video; @Qubit

[superposition]

[ 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. ]

Comments

[abheirrant]

[True as Qubit's assessment of the suits may be, Carlisle still doesn't look pleased to have blood coating one foot, doomed to leave a trail of prints as they investigate the rest of the store. He gives it a shake, but the decaying brain matter remains; he shudders, definitely the more disgusted of the two men.]

It's fine. I suffer only the onset of nausea from having the inside of a shambler's head all over my foot. [And no, he does not want— okay maybe just one paper towel. He takes the roll begrudgingly.] I will admit I was not expecting it to hurt that much. That is abnormal.

[As is he, these days.]

[superposition]

[ Yeah, um, ABOUT THAT. Qubit folds his arms, his expression stern. ]

But you were expecting it to hurt, and it's no great mystery why. Frankly, I'm amazed you didn't vaporize yourself.

[abheirrant]

[Carlisle gives Qubit a look that could cut through glass.]

I'm not sure what you're insinuating. Did you not believe me capable of handling them?

[superposition]

[ Qubit meets his glare head-on. Glass he ain't. He didn't mean to sound quite so dickish about it, but - I mean, this does need to be addressed. ]

No, I did. But I don't need to be an expert in magic to realize how risky that was. That spell you used destroys undead creatures, correct? So somehow, I doubt it was designed to be cast by them.

[ Does he have to spell it out, Carlisle? ]

[abheirrant]

[His glare remains, locked somewhere between apprehensivr and appalled as his shoulders stiffen.]

I am a cleric, Mister Qubit.

[superposition]

[ Qubit says nothing, and doesn't budge. ]

[abheirrant]

[Qubit says nothing, but Carlisle as enough words for both of them, his temper bubbling beneath his skin.]

I have sworn an oath to serve my goddess in any way I can, and it is my duty to rid the mortal plane of such vile abominations. The pain might have caught me off-guard, but I know what I am doing. That is- that is not indicative of anything- of whatever you are suggesting. And such a suggestion is not appreciated, by the way.

[From well over his shoulder, a corpse rises silently. Had that one been alive before? Perhaps he'd just been lying on the floor.]

And furthermore, I will not stand here and allow you to mock me, certainly not after I came out here to help you. Did you even need my help? Or did I traipse through the open wastes for nothing? You're armed enough, aren't you?

[Another undead rounds the corner behind him, her eyes glowing with a faint, sickly light. If zombies can feel ire, she certainly looks the part. A third emerges behind her, then a fourth, all of them drawn toward that spot -- toward the subject of a certain someone's wrath. Carlisle is too wrapped up in his denial to notice their growing numbers, not hearing the shuffling of their approach.]

And now, I've got blood on me! I'm here for all of a day, struggling to adjust to constructs and portals and technology, and when I finally find something familiar, no matter how horrible, look what happens! Say something, damn you!

[superposition]

[ As the rant goes on, Qubit stands his ground. Admittedly, while he knew the undead were some sort of anathema in Carlisle's religion, he didn't realize how extreme it was - but is it, really, or is he just being defensive because Qubit's caught on to him?

In another second, though, the motion behind Carlisle catches his eye. Apparently, all the yelling is drawing more zombies - but wait, something's not right. Carlisle's the only one yelling, and they've already established the shamblers have no interest in him. And these don't - they're advancing, but their empty gazes are fixed on Qubit. Even though he's standing still and staying silent, they're coming for him in particular.

Well, that's alarming. (If it seems like Carlisle's lost his attention midway through, that's because he has.)

Panicking isn't his style, though, analysis is. And something's not adding up. It could be Carlisle's voice attracting them, but why now and not before? Is there some other trigger he's overlooked? And why do they look just as angry at him as...

Oh.

Well, of course.

Rather than responding to any of what Carlisle said - he missed half of it, anyway - Qubit slowly raises his hand and points over the man's shoulder. ]

We've got company.

[abheirrant]

[Carlisle's eyes land on Qubit's finger, and he turns to see just what it is that's more important than his little tirade. He's met with the gazes of no less than nine zombies, some of their pupils a milky white, others aglow with feral, furious energy. Not a single one of them is looking at him -- they all look past him, through him, their attention fully on Qubit.

One lets out a graveled roar, their voice ragged from their ruined vocal chords, and the others react without hesitation. Most are on the slower end, their legs stiff, their feet dragging along the ground as they shuffle toward the pair; at least three of them are much faster, their limbs still flexible enough to allow them to sprint.

And sprint they do, taking off toward Qubit with wild, ravenous ferocity. That's plenty to get Carlisle's priorities in order.]

Glyphs. Glyphs now.

[And with that, he takes off running, despite the fact they're not after him.]

[superposition]

[ Of course, Carlisle's decision to bolt leaves nothing between Qubit and those three fast zombies, and that leaves him no choice but to follow. Fortunately, they're not far from the glyphs, but it's going to be tight. Qubit has to slow as he dashes across it, taking care not to mess up the chalk, and by the time he gets clear and glances back, all three are fully inside the glyph - but in another second, they won't be. ]

Now!

[abheirrant]

[Carlisle is a little less graceful crossing the first glyph, and ruins his linework with his own feet; thankfully, he made four of these, and he clears the second one without trouble, crouching beside it the moment he's on the other side. The back of his tabard hasn't even hit the ground before Qubit comes flying past him, the undead hot on his heels. A moment before they are all within the glyph, Carlisle slams his hand on the arch he's drawn at the top.

The glyph itself takes a second to activate, but the initial reaction is immediate, light pouring into it from Carlisle's point of contact: it fills the lines like an illuminated stream, erupting in a blaze of pure, blinding light once the flow meets itself on the other side. By then, the zombies are all within the confines of the circle, and much like the ones he'd taken out individually, they are left as not much more than ashes by the time the light dies down.

In good news, Carlisle is in much better shape after that one. Seems that the glyph manipulating the type of energy rather than him manually channeling it will have to be his method of dealing with them for now. He gets to his feet, practically giddy with satisfaction as he holds back a laugh.]

It worked!! I mean, I knew it would, but it worked as expected this time and didn't backfire on me in any way. A little draining, but no nasty surprises. And you're not dead. Great. That is great.

[superposition]

[ Okay, that was objectively pretty badass. And it worked! Qubit can't help but smile about that - not only is it a good sign for their mission, but it's a genuine relief to see Carlisle find a workaround so quickly. (He's a little envious, to be honest.)

And also, yes, he does appreciate not being dead. ]

It is! Although I'm biased, of course.

[ Still, they're not out of the woods yet. He points urgently back at the remaining six shamblers, currently shuffling their way through the first glyph. ]

Focus. Only half a dozen to go.

[ Can they reuse this glyph, or do they have to move on? Whatever Carlisle decides, Qubit's ready to follow his lead. ]

[abheirrant]

[Party's over as Carlisle glances the shamblers' way.]

Oh. The rest of them. Right.

[He's not going to say he forgot about them in his terror over being chased by the fastest undeads he's ever seen and subsequent celebration over slaying them, but yeah. He totally forgot about them.

It turns out his glyph can't be used as second time, the lines evaporating away from the floor as though they were written in steam rather than chalk. He steps back across the third one, waiting for Qubit to follow before kneeling beside the contact point. Unfortunately, this pack is significantly slower, and getting them all into the same glyph more troublesome as a result. Carlisle actually stands up and pushes the first one to reach him backward, the undead not even reacting to his touch, more agitated by its fellow undeads as it tumbles into them. Four more go down in that glyph, leaving the slowest ones still coming after them.

Or the slowest one, as one of the remaining pair got his arm caught on a shelf at the end, the corner tearing his sleeve as he struggles against it. He pulls again, and down comes the display on him, sending him and a number of bottles of vinegar smashing into the ground.

Carlisle activates the fourth and final glyph on the shambler that does manage to make it to them, a little wobbly as he straightens up.]

Would you like the honors, or should I dirty my other boot?

[If the looks he gives Qubit says anything, it's to not make him have to dirty his other boot.]

[superposition]

[ Qubit sticks to the plan, baiting the shamblers into the traps with renewed optimism. Yes, yes, excellent work! That allows them to wrap things up quickly and tidily, and with Carlisle not much worse for wear.

It's so satisfying when a plan comes together! Why, it's almost enough to make him forget that Carlisle sicced the damn things on him in the first place. (Almost.)

So that leaves just the one, flailing ineffectually in a puddle of vinegar with his bottom half trapped under the fallen shelving. Easy pickings, fish in a barrel. But he's got a better idea... ]

Actually... come with me.

[ He approaches the final zombie, motioning for Carlisle to follow, and scoping out the area as they go. It seems they've handily cleared out the front of the store with that little stunt, at least. He can see some milling about at the far end of the aisles, but they haven't noticed the commotion up here. Perfect. He stops a few feet outside its reach, turning to Carlisle. ]

Care for a little experiment?

[abheirrant]

[Carlisle gives Qubit a quizzical look, but does as he's told, a little relieved that he may not be stomping in another husk's skull. He gives the zombie a disgusted look as they approach, the fellow thoroughly pinned beneath the shelves and bottles. It'd be a piteous sight if it hadn't happened to such an abhorrent creature.

Not that Carlisle has much room to talk, much to his chagrin. His eyes go from the pinned undead to his companion, wondering where he's going with this. At least they aren't arguing anymore, and Qubit isn't accusing him of... well.]

I suppose it depends on what said experiment is and what it entails.

[superposition]

Well, you said you're imperceptible to them, correct? But I'm not so sure. That last batch was definitely responding to you in some way.

[ And he's got a hypothesis: that Carlisle has some sort of unconscious influence over them, and further, that it's tied to his emotional state. Actually divulging that hypothesis at this point, though, would taint the experiment. On the plus side, this is a much more controlled setting: a single zombie, immobilized, and they've already eliminated whatever others would fall within his sphere of influence. They'll have no better opportunity to try this.

The simplest test: nothing more than replicating a previous observation. Which, in layman's terms, means he'll need to provoke Carlisle again. And he knows exactly what'll do it. ]

I could be wrong, but I assume it's got something to do with your undead state.

[ Which is part of his hypothesis, true, but also possibly the least diplomatic way he could have worded it. ]

[abheirrant]

[Carlisle doesn't like the notion that the undead were responding to him, especially as a man who has never managed to get a purposeful response out of an undead in his life. It's one of the few perks of his affliction, and something that ended up aiding him in his work, both with the church and for hire. It took him far too long to figure out that the best way for him to live up to his family's lineage was to deal with the shamblers that plagued the region himself, just as they would have done. The key difference between someone like himself and his uncles was that he could get close to the undead without provoking them. He didn't need evocation magic or a weapon when he was practically invisible to them. It made his work easy -- almost trivial.

Well, it's not trivial now, and neither is the way Qubit addresses him. True as it may be, he feels his hackles rise immediately, the bait taken wholesale.]

And here I thought we may have more pressing matters than circling back to your insults. I am a cleric, I have an affliction, and you should leave well enough alone.

[superposition]

[ Qubit tilts his head upward, staring derisively down his nose at him. He's hooked; now to reel him in. ]

Leave well enough alone? Your "affliction" has been endangering this mission, and my safety, since the very moment we walked in here. You know this, yet you stubbornly keep refusing to admit it!

[ He is, however, keeping half an eye on how the zombie responds. ]

[abheirrant]

My affliction is none of your business! And I even warned you about it! If anyone is endangering us, it's you just by being here, since you're the one they're interested in.

[Carlisle's tone has fire behind it, and that flame seems stoked in the undead on the floor, who is suddenly filled with more vigor than he had a moment prior. He tries to pull himself out from the shelving, spittle flying as he hisses, but only manages to displace a few of the bottles around him in a vaguely threatening manner. He's not as aggressive as the ones that had come running after them, but he's certainly trying.]

[superposition]

[ Well, now, that's interesting. It was already aggro'd, of course, but the angrier Carlisle gets, the more energy this fellow has, too.

Should he keep pushing it? Even if the complaints he's raising are things that genuinely irritated him, he's not really as upset as he's acting, and he doesn't by any means dislike Carlisle. He feels kind of bad needling him like this for the sake of an experiment.

... Okay. Just a bit more, then he'll call it off. ]

Oh, please. You'd never have made it over here without me.

[abheirrant]

Right. I'd have never 'made it over here without you' because without you, I wouldn't be out here in the first place.

[On the floor, the zombie keeps hissing and writhing, making more of a mess as it pushes the bottles around -- and also noise, enough that it draws Carlisle's attention. Undeads interrupted their first argument, and now Qubit has the gall to accuse him of endangering them -- which he did by knocking over the walnut stand, but that has nothing to do with his current state or what he was and they are not talking about this. They're arguing again, only for another zombie to be making a racket. Carlisle growls himself, roaring at the trapped shambler as he fails to stifle his rising temper.]

Oh, would you be quiet!

[And with that, he kicks a bottle that rolled close to his foot in the trapped zombie's direction, but rather that alleviating some of his anger by watching the vinegar slam into the undead's rotten face, all he ends up doing is sending the container spinning across the floor, injuring his own toe in the process. The radiation suit and his boots beneath do nothing to insulate his frame; he lets out a yelp (and four or five colloquial swears), grabbing at his foot to soothe the dull ache.

Whether or not that, too, affects the zombie goes unseen, as his lower half is hidden by the shelving; his only reaction is a visible twitch.]

[superposition]

[ Which is too bad, a zombie trying to hop on one foot would have been hilarious. Oh well.

As if flipping a switch, Qubit abruptly drops the argument completely - along with all pretense of being angry - and shifts his focus to the zombie, crouching to get a better look at it. SCIENCE: ON. ]

Just as I thought. It's your anger, Carlisle. That's what they were reacting to!

[abheirrant]

[Qubit goes into science mode; meanwhile, the zombie is still furiously trying to grab him, his fingers oozing as they press against the tiled floor, the skin at his back ripping as he literally tears himself apart to try to reach his prey. As far Carlisle, he's still angry, now with a dash of confused and incredulous.]

I'm sorry, what?

[superposition]

[ Ha ha! Wow, that's disgusting. And yet fascinating. Like a train wreck, but with zombies! Which I guess is just the plot of Resident Evil 0. ]

Look at this. It's taking itself to pieces trying to get to me. I've never seen one so aggressive...!

[ He leans in a hair closer than he should, and a swipe of those oozing fingers misses him by like two inches, making him jump. And then scoot back a skosh. ]

[abheirrant]

[Qubit scoots back, and Carlisle takes a step forward, putting a foot between his companion and the undead. He's doing his best not to focus on the organs starting to leak from the undead's side, and thinking about how much worse that is than the rotting brain matter still clinging to his boot.

What is definitely the worst is where the conclusion of this experiment seems to be leading. Fear starts ebbing into the former clergyman's tone.]

Of course it's aggressive! It's an undead! They are mindless, feral creatures of endless hunger, and you're dangling yourself in front of it like a scrap of meat!