#my brother in arms || connor tar
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Connor Collective Timeline Summary
*Note this revolution takes place over the course of a Year. This is a bare bones summary and there is a lot of time between some Connors. Check out their individual bios for more info! (Adding as I finish them. WIP)
Connor-Tar: joins the tactical team and remains with Allan's crew. They defect when ordered to turn him in during the attempted android genocide. Like you do.
Blue is tragically broken in a traffic collision, but survives in the junkyard. He is recovered later by another Connor.
Eos is shot to death in Stratford tower while protecting Hank.
Genesis is killed by Markus in the Jericho raid after being unable to deviate in time. Recovered much later.
Recon is sent to assassinate Markus, but jumps off a roof to avoid being captured by the military. Later recovered.
Soldier is sent again to kill Markus, but he manages to deviate.
Connor-Son: is sent to assassinate Markus yet again, this time from the crowd of androids after they seem to have won. He deviates, but is taken over anyway and forced to fire. Soldier intervenes, and Markus survives.
Connors 58-60 are illegally sold to third parties. More on them later...
#with our eyes wide open || connor collective#connor collective origins#this is a revision from the old story so if you find older posts contradicting this dw about that#go with the newer content#this is a verse specific connor continuity#mild content warning#cw character death#my brother in arms || connor tar#rather i lose my limbs || connor blue#wont let you come to harm || connor eos#bullets may singe my skin || connor genesis#the mortars may fall || connor recon#huddled in the trenches || connor soldier#i never felt so much life || connor son#our eyes perfectly aligned || connor angel#gazing on the battlefield || connor infinity#our rifles blaze away || connor tribute
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Attrition of Peace
Thirty-Six: Alabaster
How to Tell a God They’re Stupid in 2,000 Words or Less
Warning: A hack job (some graphic descriptions of violence)
Although Alabaster had only been listening to Phobetor for a few minutes, he had already made up his mind about the God of Nightmares: Phobetor’s plan was stupid and he should feel stupid.
Alabaster donned his helm and shoved Pax and Euna out of his way. Without much thought to whether or not it would work, he continued toward Camp Half-Blood’s boundary. Some part of his mind processed the potential variable of the camp recognizing him as the enemy he was and stopping him. But Axel had said the barrier was almost gone. From what Alabaster could feel through the Mist, it was.
No magical force halted his approach. Zeus must have been too distracted to smite him with a lightning bolt though—Alabaster realized in disgust—Alabaster’s disobedience would likely garner Zeus’ attention quicker than Phobetor’s little outburst.
Instead of an invisible wall, Alabaster felt a wave of exhaustion flood his body. The world wanted to slip away. This was how Phobetor was knocking everyone but Lou Ellen and Clovis out.
But Alabaster was a child of crossroads, including the line between the waking world and the dream world. His mother was Hecate: a goddess who accompanied Persephone throughout Erebos.
If Phobetor thought this was exhausting, clearly he had never been near a college during finals week. Claymore had been having Alabaster shadow enough classes to understand a fulltime doctoral student’s pain.
After imagining his entrance into Camp Half-Blood for the last year and a half, whether to kill Percy Jackson or to see if any of his siblings had survived the war, Alabaster thought he’d feel more upon discovering he could enter. He didn’t feel anything more than the exhaustion and a dull numbness when he sprinted towards Phobetor.
As he rushed past Clovis, Sherman, and Miranda, he nailed the back of Sherman’s knees with his staff, buying Clovis some time.
The child of Ares collapsed backwards.
Phobetor’s hand was in the upswing when Alabaster reached him. Phobetor stood with his weight on one foot while using the other to pin Connor’s arm down. The god had hacked the child of Hermes’ hand twice, leaving two gouging clefts—one in his palm and one along his forearm. Connor withered and cried in his sleep.
Before Phobetor could sever Connor’s hand completely, Alabaster jabbed his staff forward. He caught Phobetor’s hand between the prongs at the end and twisted hard.
The hatchet flew off a few feet to the side.
Phobetor huffed like a middle-aged bourgeois that was told his house looked quaint. “Alabaster C. Torrington. Hecate’s infamous finest,” he sputtered. His clothing smelled like mothballs and rot, similar to the Leonis Caput. “Aren’t your nightmares that of your best friend falling in love with the enemy leader and your past lover joining them? Yet, here you are, defending those that shame you. Where did all that famed pride go that I heard of during the Second Titan War?”
Phobetor took a step back, disentangling his hand from Alabaster’s staff.
Although Phobetor pretended not to notice, Alabaster was pleased to see the god’s wrist broken.
“KICK HIS ASS, AL! NO ONE TALKS TO A LIEUTENANT OF KRONOS LIKE THAT!” came the broken rattle of Jack’s voice, followed by a few Romans muttering in disgust.
The cheering had gone silent except for Jack’s shout. Alabaster could envision the Romans’ discomfort and confusion.
He tried not to think about their hatred or the months he’d spent in isolation, running from a monster that couldn’t die with no one left to turn to, because his mother wouldn’t chose sides between her children and his friends were dead or had been blackmailed out of talking to him.
The Romans should suspect he would turn on them. They probably didn’t know if they should cheer, even if he was helping Clovis.
But he wasn’t doing this to help Clovis.
“I’m not here to save a camp filled with delusion and idiocy. I’m here to stop a thug from forcing his will onto others.” Alabaster glanced below Phobetor, to where Lou Ellen had sat up. She was crawling closer to Connor and Matthias. Though looking worn down and dazed, she winked at him knowingly.
Some distant instinct told Alabaster she needed a distraction.
He returned his gaze to Phobetor, raised his staff with one hand, and lowered his other to his handgun. “I’m sick of seeing demigods die to you and your kind’s flighty whims. I can’t believe the Romans and Greeks worship assholes like you. You don’t deserve to be a god.”
Someone made a catcall from behind him. “I forgot how hot you are when you’re indignant with theology, Witch Boy—Aye--!”
Alabaster sighed. His arguments might be taken more seriously without Ajax’s commentary or objectification.
Phobetor, however, took the insult very seriously. He sputtered and stomped his foot. He gestured behind Alabaster as though the son of Hecate had forgotten about Sherman.
The Romans made a choked noise of alarm. Probably from where Sherman was about to obliterate Clovis.
Alabaster withdrew his gun. He quarter turned to find Sherman in full swing towards the less physically adept demigod. Maybe a camper might have hesitated, but—with the ease of proximity—Alabaster fired four shots into Sherman’s shins.
The son of Ares cried and collapsed onto the ground.
Clovis stared back at Alabaster.
Alabaster gestured towards Miranda Gardener on the ground. “Go!” he snarled. They didn’t need any more dead demigods.
Without checking to see if Clovis followed his orders, Alabaster returned his focus to Phobetor. From what he found, Lou Ellen had just needed a distraction. She, Connor, and Matthias had vanished in a trick of the Mist.
Meanwhile, Phobetor reached outward. His piccolo-hatchet flew into the air and returned to his hands. “Deserve? Deserve?!” His hatchet spewed spiders as he swung at Alabaster.
Alabaster dropped his gun to use both hands to block. The force of the blow sent a tremor shuddering through the staff and into his full body. He hadn’t gone toe-to-toe with a god—even a minor one—in over a year. But those months of constant preparedness with Lamia meant Alabaster had learned to recuperate his magic rapidly; he was ready for another fight.
“Do you know what dreams would be without nightmares?” Phobetor snarled. The spiders from Phobetor’s hatchet lunged off Alabaster’s staff, towards his face. “Everyone fusses over how creative Morpheus is, but—without my terror to compare to—what would be the sweetness of his dreams!? Lackluster and banal!”
With a few mutters, Alabaster set off a rune on his PJs and the spiders burst into flames. He twisted his metal pole to strike Phobetor. When he hit the God of Nightmare’s shoulder, Alabaster’s staff sunk in like he’d struck a tar pool.
As quick as he could, Alabaster disengaged, taking a step backwards. Alabaster withdrew a hex stone from one of his pouches and tossed it—
But the God of Nightmares was too fast.
His tar-like body morphed to avoid the projectile. To curse him, Alabaster would need to throw something that the god couldn’t dodge. Or didn’t want to.
Alabaster sensed a shift in the Mist near Phobetor’s feet. Something told him that he only needed to buy a little more time for Lou Ellen.
This time, snakes slithered down from Phobetor’s coat ruffles as he went to attack.
“I think—” Alabaster hissed as he kicked a snake away and deflected another hatchet blow. His body rattled with the strike. “Like your brother, you’re not as powerful when you’re awake in the mortal world. And, keeping all those demigods asleep must be straining you.”
Phobetor harrumphed, “I am the grand Ikelos, you impertinent boy!”
But Alabaster could tell he was right. There was a reason Phobetor hadn’t been able to put he, Lou Ellen, or Clovis to sleep, or expand his sphere of influence to the Romans. There was a reason he couldn’t outright kill all the campers. Putting mortals into a sustained sleep was one thing, but—as Morpheus had discovered during the Battle of Manhattan—putting demigods to sleep was much more challenging, especially while knocking out a drakon, statue, and tree.
