poly_chromatic | action / audio / needlessly complicated

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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.]

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[ 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.

[ Hei is mid-stride when Chekov pulls out the remote-trigger. His eyes maintain a cold unblinking stare, but part of him is already set off into action -- whip out a wire, snag his wrist, send that stupid device flying. Except Korra gets there first. Convenient. Since she seems to be venting frustration, not contemplating murder, Hei simply picks up and pockets the fallen device. The crisis has passed. All that's left now is to handle the fallout. He makes his way to Chekov. Kneels to put a finger to his neck, check his pulse. He seems unconscious, but it's just as likely he's faking it. ]

[ Hei would rather french-kiss a rattlesnake than exclude all possibilities at this point. ]

[ Steady pulse. Deep breathing. Otherwise unresponsive. Perfect. Hei utilizes the spool of wire in his coat to bind the younger man's wrists and ankles tight. Preventive measures; just in case. Only then does he straighten to regard Korra. She's operating on pure adrenaline. But there'll be an inevitable crash. Hei's not in the frame-of-mind to offer kindness or assurance just yet. Not when this mess is partly his fault. Quietly, he says, ]

Head back home. I'll deal with this.

[ No killing Pavel. But when he regains consciousness, Hei will order him to restore Mao's virus-ridden server. Subject him to a meticulous Third Degree, in case he's left other easter eggs behind. Then dose him in scopolamine and leave him in the park, alongside an anonymous tip to City Police. In addition to hysterics and hallucinations, another effect of the drug will persist long after the surface wildness fades. Pavel's memory of the last two days will be largely erased. ]

[ Beyond figments and fragments, he won't recall anything at all. ]

I'm not leaving him.

[It's not suspicion. She's just not the type of person who can back out in the middle of the story. Leaving now would be too much like quitting.

Besides, Chekov is her friend. She's not leaving him until she knows he's okay.]

[ Hei has climbed down off the ledge of lethal force. But his look is a concrete wall, barbed wire for eyes. He understands her desire to see the situation through. But he knows it's motivated by concern, not practicality. She'd be better off going somewhere quiet and non-reactive, to regain her equilibrium. Dosed in nerves as she is, her mindset is too volatile to handle the interrogation he'll subject Pavel to. The coldness, the questions, the measured doses of violence if he's non-cooperative. ]

[ She's neck-deep in his affairs as it is, ]

Not your choice. He's interfered in other parts of my business. Now he's needed for damage control. [ Kneeling, he scoops Pavel up, slinging him over his shoulder. Meets her gaze calmly, ] I won't kill him.

[ The inflection can easily be interpreted as You have my word. The word of a liar, a killer, isn't much. But hey, beggars, choosers, etc. ]

I said I'm not leaving him.

[He's going to be so scared when he wakes up. Scared and hurt and he's going to need a friend.]

Korra. [ In a tone that owns no patience, that warns her to step down. Not for his sake. Her own. ] The concern does you credit. But waste it on yourself right now. You'll see him when you'll see him.

[ That's as much of an explanation as he's willing to commit to. His legs are already in motion, propelling him and his unconscious passenger away. ]

[Yeah right no way. Where Chekov's going, she's going.

Except her body has decided enough is enough. Her legs give out under her and she tumbles to the ground. She tries to pull herself up, but she can't, and she slams her fist on the ground in frustration. Damn it!]

[ Hei's one idée fixe is dragging Pavel to his Underground safehouse. Cleaning up the detritus the curse has left in its wake. When Korra drops, there's an impulse to check on her. (She's still drugged; it wouldn't do to leave her alone in this shady place). But self-interest overwrites the luxury of concern. ]

[ Maybe later -- if she's still willing to see him -- he'll let all that stymied softness out. ]

[ For now though, he just glances at her, considering. Makes his choice and carries Chekov off. (The slash on his arm is starting to throb. It radiates a pulsebeat that goes I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry if only in his mind). ]

[Don't worry, Hei; she won't be down for long. Mind over matter et al. She'll be down just long enough for him and Chekov to make a clean getaway. She'll crawl home without incident -- lucky again -- and lick her wounds.

Whether she'll see you again after this depends on the condition Chekov is in when they meet again.]

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