poly_chromatic | action / audio / needlessly complicated

Entry tags:

star trek xi - pavel chekov

action / audio / needlessly complicated

[open contact]

[Those who know Chekov might find his behavior this weekend peculiar by virtue of the fact that he seems to have disappeared. He's not tinkering with various "projects" in the living room, working at City Solutions, out running, or popping in on various acquaintances. Maybe it's time to try sending a message...]

[action; closed to Korra]

[In truth, Chekov has been busy planning. Those gaps in his memory have been something of a concern and, after nearly a day of navigating and hacking his way into various servers in the City, he knows the cause.

Korra has little to do with it, but she seems to be the only person his target has any attachments to (aside from the cat, perhaps, but a virus should be taking care of that). Chekov already has what should be enough to keep his target in line long enough for him to get what he wants; Korra is just insurance. When hopelessly outmatched by an opponent on a physical level, a little extra leverage is a necessity.

Midday on Sunday, Chekov walks up to Korra's apartment. They're friends; he doesn't need to complicate this with subterfuge. She should be home alone, he has checked to ensure that Naga isn't present, and she won't have any reason to suspect that he has a hypospray loaded with a neuromuscular-blocking drug on his person.

He knocks on the door.]

[private message to Hei // unhackable]

Li, Hei, BK-201. I know who you are and I am prepared to make my knowledge public if you fail to meet my demand, which I will share in person. I will give you until 20:00 to find me.

[Short and anonymous, but Hei will find it ridiculously easy to trace this message to a location in one of the City's more ominous areas, full of conveniently abandoned buildings.]

[ooc: Morality reversal curse! Chekov has an agenda and may not be amused by calls; feel free to contact him anyway.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Easily traced message. Which can only mean it's a set-up. Determining the reason behind Pavel's bombshell isn't difficult; not when the weekend, Mao's condition, and past actions Hei undertook to silence the younger man are taken into account. Unpredictability is a mainstay and Hei has learnt to live with it. More than that. To bend and wield it to his advantage. ]

[ Still. It's a damn shame. He can already feel that part of him that was relaxing, softening to friendliness, shattering to pieces. Crunch. Microscopic dust. It doesn't matter how much Pavel knows. He's already gone too far. Right now this is just another snag. Ready to be sliced off. ]

[ He triangulates Pavel -- or the Device's -- location to an empty warehouse. (Why is it always a warehouse? Screams and gunshots aren't muffled in those buildings -- they echo hideously.) Without Yin's specter to provide infiltration and recco, Hei determines the floor plans and layout himself before compromising the territory. He disables the external fuse box and the alarm system in less than seven seconds. (The D-mark boxes are always a few feet outside the building itself; all it takes is a wire-cutter to slice a line and kill the alarm). He wonders if the building has back-up power. He wonders if Pavel has foreseen this tactic and taken preventive measures. He wonders how thoroughly the younger man is cursed -- and how different he'll be. ]

[ (He wonders why he thought he could be free of cryptonyms, subterfuge and threats, when they're all but tattooed into his DNA by now.) ]

[ Masked, armed, he slinks in the dark, just another shadow. On watch for his acquaintance-turned-liability. ]

[Of course it's a setup--a setup that leads to an empty warehouse. Pavel's device is on the ground.

But Chekov isn't far away. There's a smaller building next to the warehouse--smaller, easily powered by a generator, easily monitored, one entrance and exit. It's low-tech, but it's unwise to rely on electronics when dealing with an enemy who can harness electricity.

An idiot could follow the trail from the abandoned device to Chekov's actual location. He's waiting in the smaller building, alert and well-armed, wearing sturdy rubber gloves, boots, and a Kevlar vest. The only visible weapon is a phaser held loosely in his right hand, but it's certainly not the only one he has on his person. The generator is out of sight (there's a backroom, inaccessible from the outside, behind him) and any device he might have to transmit Hei's secret is similarly hidden.

Korra is also present, paralyzed and propped up against the wall by Chekov.]

[She focuses on her breathing, using the same meditation technique that she had when Tarrlok had trapped her in that container.

In. Out. In. Out. Pay attention to her breath, how it fills her chest, the oxygen running through her blood, so that her mind has no room to panic. There is no Amon, no Tarrlok, nobody bloodbending her. There is only her breath.]