Lou Ellen reappeared by Phobetor’s feet, tossing away a snake. She gave Alabaster a thumbs up, then swiped her hand by the god’s foot.
The limb disappeared.
Phobetor gave a shout of alarm.
Someone else lumbered past Alabaster. He was shocked to see Clovis—seeming fully recharged—shove a Roman spear at Phobetor’s other leg.
Phobetor yelped and tried to shift his leg into tar. Although Alabaster wasn’t sure how the physics worked behind it—and would love to know—Phobetor couldn’t keep the tar leg’s footing without the other to balance. He stumbled backwards, flopping over Lou Ellen’s back.
She laughed and tossed two things to Alabaster: Phobetor’s detached foot, and a small, pink pigball. After Jack’s decapitation, Alabaster thought he wouldn’t be happy to see a dismembered limb for at least a week, but this one made him ecstatic.
The switch was simple, a slight of hand trick that kept Pax entertained for hours when he was little. Alabaster coated both objects with Mist, making the foot look like the ball and the ball look like the foot.
Lou Ellen scrambled over to their side, as well as she could with her apparent dizziness. Clovis prepared his spear for another attack.
Phobetor hissed in fury as he went to get to his feet—foot.
Alabaster tossed the fake-foot-real-ball in one hand. “It seems fitting that you’d lose this, considering it looks like you’ve been taking them from campers all day.”
“Give that back!” Phobetor huffed.
“Gladly,” Alabaster said.
He tossed the “foot” towards Phobetor. As he did, he and Lou Ellen chanted in perfect unison. “Incantara: sus transformatio.”
Logic told Alabaster the chances of success were 50/50: Phobetor was physically weak and vulnerable, and Alabaster and Lou Ellen were the former and current heads of Hecate. But Phobetor was a god. Petty spells shouldn’t work on him.
However, some part of Alabaster knew it would work. Like he’d done this before.
And as Phobetor caught the foot, smoke poofed around him. The jester costume deflated. His hatchet-piccolo fell to the ground, his kiwi bird mask right after.
In the place of the God of Nightmares sat an adorable grey piglet with a bowtie that squealed indignantly.
Thanks for the read guys! I hope you enjoyed this siblings combo XD
Side note: I love Alabaster and how confused he is.
Soundtrack for this song was Toccato by Overwerk. The artwork on the youtube video released by xKito reminds me SO much of what would happen if Kally and Atë had a full conversation. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BCnJAMkETiU
#The Attrition of Peace#Traitors of Olympus#Percy Jackson and the Olympians#Heroes of Olympus#fanfiction#PJO#HOO#Alabaster#Phobetor#Lou Ellen#Clovis#Sherman Yang#Miranda#Man.... I super didn't plan for this chapter to exist.....
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Constantly a work in progress.
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Really do feel free to message me anytime about anything.
#just connor#peppermint connor#51 who leapt too soon#human!connor#connor corpse#mer!connor#original fucking deviant#about connor#fucking deviant 52#its that bitch gavin#connor collective#about connor collective#my brother in arms || connor tar#rather i lose my limbs || connor blue#wont let you come to harm || connor eos#bullets may singe my skin || connor genesis#the mortars may fall || connor recon#huddled in the trenches || connor soldier#i never felt so much life || connor son#our eyes perfectly aligned || connor angel#gazing on the battlefield || connor infinity#our rifles blaze away || connor tribute#(not) just a machine || connor
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@detective-with-one-arm || plotted holiday starter
Her house looked warm even from the outside, where it was frosted with snow. Smoke was already billowing from its chimney. Connor's polished black shoes clicked against the pavement, as he stepped out of his taxi. Today, he wore his black suit, with the matching vest, a charcoal grey button-up, and crimson tie; festive, to match the season. A crisp wind against his skin made him consider the addition of a scarf, in the future.
Connor-51 was not at all surprised to see that he was first to arrive, it was expected. He smiled, a slight softening of his typically stern features. He was neither worried, nor considering all the ways things could go wrong, no. He was in good spirits, glad for the company, and the time to spend with the people he loved. The gifts he brought for her were wrapped tidily, set into a large red and gold gift bag that he considered stylish, and to-her-taste.
He smoothed his tie over, before knocking politely.
#with our eyes wide open || connor collective#my brother in arms || connor tar#more connors will arrive later ofc#good company for warm spirits
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@detective-with-one-arm || Rachel and Connor in the post-revolution quiet
Connor-51 sat in silence, his gaze upturned towards the starry night sky. They were far enough from the city of Detroit's constant haze of light and noise, to appreciate the fullness of the stars in the dark.
"It's beautiful," he commented, without looking away.
He was in a sort of limbo, while his status as a person was being newly processed. Once it was finished, he would be able to return to his work, not as police equipment, but as a genuine and recognized member of the team.
"I've never seen them this way, before..." his eyes drifted down to the horizon, where his city sat, illuminated by a dim halo of its own light. There was much he hadn't been able to see, before he was allowed to be real.
#my brother in arms || connor tar#with our eyes wide open || connor collective#detective with one arm#//rachel#so you know i had to just ditch the last attempt at this one since i changed the entire timeline...#maybe she saw him idling around the department or... I don't really know#we'll figure out how they got here but i wanted them to be here and I'm sure we can make it work
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@the-mind-of-xelyn || Kamski repairs Connor-Genesis
Requesting help from Elijah Kamski was never their first choice, but... Connors 51 and 56 road side by side in relative silence within the confines of Five-One's black SUV. The ice and snow crackled under the weight of the tires, previously undisturbed. Their passenger was... "Asleep," or so they hoped. His name was Connor, number -54, and he'd been shot; directly in his forehead, at point blank. Not only that, but he'd been recovered from the bottom of the Detroit River. They were fortunate enough to find his body within a couple of months after he'd been lost, but since then-
"It was half a year ago," Connor-51 pointed out, making idle conversation.
Soldier turned his head towards the left, to Five-One, whose eyes never left the road. "It's been one-hundred and eighty-nine days," Connor clarified.
"... Do you think he's still...?"
"There's only one way to find out."
Five-One eased their vehicle to a stop in the driveway, where they sat in silence for another long moment. They exchanged one last glance, to confirm, before stepping out onto the frozen pathway. Connor-51 leaned into the back seat of their SUV, and pulled out a large case, with some assistance. They carried the precious cargo together, approaching the lavish and secluded home with equal trepidations.
They were expected.
#my brother in arms || connor tar#huddled in the trenches || connor soldier#with our eyes wide open || connor collective#//kamski#the mind of xelyn#really eager to do this one#it took a lot of work..#but lett me know if anything is ? let me know what you think
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Connor-51 "Tar"
#my brother in arms || connor tar
About: Connor-Tar is a very stern and well composed man. He is decisive and bold, with strong convictions and a heart of gold. His deepest motivation is always to protect others, and to preserve life, to the best of his abilities. He is a permanent member of Captain Allan's SWAT team, where he actually enjoys his work. While it is dangerous, and at times, morally dubious, he is steadfast in his commitment to his duties.
History: When Connor-51 was tasked with handling a dangerous hostage situation, he was quick to take action. With Captain Allan's words in the forefront on his mind, he proceeded to take a discarded handgun, and made his way outside immediately. The negotiation was tense, and a little clumsy, but he only needed to get close enough. Once he was within range, Connor fired, executing poor Daniel without hesitation.
His performance impressed the SWAT Captain, who later asked to have him join their team permanently. Permission was granted, and Connor-Tar became a member of the team. Through his continued success, he developed a close bond with the Captain and the rest of the team. When the government ordered all androids to be eliminated, Allan and his team defected, recognizing the orders as unethical.
After the successful android revolution, Connor-Tar returns to work with his team, now as a proper member. Allan and his squad were pardoned for disobeying orders.
#my brother in arms || connor tar#with our eyes wide open || connor collective#connor collective origins#tw gun violence#it's a queue
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Connor Collective Origin Stories || Tar-51
Connor-51 was praised for the way he handled the deviant, (Daniel, whose name was continuously neglected,) in his first assignment. Captain Allan, who had been staunchly opposed to Connor's presence initially, was now the most vocal in his appreciation for the machine.
"We couldn't have done that without him," the Captain was recounting. "He was fast- and accurate. If we had something like that on our team, we could save a lot of lives." The truth of this was evident. Allan paused, a moment of silence for his grief, "We lost three good men out there, but if we had Connor from the start, then maybe..."
The Captain had already gone on for longer than he'd meant, but he seemed to catch himself, here. He straightened his back and fixed his superior with a solid look, "I would like to formally request to have the android transferred to my team. We could use the help, especially now that our numbers are down."
Although Allan had come with the full intention of fighting for his case, there wasn't any fight to be had. His superior agreed easily, and after a few phone calls to Cyberlife, they had their machine placed indefinitely among their ranks.
#connor collective#origin stories#my brother in arms || connor tar#to be continued#clearing out my drafts#with our eyes wide open || connor collective#connor doesn't actually appear in this part but that's kind of how it is for him for a while#not being seen and not being there except as a tool#this will change...#also me writing all my side characters because i can and i will#connor collective origins
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