mortemscintilla | IC Contact

[(Look, he's not technically a tactical officer in his universe.)

Chekov has yet to reach a level of annoyance that might qualify as "righteous indignation," but he isn't happy--and not wholly on Korra's behalf. Hei has been offered friendship by people who know that Li is just a front (Pavel wouldn't say that he knows Hei, although his look into Mao's server undoubtedly makes him more informed than Korra is) and he refuses to so much as try to be grateful for that. This is the sort of thing that he would usually let slide, but with Sophie and Howl gone...

Hei's not going to get away that easily. Chekov smiles right back.]

I will walk with you.

[ Unfortunately, Hei isn't from a world where an intangibility like friendship holds any weight, much less evokes his gratitude. He exercises it for teammates -- Mao, Yin, Huang. But he considers that loyalty, not friendship. Certainly, he wouldn't be in this business if he valued the opinion of others or depended on them for his sense of self-worth. If you expected to survive and succeed as a Contractor, and to emerge whole from the experience, you had to live in your own culture. (And why not? Everyone does, to an extent.) ]

[ He still doesn't understand why these kids insist on being so chummy with him. But it sparks his suspicion, not his gratitude. ]

All right. [ Balancing his cardboard tray, he shuffles off down the streets. His body-language is friendly, but Pavel likely can't tell that he's being patient, extraordinarily patient, in a way that cannot possibly last. The moment they're in a secluded spot, Hei plans to corner him. ]

[ And ask what the hell he's trying to pull. ]

[And this way of thinking--not trusting anyone fully, not valuing others for who they are rather than what they can provide, living in an emotional vacuum--is not something that Chekov can understand. Rationally, yes, of course; Hei makes all of the sense in the world from the cold, distant perspective of logic. To Pavel, though, that seems like a poor way to live. Even Vulcans allow themselves to develop interpersonal attachments.

Pavel doesn't expect Hei to remain this compliant once they've made their way out of the crowd. He also doesn't know what, precisely, he intends to say, or what the point of talking to Hei really is. It just seems important that it happens.]

I am not inconveniencing you, am I?

[Genial, friendly. Genuine. Chekov isn't very good at being annoyed.]

[ No doubt Hei's worldview seems cold to Pavel. But he has to keep in mind that the people Hei interacts with professionally are no better (worse) than he is. If it weren't for the business connecting them together, they never would've had anything to do with each other in the first place. ]

[ (Despite that, he has developed interpersonal attachments. He has put himself in positions where he was vulnerable to affection and loss. And it was good for awhile, first with his team in South America, then in Tokyo. Both groups were mired in deceit and bloodshed, but the ugliness seemed to wash past them without erosion. Then, each time, something snapped. And in a mad rush, as if an airlock broke, they were all swept apart, and everything went tumbling down the drain, battered and ruined.) ]

[ (Amber is gone. Pai has disintegrated into star-dust. Huang is dead. So is Carmine. Mao's brain is offline. Yin is in constant danger because of her affiliation with Hei. It's entirely too much to digest.) ]

[ He quirks an eyebrow at Pavel's question, pleasantly plastic and neutral, ] No more inconveniencing than a papercut. [ For the record, he isn't lying about that. Halfway down the street, he gestures toward the slightly snow-dusted bench in an empty park. ] Let's stop here. [ That isn't a request. ]

[Attachments are worth making, no matter how vulnerable they may render someone or how unpleasant loss can be. There is nothing--not even more losses of his own--that will convince Chekov otherwise.]

Papercuts can be significant inconveniences. [And he has no doubt that he can be, too, but that's not his problem. Pavel sits on the indicated bench, unbothered by the snow.]

[ Not if what you're left with each time is Could Haves and Should Haves. Even rocks aren't indestructible, and erosion is a subtle killer that wears you down as surely as any explosives. Ultimately, withdrawal becomes an inevitability, even as he senses the futility of such a defense. Less emotion protects nothing. And he already has so little. ]

That depends on how colorful your resume of past injuries is. [ Sitting down beside Pavel, he unpacks the little cardboard box, offering one cup to him (the coffee). Ostensibly it's a companionable gesture, but the goodnatured mien has already slipped away, his mood transitioning from noon to midnight. ] So are you here to lecture me, or punch my face?

[ Either would be a laughable resort. But a small portion of Hei knows it's warranted. ]

[Past injuries? Hei's resume is undoubtedly far more colorful than Pavel's, although he has certainly been adding color to his own since coming to the City.

He briefly wonders if Hei would go to the trouble of poisoning the second cup before heading home. The answer is undoubtedly yes, but not now, and not without good reason. Perhaps Hei would like to shut Chekov up (a sentiment that the young man can appreciate, as he has often wished he was better at shutting up); he would need to be provoked. The coffee isn't the way he would usually take it, but it's hot and caffeinated and that's what matters.]

I thought that I would begin with lecturing and see how it goes. [Pavel has no illusion that he'll affect Hei; maybe he can make himself feel better.] I am inclined to agree with you--that Korra seeing you was a mistake. Why did you need to make her feel as though she was defective somehow? To chase her away?

[ Injuries are the hallmark in a world where violence is the currency and every part of your body is honed to be a weapon. It's not something Hei would view as a pissing-contest, though. A history of of scars -- the How Where When Why -- is rarely worth bragging about. In his world, it's a brand of the graceless. ]

[ The most successful missions are those accomplished without any lasting marks. ]

[ He watches Pavel take the coffee. No, it's not poisoned (although he's not entirely incorrect in suspecting Hei would do such a thing). But it's not a tactic to stall his prattle, either. It's simply to ensure both his hands are where Hei can see them. His own hands are settled in his lap -- one clasped around the cup and the other slipped casually into his jeans pocket. ]

[ At Pavel's last few words -- defective -- something flits across his face. It might be surprise, but it only takes a moment for the blankness to resettle. ]

Screwing with her self-esteem wasn't my intention. [ He knows enough about Korra to understand she already has a flimsy sense of self. So focused on being the Avatar -- whatever that is -- she's still wobbly and unsure when it comes to being Korra. Likewise, he's aware that getting the boot the way she did, anyone's self-image would be rattled-up. Rejection is never a positive feeling. ] But since the brush-off didn't result in her dismemberment or extensive mental trauma, I'm going to give myself a pass.

[ Because dismemberment or trauma would've been the result if he'd persisted in playing that little charade of theirs. ]

Edited 2013-02-20 04:15 (UTC)

[Unlike his morally-reversed counterpart, this Chekov has no intention of reaching for a concealed weapon (although he has one on him simply because bad things tend to happen when he neglects to arm himself). He's unaware of the ploy and Hei's potential surprise goes unnoticed. The cup has Chekov's full attention; confrontation isn't his strong suit, even when he's annoyed.]

What was your intention? [It's difficult to be impartial when thinking about a friend, and more difficult still to question that friend's state of mind to see if her words didn't reflect reality.] You wouldn't really dismember her.

[He doesn't sound completely certain (or as afraid as someone talking to someone they think capable of dismembering others ought to be--there's a disconnect somewhere).]

[ Hei catches the vibrations of uncertainty in the air. He's well aware there's a disconnect. Pavel -- and Korra -- may have acknowledged he's dangerous, a killer, on an intellectual level. But they can't make the things they know about his cruelty come together cleanly with what they're likely used to feeling about 'Li'. Once they see the reality -- his history, the atrocities he's committed, that he's still capable of -- it'll erase that gulf completely. ]

[ They'll be sick and ashamed to imagine they'd ever tried befriending him. ]

You're sure about that? [ To be frank, she'll hardly be the first lover he's hurt or had to put down. The cup warms in his palm. Cutting his gaze to the side, Hei pops the lid off to sip his tea. It's not a ruse to buy time; he feels no pressure, only the acrid burn of repressed impatience. He despises being interrogated. Especially about personal matters. Absolutely the only reason he's condescending to engage in this discussion is because he likes Pavel as a person. Because he does, in fact, care about Korra. ]

[ Neither the liking nor the caring are particularly intense. But they're enough that he can't simply blow them off. Though he'd like to. ]

As to my intention... [ His gaze meets Pavel with an intensity sharp as a bite. ] From the get-go, it was to keep her out of my business. That's ended poorly. But it doesn't mean it can't be salvaged. She's better off keeping away from me. [ Far away. It's unspoken but palpable in the silence between them, as he sips from his cup again. ]

Edited (tonight is a niiiiiight for typoooooos~) 2013-02-20 05:23 (UTC)

Yes, I am. [For a certain definition of sure. Even if Pavel believed that Hei was a remorseless, unrepentant killing machine (he does not), the City complicates matters by rendering death a traumatic inconvenience. Without any kind of finality, resorting to murder is, at best, illogical and, at worst, a quick way to make enemies who can't be eliminated permanently. If nothing else, Hei seems logical.

(But, again, Chekov's view of Hei is overoptimistic.)]

Why? [Pavel meets Hei's eyes briefly before looking back down at his coffee.] What do you have to protect that is worth so much secrecy?

[There's no whisper of accusation in his tone--only curiosity--but Chekov has been wondering why Hei deemed it necessary to take away his memories, and in needlessly forceful ways at that. And why allow Korra to keep her memories? It makes no sense, even with other questions answered.]

[ Overoptimistic indeed. Logic may be a Contractor's prerogative -- but Hei isn't a real Contractor. He's human. Far as he's come from separating brute facts from emotional legerdemain, as successfully as he's adapted in a profession which is entirely removed from decency or sentiment, his motivations still spring from an irrational source. Revenge. Hatred. Protectiveness. Death may be impermanent in the City. But who is to say that's his only solution? He could still make deal with the Deities. Reverse the effects of Pavel's own trade. He could make it so he and Korra never knew he existed. ]

[ It's better for all parties that way. ]

[ At Pavel's assertion, his brow arches and his mouth quirks, but there's no warmth there. Just a dead chill in the air around him.] It's dangerous to be too sure of anything. [ Death isn't the only option. Here or anywhere. Often, you wish it was. ] What could you do, if I killed you, right here? Not out of logic, but spite. You'd come back. In 24 hours. But it would be 24 hours of Korra, without you to warn her. Or help her. So many hours, in which I could do. So. Much.

[ He holds Pavel's eyes a moment. Lets that vicious message sink in. It's not a threat, but a reminder not to be too complacent. Whether he has to handle the issue by attrition, or by machinations, Hei can afford to be patient. ]

[ He doesn't answer Pavel's next question immediately. Only turns his head to look out at the park -- milky snow glittering on the grass. How can he explain, that he's been programmed to keep to a world of shadows? That since the age of eleven, it's been pounded -- literally -- into his head: Stay separate from the 'normal' world. Their illusion of reality is not yours. Their world is not yours. You don't exist there. ]

[ He's aware the City plays by different rules. But old habits are hard to break. Eventually, he replies, ] It's not your business. [ Nor is it your problem. He's lost too many friends -- comrades, civilians -- who made his problems theirs. It's almost a plea -- not that there's anything plaintive in Hei's demeanor -- for Pavel not to repeat the cycle. ] The less you and Korra know, the better.

You wouldn't do that. [This time with more confidence. Perhaps Chekov wouldn't be so sure if he understood what it was to feel hatred or to seek revenge (even after seeing Nero, hatred and revenge personified, destroy billions of lives in the name of vengeance, they aren't concepts that resonate on a personal level), or if he was better at seeing the thousands of shades of gray between good and evil. Even in the future, life isn't black and white; Starfleet has yet to incorporate that fact into its lessons. It teaches a philosophy of polarity. There are friends, enemies, and neutral parties, nothing more.

Hei may threaten and Mao's server may have contained information that Pavel would rather not remember, but Hei is, ultimately, a friend.

If that's the case, then why do his words chill Chekov right down to the bone?]

You believe that. [It's a statement. Hei obviously believes that his secrets are no one else's business (and really, they're not, although the ferocity with which he guards them only makes them more appealing) and that it's best if he remains a mystery. This isn't something Chekov can accept readily. Mysteries exist to be unraveled and the degree to which a secret is protected is in direct relation to that secret's importance. Hei may as well be laying down a challenge.] I believe that you are so accustomed to keeping secrets that you are afraid to allow anyone to learn them.

[If the faltering eye contact wasn't enough to tell Hei that Pavel is becoming increasingly unnerved by the conversation, then the slip back into carefully enunciated, contraction-free speech is a dead giveaway.]

If that's what you prefer believing. [ It's dismissal, not acceptance. Hei's life has never been so monochrome. Variables on one end of the scale (allies) can quickly slide to the other (enemies), or goldilocks somewhere in between. All that's needed is the right moments and motivations. Amid such volatility, you learn not to take labels at face value. He can count on both hands how often he's turned on Mao and Huang, or they on him, according to their personal goals as opposed to the Syndicate's orders. (As for good and evil -- he's no Nietzche, but like a majority of his Contractor counterparts, he's not concerned with inhabiting either spectrum. Only in protecting himself -- and those who hold an intrinsic value in his life.) ]

[ The tea cup is balanced neatly on the bench armrest next to Hei. He stretches his legs out, his posture relaxed. But he can feel Pavel's nervous energy vibrating against his flank. He doesn't even have to probe or catalogue -- the younger man's aura practically spells out the message for him. His remarks are equal parts accurate and amusing. Hei isn't trying to be mysterious or secretive, so much as adhering to the Syndicate's standard procedures. (But part of that adherence is fear -- the fear of exposure, blackmail, exploitation, or any of the myriad of horrors you suffer when your shields collapse. ]

[ It's not long before he says, a thoughtful rather than delayed response, ] Accustomed or afraid, they're my secrets to keep. [ Colder, ] The truth's an overrated thing, anyway. [ With the skeletons in your closet yanked out, all that's left of you is a rattling, boneless emptiness. You become defenseless. ]

Only because it is what I believe to be true. [And he tries to quiet his mind. Thinking too much now is not going to benefit him in the least; it'll only make him more nervous and annoyed with Hei's stubborn refusal to say anything outright. Chekov could, perhaps, be quite good at playing mind games if he had the motivation, but as it is, they irritate him.

Honest. Straightforward. That's what he likes.]

I don't understand.

[ Honest. Straightforward. None of that has any relationship to Hei's life. Sketchy details, withheld secrets, these are the themes of his profession. Anti-TMI. At the same time he acknowledges that Pavel has a right to ask, after everything Hei's put him and Korra through. Too bad his sense of fair-play is nonexistent. ]

It's better if you don't understand. [ he says, and the set of his mouth is flat with a million warnings tucked behind it. There's a moment to drain the rest of his tea cup, before he crumples it and tosses it into the adjacent bin. Rising, he brushes off the snow from his jeans, but it's a sloppy effort compared to his usual precision -- he's already halfway to slipping back into 'Li's costume. ]

[ He doesn't immediately meet Pavel's eyes. But when he does, his face, carefully calm, is nonetheless tired and still. His whole body projects a subtle exhaustion, evident in the dark skin under his eyes and the droop of his shoulders. ]

If it's worth anything, tell Korra she has nothing to regret. She did nothing wrong. That was all me. [ He knows he preempted her choice in the kiss-off. But it was for her own good. Emotion is Hei's Achilles heel. Emotion is what muddles him. His life, his self, just isn't designed for it. She's better off with someone who owns less baggage, someone who doesn't think of people in terms of meat-puppets and manipulations. ] I know she's upset. But it'll be worse if I'm with her, whether she thinks so or not. I broke it off to make things easier for her. Not to add to her problems.

[ None of this is easy to say. But it's true and factual and felt. With that, Hei turns to go, hands tucked into his hoodie, before Pavel can reply or protest. To an outsider, the abrupt exit would ring of rudeness -- but it's just a snapshot of his world, and his state of mind. ]

IC Contact

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