Arthur Lester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lestercraft) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillatim2024-12-27 10:51 am
lestercraft) wrote in singillatim2024-12-27 10:51 am
Part Three: The Case
Who: Arthur Lester and whoever wants to contribute
What: Solving problems one hunch at a time
When: December catch-alldespite how late it is
Where: Milton Community Hall (OOC info on NPCs here)
Content Warnings: General Malevolent warning (Lovecraftian horror etc) to S5
There's a nice big empty stretch of wall behind and beside the piano in the community hall, and since he's been spending most of November hunched over the piano and moving it around anyway, it's not immediately suspicious that Arthur keeps hovering around the place.
Until he starts pinning sheets of paper to the wall. It seems more polite than writing directly on the wall. They have large, obvious headers as well:
The Darkwalker; Methuselah; Enola; Forest Talkers
He's also sitting a sheath of spare paper on the piano, and some limited writing supplies with it; charcoal, mostly, but what few remaining pens work as well get scavenged for the task. And he spends a good bit of time there regularly, leaning on the piano as he thinks or makes notes.
What: Solving problems one hunch at a time
When: December catch-all
Where: Milton Community Hall (OOC info on NPCs here)
Content Warnings: General Malevolent warning (Lovecraftian horror etc) to S5
There's a nice big empty stretch of wall behind and beside the piano in the community hall, and since he's been spending most of November hunched over the piano and moving it around anyway, it's not immediately suspicious that Arthur keeps hovering around the place.
Until he starts pinning sheets of paper to the wall. It seems more polite than writing directly on the wall. They have large, obvious headers as well:
He's also sitting a sheath of spare paper on the piano, and some limited writing supplies with it; charcoal, mostly, but what few remaining pens work as well get scavenged for the task. And he spends a good bit of time there regularly, leaning on the piano as he thinks or makes notes.
no subject
No, I'm saying I've been institutionalized multiple times and that I'm a danger to the public. You should probably stop talking to me.
[ Wynonna, you talked to him first!
But he keeps going, eying her coffee with undisguised suspicion, and her eyebrows lift up toward her hairline as she realizes he's not kidding. ]
Eighty percent of what we've been eating is wild animal, dumbass. You seriously think some government goon is out there dosing every fucking rabbit and berry before we eat them? Because I've seen how government agencies work, and believe me, they are not that organized.
no subject
He is very much not used to this amount of sassing... and it's actually more wounding than he'd like to admit, being called dumbass like it's nothing, but — Konstantin can recognise there are more important matters here, and his frown deepens, brow knit, worried.
He casts a quick glance from left then to right to make sure no one else is close enough to hear, but then he moves closer to her anyway. Leaning in a little, his voice lowers barely above a whisper, conspiratorial and cautious. )
I wouldn't doubt Soviet capabilities.
( Admitting he's from Soviet-era at all isn't something he does too willingly around here, because he doesn't like most people knowing too much about him, but— for all her sharp-tongued quips and maybe?? hatred?? of him (he still doesn't know exactly what he did, which makes it twenty times worse; does she just think he's ugly? maybe nasty? has she seen him puking blood into the weeds, or maybe she's heard about the creature—)... he's not going to just stand by and abandon the woman to what he thinks is a very real potential danger. Especially if there's a chance she might have been mentally tampered with by multiple rounds of institutionalisation. )
Before here, I was close to their technology. I've seen what can be done. How relentless it can be. ...And the sort of weapons they create where nobody on the surface can see. ( His position afforded him privilege in more than one way. He knows secrets, Wynonna. Secrets. And of course, being held prisoner in a Soviet research facility puts him a bit on edge about it all, but they were literally trying to turn him into some freakish weapon. That seems pretty on track with this place giving people weird powers, to him. )
I'm not so sure they aren't involved here, now. Continuing that sort of work. ...Making weapons out of us. ( Konstantin lifts one severe brow at her, voice still hushed. ) Just— be careful.
no subject
Okay, double-oh-seven. I'll keep an eye out for the Soviets.
