redshiftrp | video; @Qubit

Entry tags:

video; @Qubit

[ Though Qubit generally prefers text, he's found that for whatever reason, people seem to think he's more sincere when he uses video. So he goes with that - you only get one first impression. ]

Good morning, Anchor. You may have noticed a grocery store, of all things, has appeared just outside the main airlock... Ah. I'm Qubit, by the way, should have led with that. Anyways, I've taken the liberty of scouting the place out, and I have good news and bad news.

Good news - near as I can tell, the food's still fresh. Bad news - that's more than I can say for the customers. If you do go, don't go alone, and be ready to defend yourself. It turns out the place has a bit of an undead problem.

[ He shrugs, as if to say "because of course it does." ]

On the plus side, the radiation levels are rather lower than I expected. I'd still recommend suiting up if you can, but you should be all right provided you don't - aah!!

[ As he was talking, something whirred in the background, and now a laser bolt hits the wall not a foot from his head. Startled, he drops the comm, but his voice can be heard receding in the background. ]

Son of a bi- [ the feed ends. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Thank goodness Qubit is there, or Carlisle would have been beyond ornery. He doesn't look like he's the cheeriest person in the world as it is, what with the layers upon layers of clothing covering up nearly every inch of him, save for his tired, glowing eyes. He recognizes the man from the video and makes his way over, one hand along the wall as though stepping too far from it would be uncomfortable.]

Mister Qubit. I'm pleased to see you relatively alive, unlike those we'll be dealing with this day.

[ Qubit recognizes the voice, and... it's not at all what he expected. (He may or may not have just been picturing an Aziraphale type.) He raises an eyebrow as he sizes him up, because that sure is An Outfit. Not any style he's familiar with, but it's got sort of a medieval flair, or... no, it's more Tolkeinesque, isn't it? Why the full coverage? Religious reasons? Or, as he approaches closer - ah. Facial disfigurement? He's not entirely sure, but in any case he knows better than to ask.

Ironically, the glowing eyes are the least unusual part of the look.

Qubit nods, resting one hand behind his back. ] Mr. Longinmouth, I presume. Mind if I call you Carlisle?

Carlisle will be fine. I am aware my name can be a bit much.

[And aside from a polite dip of his head, that's all the time he gives to introductions -- no handshake or anything. Given the way he's wearing gloves in addition to the rest of his getup, chances are he's not big on physical contact as it is.]

Have you dealt with the undead prior to this place, Mister Qubit?

[ Fortunately, Qubit makes no attempt at a handshake, either. In fact, the lack of one is a pleasant surprise to him. It might just be a cultural thing on Carlisle's part, but he'll take what he can get. ]

A handful of times. [ The Jackson plague comes to mind... those poor children. ] But not enough to call myself an expert, by any means. You said it's something like your job, wasn't it?

It was a part of it, as I was clergy in service of the Clarity. Even were I not, my home was, unfortunately, no stranger to the threat of undeath. I would be familiar with methods of dispatching them regardless.

[He gestures for Qubit to lead the way.]

[ A priest, huh? Qubit's not familiar with the deity or religion or whatever that "the Clarity" refers to, but that doesn't surprise him. He is familiar with the trope of priests being super effective against the undead, though, like anyone who's ever seen a horror movie. ]

That's good to hear. The only thing I've tried so far is blunt force, so your methods can hardly be any less efficient.

[ He leads the way into the airlock, takes down a radiation suit and starts pulling it on over his clothing, motioning for Carlisle to do the same. ]

Go ahead and grab a suit. The radiation levels in the store aren't too high, but you'll still want to limit your exposure.

[Carlisle's gaze goes from Qubit to the suit in his hands, then to one of the spares along the wall waiting for him. His brow knits, his posture tightening as his eyes flick back to his companion.]

Radiation levels?

[ He pauses. Oh, right. Dude doesn't know science. It's a huge pain, because he both hates and is absolutely terrible at dumbing things down. He's the kind of guy who would be banned from ELI5. But he'll try, Carlisle, just for you. ]

Yes. It's... [ he sighs, struggling to find sufficiently accessible phrasing. ] I'm vastly oversimplifying here. There's a form of electromagnetic radiation - it's light, essentially, but with frequencies orders of magnitude higher than the visible spectrum - extremely high-energy, such that exposure beyond a certain threshold causes serious tissue damage. Burns, GI distress, cancer, death. The whole nine yards.

[ He's gesticulating more and more as he rambles, and makes a sort of backtracking gesture at this point. He knows he found some first grade words in that salad, now to just... string them together for the audience at home. ]

It is... light. Invisible, poisonous light. And outside the station, it's everywhere. Does that make sense?

