boot. It just seems — better, in a way that's difficult to define right now.
The strikes delivered from his own hammer are as neatly precise as he can manage while keeping the splatter to a minimum, without prolonging the final death process any more than it needs to be, and he obliges Aaron's warning by shielding his face with his free arm. It's enough. He remains mostly free of gore, and the walkers have ceased their terrible noises and struggling, lying still now. K rises from his crouch and stands unmoving for several moments, staring at the creatures, then finally lifts his widened eyes to Aaron's face and offers him a vaguely apologetic look, hoping he won't be angry. There's also a degree of wariness in the subtle way K's bracing himself, as though expecting to have to weather that anger. But it isn't personal. It's simply the result of being conditioned to expect being treated a certain way by humans, particularly when he's failed to satisfy them in any way.
Shaking off the clinging clumps and strings of gore from the hammer, he releases the breath he'd been holding with an inaudible sigh and looks down at himself. It's far from the first time he's extinguished a life, but... he's never done so of his own volition before. Death has only ever occurred while under direct orders, with the compulsion inherent in his programming leaving him no choice in the matter. A machine carrying out its duties. The experience of killing his first walkers has left him a bit off-kilter, but he doesn't want to dwell on it. Some fresh air would certainly be welcome right about now.
"I don't hear any others," he says, his voice seeming loud in the silence, and he uses the hammer to gesture toward the trio of walkers. "Are we going to leave them there?" Because he's willing to help arrange the corpses if need be.
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Date: 2020-10-14 08:07 am (UTC)The semi-darkness doesn't appear to hinder K in any way, nor the stark contrast between it and the bright flares of light that are filtering in. He takes in their new surroundings with a glance, noting what he assumes will be their ultimate exit, but his focus largely remains on the walkers and Aaron, still taking his cues from the other man. So far, so good.
"I'm sure," he confirms as his gaze falls on the pair of walkers, and he takes advantage of having time enough to really get a good look at them and size them up.
He couldn't have anticipated the way pity would twist in his gut at the sight of the creatures feebly struggling, straining to reach for them. He can tell they used to be human. Probably had their own families, friends, people they cared about and who cared about them. What an ignoble end to a life — being stripped of all dignity, of everything that made them a person, and reduced to a mindless base instinct to feed on living flesh. And how strange it is, feeling this sense of empathy for beings who, in life, may have likely held as little regard for him as the humans in his own world do. The humans who claim androids are incapable of experiencing genuine emotions...
Putting walkers down seems like a kindness, more than anything, and that thought is what makes him deviate from Aaron's advice, opting to use the hammer instead of crushing the walkers' skulls beneath his boot. It just seems — better, in a way that's difficult to define right now.
The strikes delivered from his own hammer are as neatly precise as he can manage while keeping the splatter to a minimum, without prolonging the final death process any more than it needs to be, and he obliges Aaron's warning by shielding his face with his free arm. It's enough. He remains mostly free of gore, and the walkers have ceased their terrible noises and struggling, lying still now. K rises from his crouch and stands unmoving for several moments, staring at the creatures, then finally lifts his widened eyes to Aaron's face and offers him a vaguely apologetic look, hoping he won't be angry. There's also a degree of wariness in the subtle way K's bracing himself, as though expecting to have to weather that anger. But it isn't personal. It's simply the result of being conditioned to expect being treated a certain way by humans, particularly when he's failed to satisfy them in any way.
Shaking off the clinging clumps and strings of gore from the hammer, he releases the breath he'd been holding with an inaudible sigh and looks down at himself. It's far from the first time he's extinguished a life, but... he's never done so of his own volition before. Death has only ever occurred while under direct orders, with the compulsion inherent in his programming leaving him no choice in the matter. A machine carrying out its duties. The experience of killing his first walkers has left him a bit off-kilter, but he doesn't want to dwell on it. Some fresh air would certainly be welcome right about now.
"I don't hear any others," he says, his voice seeming loud in the silence, and he uses the hammer to gesture toward the trio of walkers. "Are we going to leave them there?" Because he's willing to help arrange the corpses if need be.