[ Literally there are like three Russians total here, one of which is him. ]
That sweet blonde doctor totally has something up her sleeve. She's definitely involved in some shady government conspiracy.
[ His paranoia started out funny, but it's starting to rub her the wrong way now, as he talks about people being taken, being experimented on. (And there's something else that niggles at her, about those government programs and who — and what — they experiment on, in the name of protection... Black Badge is at least as bad as he's saying. Maybe worse. And she'd signed on the dotted line.)
Wynonna leans forward, putting her hand on the table so she can get in his face, only inches away, her hair hanging down over her shoulders. Her eyes snap with irritation. ]
Guess what? Someone already made a weapon out of me. But I don't fucking care who is behind the shit here, whether it's some glowy green dog with a bad attitude or fucking Boris and Natasha. I am my own damn weapon. And anyone who tries to use me will find out just how good of one I am.
no subject
Keep your voice down! ( He whispers, not admonishing but fretful.
'Someone already made a weapon out of me.'
Again, he doesn't... talk about this. Barely, to Vasiliy and Chloe, and he's hinted to a couple of things with Bigby Wolf, but... Ever since his arrival here a year ago, Konstantin's nurtured all of these concerns, and he hasn't known who to trust. Anyone here could be a plant or a part of it, but... just as much, anyone else here could have been a victim like he was. More and more over time, he's begun thinking of the members of this community less with suspicion and more with solidarity. And hearing Wynonna directly say she was held somewhere, multiple times, and was turned into a weapon... Fuck. What exactly does that mean? Is it something like him, or something vastly different? )
I'm not saying we'd ever know about any of them. They could be in an entirely different facility from here, making things happen, communicating with plants in this place. ( (It's strange, phrasing it as they, like he's not a proud and loyal member of Soviet society himself, but instead something estranged. He never imagined he would wind up abandoned by the people he devoted his life to. He was a goddamned Hero.) )
Look, I'm only saying— they brought us here for a reason. And those of us who have already been tampered with are probably their prize experiments.
( It's maybe dangerous letting her know what he just did, but it was maybe dangerous for her to do the same. She doesn't seem too worried about it though, and that worries him. )
What happened to you before... has this place affected it at all? Made it weaker? It has, right? They don't want to risk you being able to fight back too much.
( He's thought this for himself, that they're doing something to the creature to keep it weak, so that he can't use it for escape, or to fight back. )
no subject
Don't tell me to be quiet.
[ Who cares who hears her? It was all going to come out eventually anyway. It's only because they've all been distracted by the never-ending threat of the Darkwalker than the people here haven't found out who she really is, the curse she carries along with her name.
He stares at her, like he's willing her to understand, and she frowns at him before realizing what it must be: us, he'd said. Those of us.
Which means she was right all those months ago, when he came around looking for Kieran and acting so squirrelly. There is something wrong with him. (Aside from the obvious stuff.) ]
It— kind of, yeah.
[ She says it defensively, annoyed with having to agree with him on anything. Peacemaker is just a gun here, but if it weren't — if the curse were still active —
(even the thought is dangerous, so dangerous, what if she's failing everyone here, too?)
... would she be able to hurt the Darkwalker? If it's some kind of cursed being... could Peacemaker kill it?
Her jaw tightens and she folds her arms, her coffee set aside. ]
Or maybe we got brought here because we're still able to protect the others. Maybe they just wanted to try and find someone who could help. Ever think about that?
no subject
.......Is there a possibility that Wynonna has an alien worm as well
.....................Probably not, right.