[Carlisle feels his ignorance clawing at the back of his neck, riled by Qubit's exasperated sigh. He doesn't recognize some of those terms, but the ones he does paint a clear enough picture in his head of what this radiation does and why it should be avoided. He still has some questions though, ones he lays out as assumptions as he slowly sets his satchel aside and gets a suit for himself, trying to figure out just how it will fit over all his layers.]

So... it has little to no effect on the undead, I assume. Unless their tissues can be damaged further.

Edited 2019-09-09 05:15 (UTC)

[ He actually understood some of that? Oh, thank God. Qubit pauses, pondering that. ]

... You know, I've never tested it. It certainly can't help matters. But I can't see it being the sort of damage they'd care about, no. It's mostly a problem for things that need to stay alive.

Ah.

[He looks back to the suit, wanting very much to pretend that he still fits into the category of "things that need to stay alive." He may not technically be alive anymore, but that doesn't mean he's eager to cause further damage to his ruined body -- or give off any indication that he's anything but alive as one can be. With stiff, methodical movements, he manages to get the suit over his various pieces, carefully tucking his coat into the legs and making sure his mask stays in place as he draws it up around his neck.

The hood is, unfortunately, another problem, as it barely goes over the points of his crown. Hm.]

You're, ah. You are right, of course. Most undeads tend to be mindless, and thus would not care for what environmental hazards are present. Were these shamblers? Or anything more cognizant?

[ Qubit finishes suiting up sooner, though his hair doesn't like to cooperate with hoods either. He doesn't envy Carlisle all that thick clothing, though, even once he manages to stuff it into the suit - it can get damn hot inside these things even without that. ]

Just shamblers, as far as I could tell. No coordination, no tactics, just instinctive response to stimuli and blind aggression.

[In good news, Carlisle doesn't seem too bothered by the temperature in the suit. He's not bothered by temperature at all these days. He seems a lot more concerned that the points of his crown will puncture the hood as he finishes zipping it up. He looks a bit awkward, but he's ready to go.]

Good. The less aware they are, the better. It's much easier to corral groups of them if necessary, and far simpler to deal with individuals if they're predictable. Bites can carry infection, assuming their teeth can get through these suits, so it is best to avoid close contact with them, if possible.

[ In fairness, nobody looks good in protective equipment. Qubit nods once. ]

Sounds about right. Well, that's what this is for.

[ And he picks up the gun.

He's got a gun, by the way. I might have completely forgotten to say that? But he very much brought a gun. It looks virtually identical to the laser guns used by the security robots, because he literally pried it off one of the security robots. So I guess it's like... kind of shotgun-sized. But laser-ish.

It was behind his trenchcoat this whole time. Yeah. That's what happened.

He rests the gun, which did not just suddenly appear, on his shoulder. ]

Ready to go?

[Carlisle eyes the weapon, only vaguely recognizing it for what it is, and tenses as though it were a snake that would strike at him if he got too close. Whether it's because it's a weapon or something so advanced technologically goes left unsaid as he picks up his satchel, situating it on his shoulder.]

As ready as I can be, I suppose. Is it a far walk?

Not at all. Less than half a kilometer. [ You know kilometers, right, medieval guy? ]

[ He'll lead the way into the airlock proper, then turn to the controls and punches in whatever's needed to start it. The lights turn red, and a synthesized voice chimes in - "Exit sequence initiated. Please stand clear of the doors." And the inner door slides closed, shutting them inside this tiny room. A sustained hiss follows, as the air pressure equalizes with the outside.

Qubit is completely unconcerned with any of this. ]

[Carlisle, on the other hand, just about panics the second the synthesized voice chimes in; he might have bolted right then and there if the doors behind them hadn't shut right in his face. He backs away from them, his hands shaking as his fingers wrap around the strap of his satchel, limbs pulled to his sides as though making himself smaller would save him. He only then seems to notice that Qubit is completely and utterly unperturbed by all of this -- that alleviates his fear, if only by a fraction.

The doors to the outside open, and he's not sure he likes what's out there any better. The sky is so wide and so vast, stretching endlessly in all directions --

Well, almost endlessly. He can see what he assumes is their destination in the distance. His eyes go from it to the ground, and remain there as he speaks, his voice punctuated by shallow breaths.]

Right. Only a kilometer. Half of one.

[He has no idea how long a kilometer is, but it's visible. That's something.]

Edited 2019-09-11 07:09 (UTC)

[ It's impossible not to notice Carlisle's nervousness. And it's understandable, Qubit supposes, if this is his first experience with any of this stuff. But they're committed now, no chickening out allowed. Anyway, future shit is something the man's going to have to get used to, living here.

On his way out, he gives him an affable pat on the shoulder. ] Chin up, Carlisle, you'll make it.

[ And it really is only a five-minute walk, maybe less at the brisk pace Qubit wants to set (though he won't go too far ahead). The store's incredibly out of place in this alien wasteland, juxtaposed against the red sands and four suns and the hulking form of a wrecked spaceship further off in the haze. Somehow, the channel letters are still lit up (except for the "S"), and only a few of the windows are cracked, though he notices the sand drifts have gotten taller since he came by the other day. ]

I don't suppose they have supermarkets where you're from? [ - he asks offhandedly, as they get close. Even on his Earth, they've only came to prominence in the last century, if memory serves. ]

[With his eyes still locked on the ground -- as they have been the entire walk over -- Carlisle responds, his voice hushed and hurried as though it, too, were trying to hide from the open sky and the burning suns and the stinging sands pelting his radiation suit.]

N- no. No we do not. There are markets, but there is- there is nothing remarkable about them. I would not describe them as s- 'super' in any way.

[As they near the building, he picks up his pace, eager to get inside -- or maybe just to the building itself. He passes Qubit with a few quick steps, pressing a hand to the wall as he reaches it as though to test its tangibility before putting his back to it a second later. He sighs audibly, grateful for its existence -- and for the way it blocks some of his view of the rest of this miserable, barren world.]

[ Qubit waits nearby, keeping an eye on him. Good lord, the poor bastard's nothing but nerves. He'll give Carlisle a moment to collect himself - assuming he'll actually be able to. It could be dicey if he decides to have a panic attack in combat. (Because panic attacks are a thing you decide to have, I guess.) ]

... You going to be all right?

[Carlisle closes his eyes, taking several seconds to piece his composure back together; when he opens them, his gaze is affixed on the ground once more, focusing on it as though it'd anchor him. It's easier to handle what's there rather than what's not. He utters between slow, methodical breaths, his words quick so they'll fit in the gap:]

It's too open.

[Maybe he's reminding himself of that more than explaining it to Qubit, but either way, it does help give him direction that isn't "stay there and stave off panic for as long as possible."]

I'll be fine once inside. After you.

[Just show him the door, and he's ready to bolt.]

[ He's agoraphobic? Well, now Qubit feels a little shitty for inflicting that on him, but there's not much they can do about it now. ]

Ah, sorry. Didn't realize. [ And he'll promptly show him the way to the automatic door. It's actually switched off at the moment - he did that himself, last time, to prevent anything from roaming outside - so he slides it open manually. ] Next time we can take one of the vehicles, if you prefer. Though I'm not sure you'd enjoy that much more...

[ Once they're inside, he pushes the door shut behind them. Welcome to Whole Foods Market! For a mercy, the place still has power, somehow, so at least they won't be fighting zombies in the dark. The lights are on, and some indistinct, tinny music can be heard from overhead. It's some 80s indie track, not a song Qubit knows. ]

[The second Qubit gets that door open (and what a peculiar door it is), Carlisle slides inside, taking another deep breath as his companion closes the entrance behind them. He is equal parts relieved and confused as he reads the letters emblazoned on the wall to himself:]

'Whole Foods Market.'

[His body is still trembling as he takes a gander at the words toward his left, etched near the ceiling above some illuminated shelves:]

'Organic Produce.' As opposed to... hm.

[Deciding he doesn't like the implication of what else there is besides organic produce, he cuts his thoughts off there, instead deciding to answer Qubit's suggestion.]

Right. Vehicles. Let's... consider our exit options once we are done here. I think I'd rather not dwell on our journey, if that's all right with you.

Edited 2019-09-11 22:44 (UTC)

Fine by me. [ Worst comes to worst, he can always wheel you back in a shopping cart, right? ]

It's as opposed to inorganic produce, obviously. The kind made from rocks.

[ That's a joke. Look, he's all for sustainable farming and fair trade, but the ubiquitous "organic" label is nonsense, and what Whole Foods really sells is elitism. He would be even saltier if he knew about the Amazon buyout. The idea of looting the place is oddly cathartic.

But first, zombies! There aren't any right by the door, thankfully, so he slips into one of the checkout lanes to scout out the main aisle, keeping his voice low. ]

Looks like just a couple of them milling around at the deli, on this end. Last time I was here most of them were bunched up toward the back, so that may be the case again.

[Carlisle gives Qubit a scrutinizing look, unsure if that's a joke or a half-truth; his tone says he jests, given Carlisle is an undead who has been dragged into a wasteland of a world filled with terrifying technology, he's not about to make that assumption with 100% certainty.

He looks over Qubit's shoulder, trying to get an eye on the undead for himself. Indeed there are a couple of shamblers at the far end; he moves along the aisles himself, trying to pick out more. He can sense them around with his magic, but all he hears is near-silence, any footsteps largely covered by the music.]

Another over here. And one that seems to have reached from one aisle to the other, only to get stuck.

[He digs into his bag for supplies, pulling out some chalk.]

If there aren't very many, we can deal with them one by one. Otherwise, it might be best to get them all into one area to destroy them with a glyph.

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

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject