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. ]

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[ 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.

[ Hah. Dumbass zombie's got his top half stuck in the crisps. Okay but for real- ]

I haven't gone close enough for a headcount, but there're at least a few dozen. Could be more in the stockroom. How many can you take out at once?

However many I can fit in the glyph.

[He looks down to the floor, trying to gauge the space, the chalk in his fingers moving as he mentally draws the circle before him. Pushing a few carts out of the way gives him more room; he tries to shove a display, but it doesn't budge. Guess that's all the room he's getting for now.]

Assuming they're all standing—

[He crouches to draw out a wide circle on the floor -- it's more of an oval, and one with a few crooked bits, as his hands are still shaking -- but it'll do.]

As many will fit in there. Ten, maybe twelve. The energy required shouldn't... be a problem.

[Shouldn't. It wouldn't have been before, given he was still alive. However, now he'll be working with a glyph that harnesses the type of magic used to kill undeads, and he is one presently... but he won't actually be in the glyph, so...?

Hm. Maybe he should have considered this before agreeing to come out here. He can curse his lack of foresight and desperate need for any semblance of his old life later. As for now, it's nothing ventured, nothing gained, he supposes.]

[ Qubit puts a hand to his chin, thinking. The tricky thing in that case is the capacity - even if Carlisle can reuse the same glyph multiple times, he's not fully confident he can pull ten without pulling them all. He might be able to bait the ones outside the main cluster in ones and twos, but that's barely more efficient than just sniping them. ]

What if we set up a series of these along this main aisle? Anything that doesn't fit in the first one, you can take out with the second, and so on.

[ Depends on how long they take to set up, though, and how rapidly he can trigger them in succession. And also the zombies might trip over their fallen brethren, if the bodies aren't vaporized... but is that a bug or a feature? ]

[Carlisle glances down the main aisle, trying to picture funneling them through it.]

A novel idea, actually. Granted I can draw them all before we start luring them toward the aisle... and on that note, how are we going to go about baiting them this way?

[He knows the obvious answer, but would vastly prefer not to risk their hides -- or Qubit's hide, rather. He's well aware of how little interest the undead take in him... or how little they used to when he was alive. He can't imagine they'll be any more interested now that he's not.]

[ The obvious answer has also occurred to Qubit, don't worry. ]

They seem to respond to sound, so a loud enough noise ought to get their attention. [ Normally he could just gut a cash register or two and slap together whatever they need, but if he's not careful he could put himself out of commission at the worst possible moment. So he shrugs. ] If we can't find anything suitable, I could always run up and yell at them.

I would prefer my escort in this awful world not risk his life, lest I have to walk myself back to the Anchor. [And they both know how well that would likely go.

His eyes flick to Qubit, a moment of guilt flashing across him.] I... should admit now that they are likely to take no interest in me.

[ Pfft. Well, at least he's honest about his motives.

That admission prompts a raised eyebrow. Why wouldn't they take interest? One noisemaker's as good as another, right? Unless...

He has a pretty strong hunch about the answer, but he asks anyway. ] No? Why's that?

[Annnd he averts his eyes, fumbling with the chalk between his fingers, getting dust on his gloves.]

I cannot say for certain —[well, he could now]— but I have my guesses. I... I have an affliction that is said to taint the aura of the affected, among other things. I believe this makes me imperceptible to them in some way, as when I have neared them before, they paid me no heed. That, or perhaps they thought me not worth the effort.

[But given how mindless they are, he doubts that. At least all of what he says is technically true, even if he leaves out a vital part toward the end. The twice-cursed are said to have an aural taint, and he has been largely ignored by shamblers when faced with them in his work. He finds himself as reluctant to talk about his current status as one of them as he was of his curse when he was alive; however, given their current undertaking and the fact Qubit might be putting himself in danger because of it... well, even he realizes that full disclosure might be best.

Or partial disclosure, in this case. Selective disclosure.]

Edited 2019-09-13 08:00 (UTC)

[ Qubit folds his arms. That explanation conspicuously fails to disprove his hunch - that Carlisle's "affliction" is a bad case of the undeath - and in fact rather supports it. He's dealt with the reanimated dead on a few occasions, and one of those odd truth-in-television details is that, pretty consistently, they recognize or at least ignore members of their own "species."

But he won't press the issue right now. Even if it does turn out Carlisle's a walking corpse or something, what's relevant at the moment is what it means for the plan. ]

All right. So if this goes pear-shaped, you may not be able to draw them off me. [ He takes a more thorough look around, weighing his options. The lone zombie down one of the aisles, apparently noticing him, starts shambling their way; Qubit shoulders his laser gun and aims down the sights at it. ] May not be necessary, though, I think I can stay ahead of this lot. One second.

[ He fires! It does make a sound, but not a loud one, just a reasonable pew pew. It takes two shots to the head to drop the thing - not ideal - but it does drop, and the others don't seem to notice anything amiss. ]

[Carlisle, having been looking elsewhere to examine their options in tandem with Qubit, doesn't see him draw his weapon; the blast may just be a reasonable pew pew, but it's still a surprise for the skittish clergyman. He jumps backwards with all the energy of a spooked cat, but none of the grace, stumbling into the display he'd tried to push earlier. Walnuts from the stand go clattering to the floor, their uneven shapes giving them unpredictable trajectories as they bounce and roll in every direction.

He looks from the walnuts on the floor to the undeads in sight, and only one from the "Organic Produce" section seems to have noticed. No wait, two. Three as another comes out from around one of the aisles. Oh dear.]

Right. I'll draw, you distract.

[With that, he darts to the center aisle and crouches, scribbling with his chalk. In good news, he's well-practiced at writing this particular glyph, and despite the unsteadiness of his hand, it should work. The main problem is he needs to draw several of these, and he's not sure how long it'll be until more undeads notice their presence.]

Edited 2019-09-14 03:20 (UTC)

[ The sudden clattering doesn't startle Qubit as badly as he startled Carlisle, but to be fair, that's a pretty low bar to clear. He whirls to look, but then drops his shoulders, shooting the man an exasperated look. Really? ]

Well, that narrows our options a bit.

[ Nothing for it now, though. He walks briskly toward the three zombies, planning as he goes. Really, all he has to do is keep them out of the way for a minute or two, yeah? That should be fairly easy - as predicted, they're already paying no attention to Carlisle, fixating on Qubit exclusively. He could probably just shoot them, but with only a couple dozen shots and no way to reload, that's best saved for a real emergency.

Before they get too close, he makes up his mind and climbs one of the shelving units. It's a bit tricky in radiation gear, and it's not the most stable perch, but it holds him. Just in time, too; by the time he's situated, the trio of zombies are already congregated around the endcap, snarling ineffectually and swiping upwards at him. ]

That's right, eyes on me. - Or "eye," in your case. [ Since one of them is missing one. ]

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