[ Cute. A breadcrumb trail. Hei deals with the unusual everyday as part of his lifestyle; this is the opposite. Tedious and predictable in a way that reminds him of unearthing Matryoshka dolls, on and on into pointless infinity. It does, however, offer him a feel of the opponent (irritant) he's dealing with. Doesn't take much info to create a package, after all. ]

[ Someone confident. Ready to play around. Too bad Hei is never in the mood for games. ]

[ He makes short work of assessing the perimeter, and narrowing out Pavel in person. He makes an interesting sight. Dressed to the nines, armed to the teeth, clearly anticipating a physical altercation. The shadows are a doppelganger for Hei's coat as he balances, quiet and near-weightless, on the catwalk above Pavel. He's never been one to plunge headfirst into a fray. Not until he knows what that weapon in Pavel's hands can do. ]

[ Spotting Korra, he scowls faintly. She's either a hostage, an accomplice, or a decoy. ]

[ Irrelevant, either way. Hei isn't here to negotiate. ]

[Low-tech, unfortunately, also means that Hei gets in without tripping an alarm. The Academy teaches well, but Starfleet usually fights Klingons--not the most subtle enemies. Preparing for stealthy attacks isn't a priority.

Chekov's not too concerned. He's young enough to have too much confidence in his plans. The biomonitors hidden by his clothes are comforting, too; should Hei kill him, the monitors will automatically send a signal to a remote receiver and Hei-Li's secret will be posted all over the network. Death isn't forever.

He is uncomfortable with Korra's presence. He's not afraid of her. Yes, he didn't drug her as heavily as he could have, but he did take the precaution of tying up her hands and ankles. Not tightly. She could probably snap the ropes if she wasn't suffering from drug-induced paralysis.

It seemed like a fine idea to bring her along as extra insurance, but he's having doubts about Hei's ability to care about anyone enough to so much as hesitate. Pavel wants to shoot the bastard who lied to him and erased his memory; he doesn't have anything against Korra. He addresses her quietly, unaware of Hei but still on guard.]

Do you think that Hei would allow me to kill you?

[Rhetorical question. She can't answer and he has no intention of killing her.]

[Hei? Who in the five nations is Hei?!?]

[ Pavel's loss, BK201's gain. Subtlety and stealth are Hei's purviews; he wields them well and has no qualms about utilizing the edge they give him. Like the battlefield rhyme goes, Who needs the strength of thirty, when you can win by fighting dirty? If it were a contest of minds, he knows Pavel would have the advantage. Brilliant, quick on his feet; he'd outmatch Hei in a simple game of numbers. But Hei has years of experience on the field -- against enemies smarter and stronger. He's adept at handling whatever circumstances throw at him, a wisdom accrued by practice, not theory. ]

[ Poised at his spot, immobile, he listens to Pavel converse (one-sided) with a doped-up Korra. Do you think that Hei would allow me to kill you? Except Korra has no idea who 'Hei' is. As to the question? 95% likely. Everyone is expendable in the name of self-preservation. Teammates. Friends. Flings. Pai was his exception -- and Yin, to a certain extent. But the City has its own set of rules. No one dies here. Death, like talk, is cheap. ]

[ (It does confirm, though, that Korra is just a bargaining chip. ((But it's just as likely the whole thing is staged -- after a lifetime of battling sociopaths, nothing can be taken at face-value.)) ]

[ A quick sweep determines the placement of Hei's opponent, his surroundings. He inks a mental blueprint of future actions. Quick as a flash, he whips a blade from his coat, flinging it at a pile of crates at the far-corner. With a craaaack, the wood shatters. A ruse to startle Chekov, distract him, perhaps have him shoot with his phaser. ]

[ Time to see what both the boy and weapon can do. ]

[Practice, practical application--that's something that Chekov hasn't had a chance to gain. Even during the battle with Nero, he had very little to do with the execution of plans, even those that he thought of. Everything is numbers, calculations, and textbook examples. Pavel hasn't even shot anyone before.

And he's no sociopath and, even cursed, not one to cheat. Victory doesn't count if it's not achieved honestly.

In spite of his lack of field experience, Chekov doesn't jump. He's too ready for something to happen to be surprised. The noise was too loud to be anything but a distraction; determining where the person who created that distraction is a simple calculation. He glances up at Hei, phaser still at the ready but not aimed.]

Hello, Li.

