far_beyond | A beating heart of stone

Entry tags:

A beating heart of stone | A new arrival

Who: Devin Parker
What: New arrival! He's not enjoying himself.
When: Start of the month, amid the giant vole infestation problems
Where: Promenade, Operations module, and wherever voles congregate
Warnings: None, will add as needed.

A. A New Arrival

What in the nine hells is this?

Devin was not entirely unaccustomed to being yanked around by gods, but this was… new. A moment ago, he had been standing in the private room of his club, and now he stood in the middle of the promenade. For a long stretch, Devin stood very still as he assessed his surroundings. No immediate danger he could see or hear or otherwise sense; it appeared much like a futuristic town square, of sorts. A hub of activity, or what should be a hub. There were some people, but hardly the number he'd expect for a place of this size.

His attire was completely different, if reasonably practical. The tablet in his hand was not like ones he knew, but it was comprehensible from a usage standpoint. If this whole thing was a trap, it was a highly unusual one.

Cautiously, Devin walked until he could find a place to sit, and opted to begin with the tablet. This, at least, provided an answer to his arrival, albeit in a much less ostentatious format. He had not yet met the entity named Q, but Devin resolved to treat him with the same amount of respect as he did any other god, which is to say: very little.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, and kept reading and watching people go by.

B. Operations

It quickly became obvious that what people there were on this bizarre station were occupied and overwhelmed by enormous alien rodents.

All things considered, this was not the worst introduction to a place Devin had ever had. He found his way to the Operations module, since that was apparently his assigned duty (he could think of worse occupations, too), and spent a long while carefully familiarizing himself with the computer interfaces and capabilities of the station. Giant voles very likely were not the biggest problem they'd face, and Devin would rather be prepared.

Suffice it to say he will remain engrossed, if extremely attentive to his surroundings while he studies.

C. Giant Rats

Phasers were vastly different from the firearms Devin was accustomed to, but his skills with guns still came into play. If it looked like he was channeling his confusion and agitation with this situation into learning how to expertly use the phasers and killing voles, at least it was a useful redirection. Feel free to join him.

Still, it was an inefficient methodology, so at one point he took the risk of fiddling with the settings on the phaser. "There's got to be a way to make these damned things wide-beamed," Devin grumbled, consulting the information on the computer screen next the the bench he'd temporarily claimed. Surely someone had tried this before.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Overwhelmed? No, but extremely annoyed, Valdis walked into operations, padd in her hand, angelic blade on her hip, tracking the most recent power surge through the station.

"Computer, close off sections 13 and 17," she commanded, quickly noting and isolating the two separate areas where the surge seemed most powerful. "Notify Clarissa, she's closest to that area and can take care of the vermin."

The computer trilled a quick reply as she turned to a screen and continued to track the movements of the others around the station. The scent of the newcomer drifted across her senses. She knew he was there, but seeing as Q currently had a "game" running, this man likely wasn't of any danger or consequence.

Devin noticed the woman's approach and glanced up as she entered, making a cursory assessment. She'd likely been here longer than he, given her apparent ease with interacting with the station computers. Her uniform indicated she was somewhere in the same organizational hierarchy as him.

The sword, on the other hand, was decidedly not standard issue. The weapon itself could only have been custom-made, and to wear it openly was either a display of arrogance or complete confidence in its use. Devin guessed it was the latter, though the two were not mutually exclusive.

"You may wish to inform whichever sorry sap is on duty in engineering as well, while you're handing out orders," Devin remarked blandly, his gaze back on the terminal. He'd pulled up details on those sections, and the creatures did seem to be attracted to power sources. "Assuming those sections can be vacated, why not simply vent them of atmosphere until they die?"

The hair on the back of her neck bristled, though not entirely because of his words or gaze. Something more lingered in the air, something that some part of her disliked on a heightened scale. She took a deep breath.

"Computer, locate Jaina Solo."

"Jaina Solo is in Engineering," The computer chirped.

Another breath, centering, sensing...only one heartbeat in the room, her own. Perhaps more danger existed here than she expected, yet, the man seemed more interested in helping than hindering.

"Suffocation is a terrible way to die," she replied, almost as if she knew personally. She faced him and leaned back against the edge of the wall. She evaluated with a cautious eye, still no heartbeat, only the vague sense of a soul...no, more than that, but why or what she didn't know.

Devin's own senses told him very little beyond what he could see, but that was enough to decide this woman was someone to keep an eye on.

"Because letting them eat their way into the fusion core while we off them one by one is definitely a logical alternative," he replied with a trace of sarcasm. In all likelihood, those systems had been designed to fail closed in the event of an electrical interruption or surge, assuming anyone remotely sane had designed this place. Whether they could repair it with their limited knowledge, however, was not a small matter.

"And who is to say that the use of phasers is any better a death? They're vermin, and we're killing them anyway." He shrugged with practiced nonchalance. Devin was not actually blind to the suffering of other creatures, but he was entirely willing to wipe them out if it meant surviving longer, and more comfortably. "We may as well do so as efficiently as possible."

Cold, but no colder than her general view on humanity, though the more time she spent among the mortal race, the more...fondness she had despite her dislike of them. Predators rarely had a caring view of their prey, which led to the question of if this man was such a predator. He was at the very least an immensely cynical 'human', and at the most...she truly had little idea. The phasers seemed to be mostly painless, as much as she could tell through the lack of true intelligence the beasts presented. In truth, they were much like the Void, hungry and instinctive.

"Well, unfortunately, those two sections cannot be vented in the way you suggest, but if you are searching for efficiency, there's a strange rifle in security you might make use of instead of a phaser."

Though, picking the vermin off one by one was still slower than any of them liked.

Faint annoyance pinched Devin's brow as he continued to study the screen, though whether this was for her comments or what he was reading would be difficult to guess. Perhaps both. The entire situation was disagreeable, if not deeply dangerous. And that was assuming he was really here and not merely trapped in some horrific manipulation.

"Unless they can use a wide-beam distribution, they won't be much more helpful," Devin said, pulling up the specifications. The weapon in question did indeed resemble a rifle, and appeared to have multi-target functionality. He continued after a moment, scoffing, "You would think that with this level of advanced technology that someone would have built a better mousetrap by now."

Valdis continued her observations, allowing a moment of her own annoyance to slip through her guard. Was it too much to ask for someone with no heartbeat to offer something aside from sarcasm and snide comments?

A very human question, asking someone to have a heart, how weak to even consider that it is a useful thing to even possess.

The glowing gem in the hilt of the blade darkened as the voices offered their own commentary. How vocal the creature had become in the silence of space. She closed her eyes, a short, sharp breath to contain the dark curiosity, the penchant for chaos. Upsetting a potential ally against Q surely wasn't worth the risk.

"Perhaps they have and we just haven't figured it out yet."

She looked back at her padd, the vole life signs in the two sections had vanished, time to isolate a few more.

Easier, easier. We wonder...

Devin could not say what, exactly, prompted him to raise his eyes from the terminal. He did it, and he noted the light-shift in the gem, the sharp intake of breath, as though something caused her discomfort. Nothing obvious, in any case. Curious.

"Perhaps," he allowed, turning back to the screen. The Q entity could have easily removed any more helpful information, as well. It seemed to find entertainment in their struggles, which was not encouraging. "You've clearly been here longer than me; what search terms would you use?"

It could be an idle question from someone only newly acquainted with the computer systems. It could also be a gentle query into the way her mind worked.

"Not much longer."

These creatures didn't just show up at random, they likely just had a population boom due to the emptiness of the station itself. By that train of thought, this very event had likely happened before.

"I would find out what the personnel did the last time they had a population boom. It's unlikely this is the first time these vermin have invaded the station in such a manner."

Valdis missed her team back in LA, the varied bunch that Q had pulled together wasn't much of a cohesive unit, though the current crisis had seemed to draw them together ever so slightly.

"I would shudder to think they evolved here," he said by way of agreement. Somehow they'd gotten on the station, probably in one of those accidental introductions of invasive species that happened in the course of commerce.

Her answer was practical. That didn't tell him much, but it would be the beginning of a pattern. "A sound enough strategy." Devin still thought evacuating the people and then the air from any affected sections would be the most practical, but that wouldn't work everywhere. He queried the computer for mentions of the voles in station logs, focusing on any pertaining to security or engineering. He also requested files from the Sciences division; surely these things had weaknesses like any other species.

"Since I've been here approximately a day, if you have any insight into other potential security risks, do feel free to share," he drawled, sounding faintly bored despite feeling actual apprehension. They were flying utterly blind.

Not quite...fear, but a sense of uncertainty and worry wafted through the room. So the heartless man did feel things beneath that sarcastic, calculating exterior. Valdis hummed softly, uncertain of how to use this information, or if she even should. The two souled nature of this man, paired with his apparent life without a heartbeat made him an unknown quantity of the strangest kind.

She walked over to him, her eyes purposefully on his screen as she leaned toward it, reading what he came up with, breathing deeply to catch his scent more clearly. A soft tug in her chest and a low hiss in her mind told her the Void didn't much like being near him. Even more strange. Satisfied, she leaned back to stand up straight again.

"Hmm, what we know so far." Valdis retreated slightly to give herself more distance, hiding it through another low, thoughtful hum. "Some of it should have been given to you upon your arrival, but we are currently trying to make contact with the Tu Vishan, which appears to be a Federation vessel. This station is currently a Federation base. Before than it was held by a race known as the Cardassians, not quite Nazis, but they certainly weren't benevolent rulers of Bajor. Anything we've been able to glean from the station's computers has been pretty basic. Personal logs are password protected so we are mostly flying blind."

Very carefully, Devin did not outwardly react to her approach or her lean into his space. She didn't get problematically close, but close enough that it felt purposeful.

"I did arrive with this in hand," he said, indicating the padd beside him. "It largely only explained where and, to some extent, why we're here." The 'why' being Q messing with their lives. "I have been trying to catch up somewhat, but there is a great deal of information here." He hadn't yet had time to investigate the depth of the conflict that had occurred in this area of space.

Devin paused, scrolling through a report on the effectiveness of various gasses to sedate the voles. He continued, "Assuming they're as clever as this Federation, how likely do you think it is that the Cardassians will take advantage of this situation to attempt to reclaim the station?"

No reaction, not even emotionally to her closeness. She continued to ponder, though whose curiosity she was trying to satisfy was unclear.

"Oh, I have no doubt that if the Cardassians get here before the Federation we will have a fight on our hands. As far as records indicate, you could call the Federation the...good guys."

For whatever it was worth.

"I'd rather deal with the Cardassians than our currently presiding deity, at least they are mortal beings."

She caught of glimpse of his screen, seeing the report on the gases, "Back up a little, that one there might be possible."

For better or worse, Devin had had to get used to people in close proximity to him. Elders could not show weakness.

He snorted at the comment about the 'good guys'. "That's the story they may tell, at any rate." Good and bad were so often manipulated to fit a narrative. The Federation might simply be the lesser of several evils.

At the woman's request, Devin scrolled back up a little. "Anesthizine does look promising," he agreed. There were a few other options with similar effects, but they were probably overkill. "Assuming we can figure out how to pipe it into the environmental system and direct it where we want it." Hopefully someone with engineering expertise (and probably medical, to ensure they didn't use too much) could figure it out.

"What should I call you?" he inquired, purposely not asking what her name was. They were not necessarily the same thing.

Good vs evil seemed to always be subjective, after all the winners were the ones who wrote the history, never mind that other forces may have been at play. Valdis read the screen as he scrolled up, planning in her head how they might do it. Good thing Jaina learned so quickly, she might be their best bet since Peter had vanished, though the girl didn't seem too keen on being part of the team.

"I think we can make this one work, but people smarter than I when it comes to this station are going to need to be looped in."

She gave him a sideways glance, considering the question. Odd, and clever, perhaps he sought to glean something from the answer. He didn't ask her name, or her title.

"My friends back home call me Miranda," she replied. At least they saw themselves as friends, she saw them mostly as cover, just like her job and her team. Or so she continued to tell herself.

"But here...I suppose my real name wouldn't be amiss, and I'm not currently one for titles." She left those behind with her other missing memories, "You can call me Valdis."

Perhaps a cruel name, but it was hers, she couldn't remember being anyone else, despite her brother's insistence.

"And you are?"

He swiveled his chair to look at Valdis more directly, merely arching an eyebrow at her reply to his inquiry. That she supplied both names was intriguing. Certainly not a measure of trust, but it was revealing in other ways. People usually had an alias for a reason.

"Devin Parker." In his world, that name could be enough to send fear shivering through a room. Here, it only mattered for the powers it still supplied him, and those were hardly relevant even so.

"Given that we are short-handed, we may all have to learn more than we'd prefer," Devin said of the gas distribution. "I'm sure your intelligence will measure up to the task." He quirked a cold smile, and nodded to the sword at her hip. "And I sincerely doubt your current title of 'ensign' reflects your actual capabilities."

Finally, a response that wasn't sarcasm or cold logic, one that actually gave her something to go off of...surprise, or some measure of it. Perhaps he hadn't expected that sort of honesty, which could tell someone quite a bit about how he viewed the world. Perhaps he saw the world in the same was she did, cold, calculating, holding everything close and keeping everyone else at arms reach. Or perhaps he was just a sarcastic, selfish bastard caught up in whatever game Q was playing. Time would tell.

The prod at her intelligence could have been an insult, but humility was not her style in the slightest and life was boring without a challenge. "Certainly, but part of being a team is playing to your strengths and mine does not lie in the mechanical distribution of toxic gas throughout the station. I'm certainly willing to learn however."

Valdis felt the sword shine brighter when he nodded toward it. Unsurprising that he had noticed, the blade wasn't exactly inconspicuous, but leaving it behind while energy rodents ran about the place didn't seem wise.

"Ah, yes, I have some fighting skills, enough knowledge of the sword to keep myself alive if needed." More than that...much more. "This particular blade is called Revelations. It's...a family heirloom."

Of a sort.

Strictly speaking, those two mindsets were not mutually exclusive. He was cold and calculating, and he was equally selfish. One served the other.

"It's only toxic if one uses too much," Devin remarked mildly. He was aware that was a real possibility for the untrained, and he hadn't intended the comment as an insult. Valdis had sharpness wrapped around her, and he had no doubt that applied to more than the blade at her hip.

"Is it," he said of the 'heirloom', not quite a question. Devin suspected she was downplaying her skills, an interesting contrast to sharing both of her names, but confronting her on it now would gain him little. The name for the sword caught his attention, though.

Her familiarity with technology spoke to a similar level as he knew, probably, and while 'Revelations' might not reference the Bible, Devin was not one to rely on coincidence as an excuse. She was likely from some version of Earth, or supposed to be, if this was all an illusion. "It's very fine craftsmanship. May I ask how long ago it was forged?" See, he was capable of manners.

There were many reasons someone might carry two names, but few reasons for a common woman in her line of work or of her apparent age to be a master swordswoman, not to mention skilled in the ways of killing as she was. If she hadn't developed such a cursed moral code, she would have done well as a mob boss or assassin in current times.

The fact that Devin took such an interest in the sword was unsurprising and yet the sword had such a complicated history and was so deeply tied to things that people couldn't and truly shouldn't try to understand. She herself didn't know the sword, but it knew her. Even if it didn't have that history, no sword over a thousand years old shone as brightly as this one did.

"I don't know."

Not entirely a lie, but enough of one perhaps for him to pick up on. Too many fine and dangerous details were wrapped in that hilt, though...did secrecy really matter here?

"I'm fairly certain I can figure out how to synthesize this gas using the tools in medical, and of course the computer. I'll need Jaina to help figure out the dispersal method, unless you'd like to do more than just sit at a desk and go through files."

Perhaps an unnecessary prod, but with the lack of a heartbeat and the twin souls, Valdis didn't want his focus on the holy sword any longer than what they had already discussed.

Devin's posture and expression remained unchanged when Valdis shifted the topic of discussion back away from the sword. Perhaps she genuinely didn't know; perhaps she simply didn't wish to speak of it. He'd file it away for later.

"I cannot claim any great knowledge of fluid dynamics." Vi would have been on top of this problem in an instant, and Devin ignored the thought. "But I suppose if you're set on keeping me from becoming bored, I can attempt to assist. These systems seem to have ample capacity for running simulations," he said with a lazy gesture toward the console. "They can probably prevent us from accidentally knocking ourselves out."

A short pause, and Devin hummed. "Do we not have anyone with medical expertise yet?" This, at least, was genuine curiosity.

He seemed to accept that the conversation had shifted and followed the new direction. Though, just because he was willing to shift focus, didn't mean he was willing to let it go forever. Something for her to keep in mind.

"The Holosuites might be the fastest way for us to see if our plan will work." She replied when he mentioned simulations. She hadn't explored the features much, or really at all, it seemed like a possibly dangerous endeavor, pretending such things, but in this particular case it might be helpful.

"We do not have anyone trained in the medical field on the station right now, perhaps Q finds it amusing."

"Pity." Given the level of technology in this place, there was probably a lot that could be handled by a computer when it came to health. All the same, Devin made a mental note to swing by the infirmary when he had the time and familiarize himself with the tools. He might not have had any certifications, but he could manage a bit of field medicine.

"I was thinking of simply inputting the variables and letting the computer play with it," he replied to Valdis, shrugging slightly. "But I suppose using the holosuites will improve our knowledge of their operation, so it would be killing two birds with one stone."

Devin stood smoothly, noting the height difference between them. "Lead the way."

As he stood, Valdis noted the scent of death once again, it hung around him very much as it did her. What that meant without further prying couldn't be known and she had no desire to play any more cards, especially when it came to self-preservation.

"Let's hope it succeeds in killing a couple of these voles," she quipped, turning to lead the way out of Operations.

She was already noting perimeters in her head, the computer should be able to manage most of it with basic instructions. She pulled out her padd, searching for the specifics of the gas and began calculations.

"Knocking them out long enough to kill them will do, too." Though overdosing them with the sedative gas wouldn't be the worst plan. They would have to check the supply of anesthizine, or its components.

He trailed after her to where the holosuites were located, remaining quiet as she referred to the padd on the way. When they arrived, he scanned the wall panel display. Most of the computers did respond to verbal input, and if they wanted to test if this idea was realistic… Time to find out just how intelligent and detailed these things could be.

"Computer, recreate Deep Space Nine based on current conditions and population," he requested. "Open into engineering."

The wall chirped, and the doorway opened for them, waiting patiently. He stared inside at what appeared to be the engineering section, down to the finest details - including the voles. It was a marvel of technology, and it did absolutely nothing to reassure him this whole incident wasn't an elaborate manipulation. "Well, I'll be damned. That's quite a trick."

Why do things in two steps when you could do it in one? If this specific formula worked, then they could systematically flood parts of the station, wiping out the voles section by section. The gas was an interesting one, if it existed in her day and age, she had no doubt that it would have been mass produced for warfare. After all, no amount of political accord could ever truly wipe out such things.

She sensed the sharpness that accompanied the perfect recreation of the engineering section. Suspicion, of course, but also the added edge of someone always looking over their shoulder for the next threat. A similar feeling to those who had been on the ground in more modern warfare, but less like PTSD and more...refined, contained...more dangerous.

"Computer, simulate Anesthizine at thirty parts per million." If seventy could put the average adult humanoid to sleep, then the voles should either fall unconscious and die, or just...go to sleep, leaving the rest of them unaffected.

"Whenever you're ready."

Since both the use of a gas and venting all of the atmosphere would require sealing off sections, Devin assumed the anesthizine wouldn't be a silver bullet to get all of the voles. But it would give them an advantage, and presumably a kinder death than vacuum, which he didn't particularly care about but others probably would. And, he supposed, leaks of anesthizine would be less dangerous than losing oxygen.

Although he knew that the scene before him was a simulation, it would take longer for his brian to wrap itself around the concept. Too much instinct that had kept him alive to shove away easily. He stepped inside the archway, remaining cautious as he observed their surroundings. Almost unnervingly realistic.

He ran his fingers along the edge of a console, felt the texture and no give. "Hard light holograms. This must use an astronomical amount of power," Devin remarked, setting aside the vole problem briefly. That would play out as the computer calculated. He stepped closer to the fusion reactor, the unrecognizable engineering feat that scientists still only dreamed of in his world. "A miniature sun, captured and controlled for our use." He almost sounded disappointed. "One wonders if anyone but the engineers give it the respect that it's due, or if this is simply normal for the previous inhabitants."

She supposed it was impressive, in a manner of speaking. Perhaps a waste of power and technology, certainly energy, but...for people out here, in space, for months on end? Perhaps it was a worthy use of that energy.

Valdis placed her hand on another surface, noting the genuine feel of the console just like Devin. It would be far too easy to become lost in such hallucinations, they were so real. Technology such as this could be dangerous if it got out of hand.

"If you are around something enough, and bend it to your will for enough time, do you really respect it, or do you just assume it is on your side?"

Perhaps an odd question, but his wondering was just as odd, if not philosophical.

Devin noted a cynical slant to the question, glancing over at her curiously for a moment. "I think that depends greatly on the individual, and even more so on the culture. More likely most people believe things simply are the way they are, and don't expect them to change in any drastic way."

He wandered closer to the core, stepping around projected voles that were beginning to grow sluggish. "But sometimes, being around something for a very long time educates you in just how dangerous or complex it can be. Physics doesn't take sides, and acclimation doesn't preclude respect."

If people lived on small ships their whole lives, and not on stations as grand as this one or starships like the one holding nearby, Devin imagined there were certain things you simply did not skip just because you were used to it. You don't skip checking seals and supplies and fuel when a hard vacuum is mere inches away. It wasn't so different from how he lived his life, close to the edge at all times. "I suppose we won't know unless the previous residents return," he added, a bit wryly, and prodded one of the voles that had flopped over by his feet. "This seems to be working."

Valdis caught the very end of his glance, aware that her question was perhaps a bit off par. Yet, she looked at the core and couldn't help but feel like very few could truly respect the power being stored there. Those who worked with it daily perhaps, but those who just hovered around its existence...even if they understood the danger it could cause should it go awry, that didn't mean they truly respected it.

She shook her head, feigning deep distraction by her own thoughts, though she was greatly aware of the rest of Devin's comments, as well as the one about the Vole.

"Do you hear a heartbeat?" Did these holograms even have heartbeats, "I guess a better question is if it is alive or not. I can raise the potency if needed."

"I imagine the holographic systems are complex enough they could replicate a heartbeat, but I'm not sure it's on by default." He could easily imagine holography being used by surgeons in training, for example, but those programs would specify the medical parameters needed. Devin wasn't sure why she thought he could hear it from his position, but it made him slightly more wary of her.

"Computer, estimate the number of dead and sedated Cardassian voles in the engineering section," the vampire said after a moment to formulate the verbal request.

"Eighty-one percent dead, eighteen percent sedated. Sedated life signs indicate no chance of survival if current gas levels are maintained," the computer dutifully replied.

"And the remaining two percent?"

"Two percent departed the section before the sedative could take full effect."

He turned to Valdis, raising an eyebrow in inquiry. "Well, that's a decent success rate. Perhaps just a fractional increase in anesthizine levels would be sufficient if we really want to be sure."

The tension in the air, slight as it was, felt a touch colder. Again she was reminded of two predators who were in the same territory and carefully moving around each other, evaluating the threat and, if there was one, trying to decide what they would do next. Yet, here they were, killing giant voles instead. Which, of course, seemed to be far more successful than anticipated.

"Decent enough. If we can get the parameters correct in real life and manage to spread it systematically through the station." She replied, "Then, of course, we have to go collect all the corpses."

Sounded like a good task to delegate to someone else.

Guillermo's not best pleased with being here, either. He has somewhere to be, dammit, he has a train to catch, and being a whole fucktillion lightyears away is a whole fucktillion times worse than what was holding him up before. He's ready to go throttle Q himself and stake the bastard. Can you stake a god? Only one way to find out.

He's grumpily slouching by the Replimat when his stomach rumbles and he realizes he's starving, so he walks up to the replicator and orders a cheeseburger. And some horchata. Comfort food in his time of need. He wasn't going to bother asking for anything that his amá makes. It wouldn't be the same, no matter how perfectly the molecules were arranged.

Once he has his burger and drink, he turns and sees the guy reading, and there's a fizzing itch between his shoulder blades. He knows what that means. The Van Helsing blood in him is singing with the knowledge of what he's looking at. Vampire.

Another descendant, another slayer-by-blood, would already have the stake and crucifix out. But his necklace stays tucked beneath his shirt, and his stakes stay strapped. Vampires in space. Sounds like a bad sci-fi movie. He almost laughs. This whole thing is like a bad sci-fi movie. He gestures to the seat across from the guy who, by all rights, should be his mortal enemy. "Mind if I grab this seat?"

The stakes and the crucifix wouldn't help Guillermo much, if he did choose to use them. Though the stakes would hurt, if they landed.

Devin notices the man when he walks into the Replimat; he's noticing everything around him, right now, hyperaware for signs of danger that have yet to come. Waiting for this elaborate trap to be sprung. To say he's on edge would be an understatement. It's the scent of blood, however, that draws his attention sharp and narrow.

It's also the reason Devin doesn't immediately tell him to piss off when he asks to sit at the same table. There are plenty of other, empty tables he could choose from, after all. Devin sits back, takes a moment to study this new arrival, and with as much boredom in his tone as he can muster, says, "If you must."

"Thanks. I kinda feel like I need someone to talk to right now," Guillermo says, a little ruefully. The boredom in the other guy's tone doesn't faze him one bit; he'd taken exponentially more abuse as a familiar. Boredom was a good day.

He picks up a knife and fork and cuts his burger into quarters. "Do you think he's telling the truth about time being frozen back home?"

Devin is probably the least helpful person to play a listening ear when it comes to providing comfort - but he is good at listening. The question of time passing in their home worlds is not the one that bothers him most.

"Q? At this point, I think he's going to do whatever he finds most entertaining," Devin said dryly, watching the strange newcomer attend to his food. "A station full of people agonizing over everything they're missing does not seem to be his brand of entertainment. He wants us to be hapless mice running things in his maze, not trying to find a way back."

Not that that would stop anyone from making the attempt anyway, but the level of urgency was at least scaled down.

"Like that's going to stop anyone from trying to get back," Guillermo points out. "I've got someone depending on me. Back home. It's making me crazy knowing that he's all alone, frozen time or not." He laughs softly. "The guy can barely take care of himself without me. He's totally lost without me around."

He takes a sip of his horchata, trying to banish the worry clawing at the inside of his skull. He was exaggerating, a little, but Nandor really had come to depend on him, and damned if he was going to let his Master down.

Devin arches an eyebrow at the stranger. It's an odd contrast, the spoken concern and the reek of blood. This close, it reminds him of the Claimed and Bound. He's too calm and too alert for the latter, and Devin would sense both if they shared the same world. All the same, it is a mystery that demands solving eventually.

"It sounds as though you don't know what to do with yourself, either, without him around to tend to," the vampire observes neutrally. He returns to reading his padd. "If it's true that time stops, then you'll find him just as lost as you left him, when you return. If it isn't, then there's nothing you can do. Better to spend your time on what you can control."

The observation startles a laugh out of him. "Guess not," he concedes. He really doesn't. Last time he had this much quote-unquote 'free time' was when he was nineteen years old and still working at the Panera Bread.

"I'm not really sure what I can control here, though." He hasn't felt helpless like this in a while, and he hates it. A lot. Accepting his slayer blood and lineage had made him feel stronger, able to take care of himself in a world full of vampires and werewolves and ghosts and zombies and Babadooks. Here, now, he feels small. He feels like meek little Gizmo, metaphorical chew toy of everyone in the house, instead of Guillermo de la fucking Cruz, who'd earned respect from both his housemates and other vampires alike.

If Devin's exhale contains any annoyance in it, it would take a keen observer to notice. He's not the one people usually come to with these sorts of problems. They know better which of his advisors will be helpful (and which will only yank their chains). Or if they don't, they learn very quickly.

He raises his eyes briefly, a sharp glance, before turning back to the padd. "Do you want suggestions? Or do you want to spend the abundance of available resources you have now figuring it out yourself? Because if you want someone to soothe your fears and pat you on the back and tell you everything will be fine, I'm not going to do that. Find someone else to coddle you."

"Suggestions," Guillermo says, letting the acerbic tone wash over him. Honestly, it barely registers. It's not the first time a vampire's spoken to him like that, it's not even the thousandth, and it's not going to be the last. He's completely inured to it. If it had been someone he knew, however, he'd snap back, but they all know better than to treat him like that these days. Most of the time. But this guy? This guy just sees the outward image Guillermo projects - just a harmless, chubby guy in a cardigan and a button-down, an almost cherubic innocence about him. And like a siren, that image had drawn countless humans to their deaths. (He does mean countless. He'd stopped counting.)

"I'm just thinking that since we're all stuck here, maybe we can put our heads together."

Edited 2022-03-15 18:17 (UTC)

It has less to do with Guillermo's appearance than he might think; Devin is interested in how he'll respond. Dismissing someone who smells that much of blood seems like a poor decision, even if he appears only human. The vampire is not so distressed by being kidnapped into this reality to forget that.

He'd have been more impressed if Guillermo chose the second option, but he's not surprised. It's too soon to expect him to deviate from whatever patterns of dependency he's been living in.

"You may not find everyone here so willing to be a team player." As irritable as Devin is right now, he actually can work with others towards goals. No doubt Q picked some people who did not work well with others, just to watch chaos ensue. "We're not getting out of this by leaping to the end, either. Walk before learning to run, so to speak. What you can best control is yourself." He raises the padd and waves it a bit, sighing. This is, in some ways, not so different from when he murdered his way to elderhood. "Figure out where you've been placed in the hierarchy, figure out the lay of the land, and then contemplate steps forward. Listen, look, then ask questions."

"Hierarchy, huh." He's used to being...what's below the bottom of the totem pole? Because that. Even his promotion had been more lateral than anything. Then again, when you live with vampires, you're always going to be a steak on legs until they get used to you. (Nandor had once said that it used to be difficult to resist eating him until he wondered why nobody had yet, and compared him to the last donut in the display cabinet. Whether or not that had been just to dissuade Simon and Carol from snacking on him, it had still hurt in a completely bizarre and unhealthy way.)

Still, it's not so different from the way he'd decided to tackle Nadja and Nandor's vying against each other for power. He isn't unfamiliar with Sun Tzu, with Machiavelli. He's just been too angry to think straight about the situation, his blood boiling with the desire to kill his way out of it. Cut off the snake's head, etc.

"Yeah, the people I spent a lot of time with back home, they weren't exactly team players either." It had been like herding cats. Or herding bats. "You learn to work with it." He smiles. "You don't exactly strike me as a team player, yourself."

Poking the bear, gently, trying to elicit a reaction. Just to see.

"Presumably you were given an assignment like the rest of us." For now, they're all labeled as ensigns. Equal footing. Whether anyone will give a shit about rank as they spend more time here is up in the air.

The corner of his lips turn up wryly, not quite a smile, at the man's observation. It doesn't reach his eyes when he looks up again. The padd is left on the table, and Devin's posture gives away very little except that he is paying attention more obviously now. "You've spent all of five minutes with me," Devin points out. "How have you come to this conclusion?"

Guillermo smiles, just a little. "That wasn't a denial. And I'm pretty good at reading people. Call it a survival skill." He's used to the fey moods that his housemates often get into, and he knows how to hook people to come and be takeout for his Master, and he knows when to speak up and when to keep his head down. He wouldn't have lasted twelve years as a familiar if he hadn't.

"But if we're going to get into something in-depth like this, we should probably introduce ourselves properly, huh? I'm Guillermo."

"It was a question." One that Guillermo did not answer, in fact. Devin would like to hear the man's reasoning before proving him incorrect. He might be the titled leader of his own little empire, but Devin would not have survived to be twenty if he hadn't learned to work with others, much less reach his current age. He does not solve every problem with violence.

Devin tilts his head, considering the introduction with some amusement. "I think you may be overestimating the depth of this conversation, Guillermo," the vampire says mildly. Still, he offers his name: "I'm Devin."

Guillermo's rationale - that no vampire he's ever known has been anything resembling a team player - is not something that he's about to share. Even the Vampiric Council is more of an organization of convenience than anything. So he has to come up with something else. Luckily for him he's a great liar. Again, an acquired survival skill. "Call it a vibe," he says. "I dunno, people who sit by themselves in a space station that's already so huge and empty...kinda seems like you work better alone if you're not trying to join forces with everyone already. Strength in numbers, and stuff."

"So your conclusion is based on assumption. Pity." Devin exhales a small huff of disappointment. Certainly in this moment he's giving off an air of 'leave me the hell alone', but surely he can be forgiven for that. Being displaced so abruptly would throw anyone off, and some people isolated themselves when things got hard. He keeps the edge from his tone when he continues. "I've been here less than an hour. All I know about this place and why I'm here, I've learned from this," he says, indicating the padd, "and from observation."

He's following the same advice he gave Guillermo: listen, look, then ask questions. Devin is not inclined to trust anything about this situation, nor anyone else here. Nothing yet has made it clear this isn't some grand illusion, some manipulative trap. Also, congrats Guillermo: you're the first person he's talked to here.

"In my experience, I've found it the wiser course to understand where my feet have landed before I go walking into potential dangers."

"Assumption, experience, call it what you want," Guillermo says with a smile. "But I know I'd feel better with someone to watch my back here."

Typical vampire arrogance, thinking he can go it alone.

"I mean, I've only been here a couple hours, too, but I'm poking around the station. I get kinda restless when I'm just sitting around."

"Those two things are not necessarily the same, and you're assuming I'm not going to seek out other people just because I'm sitting here now. I wonder why that is," Devin remarks, a curious gleam in his eyes. Sure, experience can inform assumptions, but experience can equally blind someone to certain things (and he's aware, if a bit grudgingly, that this also applies to him).

It is true that the vampire has a fierce independent streak - but the same life experience that has him sitting here alone, reading and watching to orient himself, has also ground into him the need for a team. The problem is that the only people he has any measure of trust in are not here. He does not have the luxury of believing the people he meets are anything but dangerous to him, or to the people he's responsible for. He never has.

"You may prefer movement; some people prefer stillness." For his part, Devin's preference depended on the circumstances. In this case, staying still is what he needed first. There's sharp amusement in his tone as he says, "You seem very set on judging and dismissing my choices for someone who's just met me. Whatever did I do to deserve that?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A beating heart of stone | A new arrival

B

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A. vampire/vampire hunter, meet vampire simp/vampire hunter

this'll go well

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devin has spoken to gizmo for thirty seconds and already nailed the vibe

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