poly_chromatic | [action/video]

[action]

[Somewhere outside of City Solutions, Chekov is doing what he can to help others escape The Things running about today (or slithering around, as the case may be). Mostly, that involves shooting The Things with one of the laser guns he made when he first entered the City.

That's what he was doing, anyway. The gun has stopped working and Chekov, with his engineering knowledge temporarily traded away, can't get it running again. He's tried pushing buttons, removing and replacing parts, hitting the stupid thing, swearing at it in a variety of languages... and it's not responding. He grudgingly pulls out his network device.]

Derrmo... Pavel, you are an idiot. Trading away knowledge...

[video]

Howl, Sophie. If either of you are home, would you please go into my room and see if--

[A scraping sound. Chekov pauses. Behind him, a manhole cover lifts and is pushed aside by what might have been, in a previous life, a set of hands--gnarled, knuckle bones visible through a glistening coat of slime and rot.

Even as he turns to look, something whips out of the manhole and wraps itself around Chekov's legs. It drags him towards the hole and the grabbing hands. The young man yelps and reaches for the useless gun, but it's too far away. He twists and hits the thing around his legs with the only weapon at hand: his network device.

The picture flickers. The quality of the feed is poor, but a swearing Chekov is visible, halfway down the manhole, holding on to a crack in the cement above ground to prevent the creature from dragging him under. He slams his network device on the ground and--]

[action]

[--disappears from view, a jagged, broken piece of plastic--a remnant of the network device--firmly in hand.

There's nothing for a minute.

Two minutes.

A bloodied hand grasps the rim of the manhole. Chekov hauls himself up onto the relative safety of the cement, filthy and bleeding but very much alive. He has the presence of mind to replace the manhole cover.]

Eto pizdets...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ He affects a sympathetic moue. Assessing, internally, whether the leg is broken above or below-knee. He'll deal with the damage-level and splint it accordingly. Until help arrives. ]

No thanks necessary. [ His gaze drops, sheepish. ] I wouldn't call it brave. I'm terrified of this whole thing. But I can't leave a friend behind. [ Or, more fittingly, 'Li' can't. Cautious, alert for trouble, he draws Chekov off the street. The young man isn't heavy. Hei's hauled denser assault-packs in combat. And bodies of injured comrades to boot. He can handle it. ]

[It's not too hard for someone who knows what to look for to determine that the break is below the knee. It's also not that hard for Chekov to conclude that Li is more than a scholar; the kid might be one of Starfleet's lightest ranking officers, but he weighs more than a textbook.]

You could. It would be much safer to leave. [Not that Chekov wouldn't have done the same thing if their places were reversed.] Li, is there something you have neglected to mention?

[ Above the knee is safer than the alternative. He guides Chekov to a moderately-lit lot. These creatures seem partial to shadows. Hei's been trained to battle in perfect darkness. But he prefers knowing where his enemies are hiding. ] Safer. But not right. [ At Chekov's question, he blinks innocently. ] I can't think of anything. [ Nor, in a moment, will Chekov. Once the coast is clear, Hei fully intends to knock him out with a small electric dose. Chekov won't recall this experience beyond hazy flashes. ]

[ All the better for both parties. ]

Thank you, regardless. [Until he's unconscious, Chekov is going to be asking questions. He's curious. Slightly less coherent and capable of moderating himself than usual, but curious.] How did you become so strong, baking?

[ By the time 'Li's settled Chekov on the floor, back propped against a wall, his round-eyed viz has faded. Very calm and businesslike, he shrugs off his jacket (discreetly transferring the explosives to his jeans). He can use it as padding for the leg, and utilize those nearby wooden boards for straighteners. ]

It's a little complicated. [ Chekov may notice a change in his tone. Cooler, more terse. There are obvious differences in 'Li's speech patterns and Hei's. ] Try not to move.

[Chekov is definitely not struggling to stay conscious; getting knocked out by a pair of hands and a... whatever that was isn't the sort of thing that a Starfleet officer does. He does pick up on a change, however.

Maybe it's just him.]

What are you doing?

Making a splint for your leg. [ He doesn't look up as he works. His hands are steady, practiced. He tears off a length of cloth from his sleeve, tying the splints above and below the fracture. It's a familiar process, one he's competent, if not expert at. Once the ties are secure, he glances up at Chekov. ]

Is that fine? Or too tight?

[ It wouldn't do to have his circulation affected. ]

[Li has clearly been up to more than stargazing and baking. Fortunately, Chekov is too busy trying not to cry like an idiot because that hurts to think about this too deeply.]

Fine. Zaebis... eto-- [No, that's not English.] Li? Where did you learn this?

[ He's doing Chekov a favor by knocking him unconscious. No pain. No confusion. No memory of anything beyond a blurred outline. ]

That doesn't matter. [ The mask slips completely. His eyes, when they meet Chekov's are flat and cold. Matter-of-fact, he reaches out, palm on Chekov's forehead. ] Time to sleep.

[ His outline glows blue, eyes flashing red. The electric shock is a bright and abrupt zzt. Just enough to put the boy out. ]

[Chekov has just enough time to be alarmed... not that he'll remember that when he wakes up.]

[ He'll be waiting here, sweet-faced and derpy, when help arrives. ]

[ Least suspicious person in the vicinity. ]

[action/video]

Manholes~

Manholes~

Manholes~

Manholes~

Manholes~

Manholes~

Manholes~

Manholes~

Re: Manholes~

Manholes~

Manholes~