[His left hand twitches almost imperceptibly, but someone as observant and experienced as Hei will notice. Pavel's itching to reach for another weapon--concealed, likely small. His tone, however, is amiable enough.]

[Korra's eyes follow Chekov's to Hei's location. A small portion of her mind makes the connection between Hei and Li, understands that they're the same person.

The rest of her is drowning in terror. No amount of meditation could help, even if she were better at it. Yesterday's curse had ripped open a wound that had only begun to heal, and now she's reliving it.

The mask.

The inability to move.

The helplessness. She can feel tears running down her cheeks and she can't hold them back, can't even raise her hands to wipe them away.]

[ There's no such phenomenon as an honest victory in Hei's world. Prowess in combat is always an ace in the hole, but it has very little to do with the Rules of Engagement. Because there are none. Believing otherwise is the fastest way to get your brains blown into a fine pink mist. He deals with enemies who aren't interested in fighting and they won't give a contender a chance to prove how good he or she is. ]

[ They only want to win. By any means necessary. Hei is no exception. ]

[ When Pavel zeroes in on his location, he doesn't react with surprise or dismay. He simply reworks his strategy; refreshes his snapshot of Pavel. Cursed but still clever, with an analytic mind, an ability to second-guess. A Contractor's thought-process. But with a body and a combat-range unsuited for the brutalities of wetwork. ]

[ He keeps his eyes on the phaser. Catches that telltale twitch of Pavel's free hand. (A secondary firearm; he's come prepared.) In a smooth movement, Hei unfolds himself from the catwalk. Lands, cat-light, at an angle from Pavel. Both hands up in a seemingly peaceable gesture. Unarmed. (Except Hei can do so much damage without hands or weapons -- Careful, careful...) From the corner of his eye, he spots the tears in Korra's eyes. If Hei were capable of sympathy, he'd feel a fragment right now. Another one tangled up in his business, a fly in a web. If the City allowed it, he'd put her out of her misery himself. ]

[ But his focus is on Pavel. ] What do you want? [ Flat and cold, as if he has no patience for mental pall-mall. Except he's playing it to a T. Closing in space. Narrowing in on openings. ]

[Pavel and Hei will never be playing the same game, no matter what curses are in play.

When Hei lands, the phaser comes up, aimed squarely at his chest. Chekov doesn't notice Korra; she's behind him and his full attention is on his opponent. He knows that he's physically outmatched. This isn't a good time to be distracted, especially with Hei cooperating. It can't be that simple, not from what Chekov has learned.]

I want you to take off your mask so I can see your expression when I kill you. That is all. [He can match Hei for coldness if that's what is expected in this situation.] Kill me first and all three of your aliases will automatically be posted to the network.

[ Hei's stance remains firm, his upraised hands steady. No indication of nervousness or impending violence. He lets Chekov spell his demands out; lull the opponent into security, give him rope, let him feel in charge. The illusion is intoxicating enough for most to loosen guards and miscalculate aims. But he knows Pavel isn't stupid. He's sure the younger man guesses Hei has something in the works. He just doesn't know what. ]

[ All the better. Anticipation and uncertainty are perfect blood-sucking leeches on a confident exterior. ]

All right. [ Without inflection, but that's just the norm for Hei. Part of him is amused Pavel wants to see his face. You could peel Hei's skin and muscle from his skull, leave it shiny and white and grinning, but it still wouldn't reveal anything of his true self. The Syndicate bled all such excess out of him as a child. ] Taking the mask off. Two fingers of both hands.

[ He does so in a measured one-two. But from Pavel's vantage, it's impossible to see the blade concealed in a spring-loaded sheath under Hei's sleeve. While he lowers the mask in his left hand, the right moves, bullet-fast, a shiv whizzing right for Pavel's gun-hand. It's an elementary ploy. Take out the hands. Damaged fingers can't pull triggers, can't grip blades, can't throw suckerpunches. Hei is kind enough to do so, in this case. ]

[ Usually he goes right for the jugular. ]

[There won't be any relaxing until Chekov has the satisfaction of seeing Hei die (that his mask only conceals layers of masks doesn't occur to him; if it had, there would have been no demands). The phaser remains steady and centered on Hei as he begins to remove the mask.

Pavel expected something, but not even expectation and quick reflexes make it possible to avoid the shiv. He yelps in pain and drops the phaser, instinctively hunching over to protect his injured hand--

--While his left hand retrieves a knife and his foot sends the dropped phaser skittering backwards along the rough concrete, well out of Hei's reach. He has a second phaser, but they're not the best weapons in close quarters unless the user is strong enough to use it as a club. Chekov doesn't fall back or advance, but he's ready now, posture more defensive, knife hand out of easy striking distance.]

[ Hei watches the phaser slide beyond reach. But his mind is centered now, unnecessary stimuli cut off, gaze fixed on the knife. Blades are his expertise, his weapon of choice. He has a wide array concealed in his coat. But he has no intention of clowning around in a knife-fight. This has carried on far enough. Silently, he aligns his muscles to move at the next opportune moment, coiled yet relaxed like a snake pre-strike. In his head he's already calculating trajectories, angles, ranges -- the process automatic and as fast as a firing synapse. ]

[ Chekov won't see much before Hei darts in -- rumpled hair and eyes like ice -- to hit vital points. He's playing for keeps, no lenience, the the heel of his palm aiming for the ribs above Pavel's heart. ]

[That is, in part, expected, and Chekov can guess the trajectory of a moving object just as well as--well, perhaps as well as Hei.

There's no time to plan. Pavel throws himself out of Hei's path, taking the brunt of the impact with his right arm. He lashes out with his knife, knowing full well that he doesn't have the luxury of a calculated strike. All he can hope for now is blood.]

[ Hei could evade that hasty slash of Pavel's knife. It would be easy, an effortless dodge-twist-drop. All a matter of ingrained pathways; speed like his doesn't happen by accident. Instead Hei opts to ride out the momentum, angling his body only so that the strike doesn't do any serious damage. He feels the blade graze his arm, fabric ripping, blood seeping, but pain is nothing new to him. He doesn't falter, but follows through with the path of movement he's already on, the impact of his open-palmed strike to Pavel's body enough to knock the wind out of him, to send him staggering. ]

[ A small mercy. ]

[ He could just as easily have hit with a fatal thumb-strike to the throat, or a concussive hammerfist to the face. ]

[Chekov is clever enough to know when he's outmatched; that moment of realization comes just before the blow that sends him reeling.

The knife is a lost cause. Pavel hits the ground, breathless, and grabs his second phaser in a final attempt to leave Hei with more than a scratch to remember this brief fight by. He fires, widebeam--not as effective as a concentrated beam and not deadly, but it covers more ground and is, therefore, more likely to at least give Hei a nasty burn.]

[ The fallen knife and the appearance of Pavel's hidden phaser are what Hei was counting on. He's already dropped his body into a roll, the heat of the blast whizzing by. He feels the seeping heat; there's an undernote of burnt fabric -- but not skin. By the time he's spun clear, to his knees, a blade is uncovered and in his left hand. Hei offers no warning before he strikes out, lightning-fast and going for broke, for angles meant to kill. With the hilt of his weapon, he knocks the phaser from Pavel's hand, having had fucking enough of being shot at. ]

[ And, in the same blink, brings down his arm, steel flashing for Pavel's throat. ]

[Hei is too quick, too experienced, too cold-blooded for Chekov--even a cursed Chekov with inverted morals. Morality alone doesn't alter foolish expectations regarding the rules of battle or make up for a lack of experience and excess of unchallenged self-confidence.

Pavel's brain operates faster than his body. The second phaser is gone and Hei's knife is not going to miss. He can determine this, but he doesn't have time to dodge or even roll far enough to avoid an involuntary neck-dissection. It's not a complete defeat, although Chekov had hoped to fare better; as soon as his heart stops, the network will know all three of Hei's names. Everyone will know that he's little more than a killing machine, unfeeling and manipulative. He has far more faith in his biomonitor relay than in his fighting skills; there's no way for Hei, as fast and clever as he is, to stop the feed.

And Chekov knows that he will come back, intact and wiser.

Next time, he won't bother with courtesies or ask Hei to remove his mask.]

[Korra has been watching the fight without really seeing it, immersed in her own private hell. But the sight of Hei's knife heading for Chekov's throat yanks her back to reality. She can't let him kill Chekov, not because of some stupid curse. They're friends.]

No!

[Her voice is weak and hoarse, but it means her limbs are finally back under her control (more or less). She rolls quickly and kicks Chekov's feet out from under him, knocking him to the ground. At the same time, she puts her tied hands in the way of Hei's knife. He'll probably cut her, but it'll be worth it to cut the ropes around her hands.]

[ Next time: a redundant word in Hei's vocabulary. He doesn't operate on eventualities that he can eliminate right up front. Why bother? There'll be no next time if you wipe out the issue now. And even then, in a City with no death, if this threat recurs, he won't show the same clemency. Others wouldn't regard his actions as clement at all -- but they're the type that draw blood, not the ones that put you six feet under. ]

[ That makes all the difference. ]

[ He isn't aware of Pavel's biomonitors or the risk they pose. The arc of his blade is one-track, like Hei's vision. When Korra swings in, it's unexpected. He hears her No, but it doesn't matter. He's roused now, deadly and in motion, and once in motion, how very hard it is to consider stopping. It'd be easy to cut her to pieces, then finish off Chekov. If Hei were partial to guns, he wouldn't hesitate shooting a hole through her to blow a bigger one into her friend. But something in the pitch of her voice -- something in her eyes -- ]

[ For a second, he's back in Tokyo, palm on Amber's forehead, summoning the death-charge to fry her alive. And he hears Pai's voice looping through his head. Protest and plea in the same breath: Brother. No! That cry cuts off all violence like closing a lid. Hei isn't a vocal man, but even so, a frustrated Motherfucker rips through him. The blade stops in mid-air. Inches from slashing Korra's wrists. ]

[ But his eyes, fixed on her, are sharp as scalpels. ]

Get out of my way.

[He didn't stab her -- that's good. She cuts the ropes around her wrists herself, and reaches down to untie her ankles, but her eyes never leave his. In this moment, right now, he reminds her of a wolf. His eyes are cold, inhuman, and hungry. With wolves, it was important not to show weakness -- weakness means you're prey. But you had to be submissive at the same time, not challenging their authority unless you're sure you can win.

She keeps her movements slow, non-threatening, as she unties her ankles and stands to face him.]

He's cursed. Killing him isn't going to solve anything.

[ Hei swears under his breath again (it's a combination of Mandarin, Portuguese and general vulgarism that would be indistinguishable to the ordinary ear). He has to shake off that buzz of deja vu, a sense of This has happened before, this will happen again. His eyes cut from Korra (untied, uncursed, not a threat) to Chekov (untied, cursed, definitely a threat). He grits his teeth and exhales, releases his frustration, letting it float up towards the ozone. ]

[ He's no longer in Kill-Mode. That switch has been deactivated. But while the bloodlust is gone, the cold fury in his bloodstream isn't. He keeps the blade at hand, gaze on Chekov, dissecting and dismembering. He won't kill him. But he will tie him down. To Korra, he says only, ]

Do that again, and I'll make a matched pair.

[ Just a warning of how very reckless she was. How very lucky she is. Without another glance, he brushes past her, to secure his still-cursed quarry. ]

[Not dying was very surprising. That Korra was the reason for the lack of dying... that's not something he can explain rationally, but emotional attachments encourage people to do illogical things. Chekov doesn't dwell on it; while Hei and Korra are talking, he's busy catching his breath and digging Plan C out of his sleeve. He shouldn't have put it up his left sleeve. Retrieving it with three broken fingers hurts like hell.

And then Hei is coming for him. Pavel transfers a small silver box--a remote trigger that he rigged should he have an opportunity to reveal Hei's identity without dying--to his left hand. All of his previous confidence is gone, replaced with desperation.]

Stop. Come near me and I make the post.

[Reckless and lucky. Those are the two words that define Korra's life. She watches him release the tension into the air, the wolf-look leave his eyes. Whatever he has planned, Chekov should be fine. Her limbs start shaking as the adrenaline leaves her system. No, not yet! She can't afford to collapse yet.

Chekov's voice catches her attention, giving her another boost of adrenaline. A small part of her is absurdly grateful, and the rest of her is just fucking pissed off. It's been a bad day. It's been a bad weekend. It's been a bad fucking week. The anger too helps keep her standing, and helps her lash out at Chekov. She's closer to him than Hei is, can get to him first.

She slams his wrist, knocking the trigger out of his hands; in the next breath, she slams the back of his neck, knocking him to the ground (and possibly unconscious).]

SHUT UP, CHEKOV.

action / audio / needlessly complicated

action; <3

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

Re: action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

Re: action;

action;