deernet | [Transmission 07] [July 2nd]

Entry tags:

[Transmission 07] [July 2nd]

[CW: Judgement, blood, character death, traumatized Omen]

[The link sparks with red and white static as the view pulls away from a particularly heavy-looking wood door studded with nails, though as the view continues pulling back, it shows a gothic-looking structure that blends in with the rest of the buildings nearby. Only a muffled chorus of screams and yowls reveals what place this is. Just in the peripheral, one can glimpse someone's ear and a bit of a blond, short-trimmed sideburn as well as a bit of open white shirt collar.]

You're in a mood, boss. [Cypher speaks up first, and the viewer may realize they're seeing through the Omen's eyes as they sit on "the boss's" shoulder, looking backward.] That last case get to you?

Cases don't 'get to me'. You should know this by now.

[The view shifts and Cypher turns to look full on at the side Wesker's head as the Sleeper strides on through the streets.]

Maybe goin' to the seaside would 'elp. Ye told me you never went much and yer likin' it, since yer lived near moun'ains so much.

May this walk be a moment of quiet contemplation this night?

Awl right.

[They emerge into a small square with a number of Lumenwood flower beds. He passes by them. running one gloved hand over the flowers with an oddly tender touch.]

[The view seems to flex, for lack of a better way to phrase it. Then a huge figure in armor stands there, its form filling the view. Wesker takes several slow steps backward, the view angling up as Cypher seems to crane their neck to get a better view.]

Oh bollocks..

Oh God damn me... [There might be the tiniest note of panic in Wesker's voice]
.

Indeed.

[The view shifts, jostles, confused movement among the flower beds and pattering footsteps on cobblestones. A metal on leather rustle and something flashes in the darkness. A loud gasp suddenly cut off by a wet, meaty splat, and the sound of something bouncing wetly.]

[The view turns back, giving a low angle on someone sprawled awkwardly on their back, minus their head, greenish blood spraying from their severed neck

Oh Gawd, Boss.... [The sorrow and fear in Cypher's voice are palpable,]

((OOC: One can approach this as either a transmission they've witnessed or they can come upon this scene

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Just a concerned sleeper.

[The blood light from D's eyes makes the entire area in front of and around him seem much more sinister. There's a bit of an unnatural chill in the air as well, very out of place in the heat of summer.]

You were waiting for these people?

Fair enough. 'e can use the concern. [The Omen sounds completely unfazed by anything about D, even comfortable without flippancy or carelessness.]

[The Blood Ministers might take a collective small step back. The shortest burbles nervously and hides behind the tallest, who turns their beak toward them with a sigh.]

My boss's colleagues. 'E's got an arrangement with 'em: anything 'appens to him, they salvage the organs, if not the blood.

['Dr. Winters would prefer it that way,' the tallest of the masked Blood Ministers says, but does not step forward, not at the moment.]

[D is very reluctant to pass up the opportunity to collect sleeper ink.]

I have no interest in that, only the sleeper ink and seeing that nothing untoward happens to him while he's a squid once more.

[They would probably regenerate from being killed even as a freshly reformed squid, but he can still imagine unpleasant scenarios that don't involve death. Sleepers are welcomed for now, but D doesn't trust that to last indefinitely and the first hostile moves may not be obvious ones.]

[The Omen looks to the Blood Ministers, lifting one paw and tipping it toward D.]

You lot 'eard the Sleeper. It's the ink 'e needs.

['Fair enough', the tallest Blood Minister notes. 'His squid form hasn't manifested, but it will soon.'

[The shortest Blood Minister looks away, then points to a spot about twenty feet away. 'There. He's starting to emerge.']

[If D looks where she points, he'll spy the Sleeper's head, laying on its side, black tendrils starting to emerge from the stump of his neck, a faint reddish glow following it.]

[It's not quite what D expected, but he reluctantly leaves the body to approach the beginning of the squid emerging. A bit callous, perhaps, to profit off the death of someone he doesn't know, but that has been D's career for a long time.

This is gentler than killing people for hire. All he needs to do is collect ink and see that the squid returns to the sea.]

[The squid flares its tendrils, eyes literally blazing, mouth parts working irritably.]

[Behind D, the Blood Ministers set to work, unbuttoning the corpse's clothing, talking softly among themselves as they cut into body: "That scar facilitates the process." - "Whose Mark is this?" - "Heart's still beating. What do we do with it?"" - "Leierman, do you want it?" - "Don't talk like that. There's a donor in need of a new one."]

[The squid's eyes might roll toward the group, and some ink starts to drip from the mouth parts as it braces to spit some ink.]

[Despite a previous lack of familiarity with squid and their body language, D gets the feeling the squid is very displeased with the treatment its previous corpse is receiving. Perhaps some hold-over from his new existence as a sleeper squid?

This might not be a very pleasing arrangement for the sleeper, but one taken out of unfortunate necessity. Either way, it isn't D's business. He's just here for the ink.]