But her question does make him think that she probably doesn't know about his own situation after all, and the fact he'd been responsible for an Interloper's gruesome death just a couple of months ago. It's a question that actually takes him off-guard for a long moment or two, the man reaching up to run a broad palm over and down his jaw (still almost unnaturally clean-shaven in a place like this; he's been shaving every morning he can like his life depends on it), mouth pursed, thinking hard. Then— )
My.... situation isn't a very helpful one. ( Admitted with a rough exhale. He finally breaks his intense and focused eye contact, glancing off for a moment. )
In fact, I'm concerned it could be dangerous for others here, even if it's been... weakened.
( Somehow, he's (however vaguely) admitted to the person he's been trying very hard to have a better opinion of him, one of the worst things about himself that he's been desperately trying to hide for months now. Later, he'll reflect on how bizarre that is, but for now— it feels right. She might be one of the few who understands things in a particular way.
He looks back up at her. What he's asking is pretty personal, and there's no guarantee the woman will respond, but it's worth a try. This might be the closest thing he has to something that makes sense. )
You said you were turned into a weapon. Are you a danger, back in your world? Maybe we're here to be kept contained until they need to use us again.
no subject
[ Fast and flippant, but behind it all, her brain is turning everything he's saying over and over like one of those bingo hall ball rollers. Wynonna shifts to half-sit on the edge of the table, her arms still folded but—
Well, she doesn't like the guy. But now he's got her thinking, and at least it's a good distraction from everything else.
And even now, there's some part of her that snaps to attention when he says he might be a danger to the people here... like she's done such a bang-up job of protecting them. She killed another Interloper for attacking Louis, and he was still in terrible shape. She killed a Forest Talker almost with her bare hands for attacking Little, and he still almost died.
If she really wanted to protect people, wouldn't she take this guy out before he hurts someone else, and not after?
(But if she starts thinking that way, shouldn't she have let Louis die, shouldn't she have gotten on board with kidnapping that Forest Talker, shouldn't she have done a million things differently since the beginning? Can she kill someone in cold blood and still find any kind of peace? Could she, even if he asked her to, like Fish, like Levi, like Shorty?) ]
Okay, I'll bite.
[ She shakes her hair back over her shoulders and finally loosens her arms to reach for her coffee, firmly shoving all those other thoughts away. ]
What exactly is 'your situation'?
no subject
That gets him thinking. Before here, the creature was fed human beings, the worst of the worst kinds of criminals — an easy supply of food that the facility could keep covered up. Konstantin hadn't spent much time angsting over the ethical complications of "a human life is a human life". Those men had deserved it. For what they'd done to other human beings.... they deserved it.
The alien doesn't care about "right" or "wrong", doesn't understand the concept of anyone deserving anything. It's just hungry, and it just wants to survive. But back in his world, the longer they were tethered to one another... they were starting to influence each other, and it went both ways. It wasn't that he could ever control the thing, but his willpower... mattered. He was able to work with it to some degree, to keep Tatyana safe.
That ability has been stripped from him here, their tether seemingly broken in this place. But what if he could work with it again? Use it to help people? To protect people? And to target "bad guys" — he thinks of the recent Forest Talker attack. What if it could have stopped some of them...?
Whatever she's got going on, however she's a weapon, too... maybe he's the same. A weapon can be used to hurt or to help. To attack or to protect.
Is it possible he could still be the second option, in this place? (This place is all he has left, anyway. He can't go back home; there's an uneven, roundish scar in his abdomen where the bullet went in and stopped everything, fast. He made sure it would. Maybe his purpose is to take care of people here, now.) )
...
( He probably should have expected the direct question in response to his own, but it definitely registers as discomforting; Konstantin looks around again, tense, then stands up straighter from where he was leaned in, arms folding across his chest. Honesty's dangerous, but she's been honest with him about some pretty important things (even if this is hardly what could be considered a nice, amiable conversation....) )
When I was on my last mission, I made contact with something and became infected by it. It's not contagious— ( he's quick to say, still keeping his voice down, ) ...but it is alien.
After, they put me in a research facility. You can imagine how that went. ( A purposeful lift of brows, before he gives a rough exhale. )
It could be used to help people, but this place has made everything... unstable. It's out of my control now, and I can only try to manage it like a disease.
no subject
She's not really sure exactly what he's getting at, but there are a few strange phrasings in what he tells her that hook into her attention and draw it tight. Dolls would probably have pegged this guy for whatever he is... or whatever he's hosting on day one, but give her a break: she'd only been Black Badge for a few months before she got dragged here. ]
So when you say you got infected...
[ Her glance runs down along his body, slow and assessing, but lacking any of the mischievous warmth that might come from someone who's actually into him. It takes just as lingering a path on the way back up, as she tries to remember all the various sci-fi movies she's seen over the years. Is it some kind of parasite? A virus?
Whatever it is, she doesn't like the idea of it being out of control or unstable. They've got enough of that without adding alien hitchhikers to the mix. ]
So when you say you think it's 'the Soviets,' you mean you think it's the same guys who locked you up before?
no subject
But he opened this up, told her what he just did, left room for inquiry and suspicion and... other things (fear, abhorrence, disgust; each as awful as the last). He thinks of Bigby Wolf's words, of the responsibility he owes to the people of this community. He remembers how he woke with someone else's blood on his mouth and down his throat.
It's now or fucking never, and he's already tried never. He tried it for a year. So— )
It's a sort of parasite, ( he says, more nervous than he lets on, though he's staring right at her and he isn't blinking. Some part of him still can't believe he said it. He holds onto the fact that it's what he owes her, as someone else trapped here. Trapped with him. )
I think... there's a very real possibility it could be the same people. I escaped from them, but only briefly. I believe they might have found me again. Put me here.
( Or maybe it's not, but the coincidence seems... too strong to ignore. )
Who knows? Maybe the same people who kept you are in on it, too. Working together. Maybe they can travel through time, find people like us at different points. I know it sounds crazy, but everything about this goddamned place is crazy.
( Beat. )
The only thing I know is that I'm not crazy.
no subject
[ Her expression undergoes a drastic shift — her lips press together and bow into a frown; her nose scrunches up; her eyebrows pull sharply together: ew that is so gross.
An alien parasite. Her mouth opens and she faux-retches, delicately. ]
Definitely didn't have that on my bingo card for today. Yikes. I think you win for 'most disgusting accessory,' bud.
[ But even in her disgust, no part of her feels afraid, either of the guy or his hitchhiking alien buddy. She makes a face, but she doesn't flinch away. It's unbelievably gross, but not a threat, not like the ones she's known all her life.
She does, however, eye his chest a little warily, wondering if the thing's going to come bursting out of him and if it'll have a taste for faces if it does.
It's the emphasis in what he says next that finally brings her attention back up to his face, that makes something shift in her own; she's plenty familiar with people thinking she's the crazy one. ]
Yeah, fine, I don't think you're crazy.
I mean, I don't know, you might be, but it's not like we have any real idea of what's going on here. Maybe it is your thing, who knows? The only thing I know for sure is it isn't my thing. Which is probably for the best for all of us.
[ Except for how it's broken Peacemaker. Except for how she might actually have been able to do something about the goddamn Darkwalker if the curse were still active, if she still had access to the heir's abilities. ]
I'd take 'shadowy government conspiracies' over what I left behind any day.
no subject
Maybe it's the most honest. The repulsed expression, like she's tasted something unpleasant, and then the— the gag.... It's exactly the kind of reaction he's always expected, and always felt a sweep of near-overwhelming relief when it didn't come. And now it does. It actually stuns the fuck out of him for a long few moments.
Until she says that word, disgusting, and something in him loosens and falls, his stomach dropping unpleasantly like he just missed a step on the way down the stairs. The thing is absolutely disgusting, he knows that, he knows that. It disgusts him every second of every day, and somehow, impossibly, the people who know about its presence don't seem disgusted by him (but they have to be pretending at least a little, even Vasiliy must, because how could they not?)
Then she's looking at him, eyes traveling down (like Kieren had, she seems to focus on his chest and he doesn't quite know why — Konstantin never had the pleasure of seeing Alien) — but she's looking at him and for a man whose entire purpose is to be looked at, this is suddenly the worst thing; he almost involuntarily, defensively, places a hand briefly against his abdomen as if to cover himself.
(Don't look, don't look, please don't look—)
She doesn't even know what it looks like, and he hopes abruptly that she never finds out. It has to be worse than anyone could imagine. Konstantin can't even say anything in response, just watching her as she keeps talking — and there are certainly no smiles plastered on his face now.
(It's horrible, and no doubt says a lot about how selfish he actually is, but as much as he hates the thought of people being afraid of him because of this thing, being seen as disgusting is actually the worse fear. He'd take being seen as frightening over being seen as that. As this.) ]
Ah— right— [ His composure's knocked askew, he nods at the woman's words, hearing them but having to struggle to concentrate to keep himself fixed to them. He tries, though, recognising their importance. Sounds like she's had her fair share of The Horrors. ]
You really don't think it's possible whatever you left behind followed you here?
[ He pushes his curiosity forwards, past the unpleasant sinking feeling of other things, and places one hand on the surface where the coffeepot rests, leaning forwards a bit. He hopes it reads as looking interested; in truth, he's not feeling so well. (The thing reacts to his negative emotions, to fluctuations of hormones and upset, and he's swallowing quietly against a nauseated slickness at the back of his throat.) ]
no subject
[ Like Bobo del Ray would show up and keep to himself; like he wouldn't toy with the people here just to piss her off, just to get her attention.
(He'd thrive here, too, just like Hickey has, even without any demonic underpinnings. He doesn't need to be able to manipulate metal or make his eyes glow to ruin her life. And it's not like he doesn't already have the coat for it.)
She takes a swallow of her coffee, clocking the guy's visible discomfort with casual interest. It's the kind of thing Dolls would note, the kind of thing March notices and files away into his what makes this guy tick mental file. Well, so he doesn't like talking about his creepy alien chestmate. Who would? ]
I'm not saying it's impossible, I'm saying there's zero chance it wouldn't have already come up. Bad shit follows me around everywhere.
[ And here.... she can't tell if some of this crap is just a fun new angle of the curse, or if the curse itself is somehow defunct while she's not in her own world, or if it's just garden-variety bad luck that she still seems to find herself on the receiving end of a lifetime's worth of bullshit here. It just comes in different shapes, like last year's shadow, or a constant fear for the people she's grown close to, all of whom have had close brushes with death in just the last six months.
Maybe that's what hell really is. Being the one left standing while everyone you care about screams and bleeds and dies. Again. ]
no subject
He offers a thin smile back up to her, only a little strained around the edges. Maybe it's just because of the subject matter she gives him, it's fine, everything's fine. (He needs to go lie down soon, the thing's unhappy). ]
That doesn't sound good. [ A problem that becomes everyone else's. It's what he's been trying to prevent from happening this whole time. The thing's so much weaker and less capable here, thank god, but it's still— it can still be extremely dangerous, when things line up a certain way. If it gets the upper hand on someone....well. Someone's already died here because of him, and it wasn't a pretty death. It often goes for the face, like any predator might, to incapacitate its victims from being able to defend themselves, before it breaks through the rest of them. What's left isn't very recognisable. ]
....Sounds almost like a sickness spreading. [ He adds, slight smile still in place, but humourless. His own situation may be a ticking timebomb, but he can still hide it, as much as he possibly fucking can, shoved literally down into himself as much as metaphorically. Sounds like that's not an option for her, whatever bad stuff she means, something that would be impossible to keep hidden. Indeed, it conjures up the image of something spreading like fog, dark and heavy. ]
I take it you're in no hurry to get back home, then.