["The lungs on this fellow." - "Kidneys are clean." - "You'll need to drain the bladder first." - "Well. He wasn't compensating for anything." The shortest of the Blood Ministers hunches their shoulders and looks away.]

[The squid raises its mouthpiece and spits ink in the direction of the shortest Blood Minister, missing them. This gets the attention of the other Blood Ministers, who look in the general direction of D and the Squid. "Having a little trouble over there?" the senior-sounding Blood Minister says.]

[D is irritated with the casual nature of the blood ministers, but corpse traders aren't a mystery where he's from either and it's not always animals they trade in.

He crouches down to handle the little squid and pull a small bottle out. D is here for the ink after all, and the sleeper's omen isn't hostile to the blood ministers.]

Regretting your choices? You'll have to do something about it when you remember how to be a man and not a squid.

[His words are soft enough that they don't carry to the people cutting open and harvesting the corpse.]

[The Omen turns from watching the Blood Ministers at work.]

If it's any 'elp, 'e was already reconsidering the things in 'is past, and he was turning over a few new leaves. 'Pears the Reckoning didn't fink he'd turned over enough.

[The squid might flare its tentacles slightly, showing its slightly spiny underside and turning its eyes toward D, but it allows him to approach, not trying to escape or retreat deeper into the head. The mouthparts relax slightly, but only for a moment as they start pulsing again, preparatory to inking.]

[D is ready this time for the ink. He can catch and deflect bullets, a bit of ink is no problem in comparison.]

Thoughts are not actions. I doubt Reckoning will care until amends are made one way or another.

[D had suffered her mark at the start of the month and allowed himself to punished to cleanse it. He hasn't had any trouble with her since.]

[The Squid renders its ink willingly, slowly at first, then more steadily, much easier to collect.]

Oh, 'e's been doin' 'is level best to follow a more beneficial path, but he'd argue it's 'ard for a tiger to live as a 'ousecat. Fing is, 'e didn't exac'ly 'ave clean hands in 'is world of origin, and 'e ain't the most repentant of that. 'e'd argue out of necessity or some metaphor about crackin' eegs for an omelet. Guess she 'as a different take on omelets. [A joke that probably didn't land well. The Omen spreads its paws in a vast shrug.] I don't judge 'is past. I just keep it in memory. What 'e does 'ere, well, that's somefing else.

[D has done some unusual things, but collecting Sleeper ink is a strange reminder that he himself is a squid.]

A person isn't as limited as a tiger or a housecat, but it can be hard to adapt to a new way of life.

[Whatever it was he had done wasn't D's business, particularly the stuff not of this world. D had seen many memories, many of them unpleasant, and he has seen far worse in person.]

[The Squid obliges quietly, though after a minute or two, it stops, its tentacles shifting, almost tired.]

Aye, 'e's adapted to a point, been nuffing if not versatile: it's 'ow he's gotten by as long as he has. Got little patience for them who won't adapt. But he's got his habits and 'is pride. We'll say... I've been something close to a conscience for 'um. Though he chooses when to listen to my suggestions and when to brush me off. Sometimes literal-like.

[When ink is no longer forthcoming, D seals the small bottle once more and stands up. He's very glad his omen is even less chatty than he is most of the time.]

Does he have someone to get him back to the sea safely?

Aye, a girl named Luz Noceda, good kid and talented magically. Fink she's inbound to collect 'im. She pinged a moment ago. Been fieldin' calls left an' right.

[The Squid, meanwhile, creeps back inside the head, pulling its tentacles around itself. The Blood Ministers continue collecting what they can salvage from the body. The Omen watches them for a moment before turning back to D, sitting up on their hind legs.]

'E appreciates this. 'E wouldn't want his death to be for nuffin'. I'm Cypher, by the by.

[D nods in acknowledgement. If there's someone on the way he won't worry about the sleeper squid any further.]

I'm D.

I'll make sure this ink is put to something useful.

Wish we could've met under better circumstances, but I s'pose circumstances are always rough 'ere.

[The Omen looks to the head, putting a paw on its brow.]

I suppose it's proper for 'im to introduce 'imself to ye when he returns from the sea. 'E's 'ad many names. We'll see which one 'e gives you. Be warned: 'e's a bit selfish, but only in self-preservation. But 'e will be grateful. No doubt he'll consider 'imself in debt to you for this.

Whatever he calls himself is his own business, and he shouldn't feel like he owes me anything.

I did this because it's useful for me, not out of any altruism or as a favor.

[If anything D would expect payment to be demanded for D benefitting from the sleeper's death, but he's not going to offer payment.]

[The Omen pads over to the head and perches on it, settling down, almost as if keeping watch over it.]

Sounds a lot like 'im, though 'e does have his own weird code of honor, 'specially since he came 'ere. No doubt 'e'll seek you out once 'e's made 'is way back from the sea. You'll be fortunate, should 'e offer his assistance: he's a hard worker at whatever he puts his mind and hands to.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Transmission 07] [July 2nd]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

[CW: Organ harvest and gallows humor.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject