0004: NEW ARRIVAL BRIEFING

[crux_npcs]

Who: New Arrivals, Graham Baker
Where: Briefing Room
When: Late afternoon, Februaro 30th
Warnings: None

When awakening, you'll find the area you're in to be very busy. The people in the medical ward are polite and understanding, but firmly refuse to answer questions until the briefing. The same goes for the robots in the hangars. Either given hospital outfits resembling very comfortable pajamas, drone bodies, or their own bodies, they are escorted by polite, unyielding people in red and black uniforms to the briefing room.

The Briefing room is large. Not enough to accommodate a Cybertronian, but spacious enough for several dozen people. The chairs are high-backed and well-cushioned, more like comforting eggs floating a foot or so off the ground than anything else. A half completed, but still functional, holographic display is settled into the floor, showing a slowly rotating pyramid.

A few Security personnel, dressed in their red and black uniforms, stand at ease in the rooms in strategic areas. They seem fairly relaxed. One man stands at the head. Graham Baker, a middle-aged man, showing the first signs of balding and wearing a rumpled business suit perhaps a size too large, nervously clasps his hands together and smiles.

[Questions to the NPCs will go in the briefing thread. The rest of the post is there for people to mill about and do whatever with. The mods will not be doing hangar/medical awakenings unless it's specifically asked for.]

Comments

[havethewill]

Having an outlet for his aggression only opens the vents and fuels it further. More conscious effort is spent in not crushing her her windpipe and grinding her vertebrae into powder than it is to hold back. He feels the cool kiss of the rifle against his throat and it means nothing--he doesn't flinch. If anything, his grip tightens.

"You are a traitor and you know nothing." His face is now so near he can see the breath tremble through her nostrils. "Please, enlighten me. What of value could you possibly have to offer."

[totallytrustworthy]

There's too much pain in that; Chloe can't keep her features from twisting in response as the secondary grip on her gun drops in an effort to find purchase scrabbling at his arm. Swears she can see spots in her vision though it's only been a few seconds, hasn't it?

"--you need resources. Allies." Christ, when was he ever this bloody strong. "You know better than anyone I can do that for you."

[havethewill]

There are some women who truly believe their mouth is a passkey to any situation, any prize. Chloe Frazer is such a woman. And while he can respect such guile, she is only as useful to him as she is trustworthy.

"And how long before you betray me this time, hmm?" He snarls, teeth flashing under his lip.

[totallytrustworthy]

He's not the sort she's loyal to.

But even with immeasurable contempt fixed firmly in the back of her neatly trapped throat, she's not careless enough to throw her life away over it. For someone that's witnessed firsthand the sort of damage he's capable of, heroism and honor are things best left to those that can afford them. And her pockets are currently empty.

"Who would I betray you for?" Not as eloquent as she might otherwise manage, fingers dug into skin to the point of drawing blood, but it gets the point across: no one else is here. No one worth protecting, anyway. His breath is all the air she can steal when she manages to inhale-- sharply-- in the split-second shifting of the muscles of his arm.

[havethewill]

Obviously he cannot believe a word she says while her life is threatened. But he can taste the fear on her breath, feel it fluttering under his palm cinched tight against her carotid artery. As long as she believes there will be consequences for crossing Lazarevic, she belongs to him. It's a weak leash to put on her, but it is something. It means he has a another piece on the board. Particularly appealing when killing her here and now will jeopardize his freedom.

His grip lets up, enough for her to breathe naturally. But he is still very much in her space, pinning her to the wall with the force of his presence. Then his gaze slides sideways to the gun.

"Put it away. Unless, of course, you find you suddenly have the stomach to use it."

[totallytrustworthy]

She steals a few spare seconds on the rush of blood, the aching satisfaction of oxygen coursing along bruised passageways before withdrawing the muzzle of her gun. Before she drops the only physical insurance she has with more than a little reluctance.

He's still too close for even the barest semblance of comfort.

"Happy?"

[havethewill]

It is not insurance. But for now, he'll grant her that illusion.

"I expect you to keep your mouth shut." He takes his hand from her neck entirely, setting it instead against the wall just above her head. "You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not jump" Lazarevic drops his chin, looks her as near eye-to-eye as their contrasting heights allow "until I say 'jump'."

[totallytrustworthy]

"Fine." It's neither pleasant nor supplicating, isn't intended to be if only because-- good as she is at playing bit parts-- her temper's far from willing to die out. She misses, against reason, the buffer that was Harry Flynn taking the brunt of Lazarevic's ire.

"Anything else I need to know or are you planning on spending the rest of this afternoon staring me down?"

[havethewill]

"I will be spending my afternoon getting my bearings. You," Lazarevic's other hand has moved from his side, snaking between them to free the knife from its sheath on his chest and tucking its tip up under her chin before she's a chance to recognize the impending threat. "I imagine you will be seeking medical attention."

He pushes the blade from the tip of her chin down the line of her jaw, looping back behind her ear and grazing her earlobe in the process. There isn't a lot of pressure, and the damage is superficial. But oh, she bleeds.

[totallytrustworthy]

"--shit--" The sting doesn't hit till after her skin registers wet heat running down towards the angled edge of her collarbone, but she hisses all the same, recently freed hand clamping down across that expanding crimson line. It isn't possible to shrink back any farther than what little space she's already been afforded; Chloe attempts it anyway, hard glare still fixed firmly in his direction. "Was that really necessary?"

[havethewill]

"Yes. And it will be again each and every time you step a toe out of line." Despite the warning, he doubts the lesson will last. This woman is incorrigible.

He flips the knife over in his hand and wipes the blade on his sleeve before putting it away. And then he straightens and stands back from the wall, relaxing the tension between them like a muscle.

“I will have resources. Weapons first, and barring that, raw materials to construct them. Locate a supplier. I require funds or I require items of value for barter. I need the names of men who will work.” Lazarevic puts his back to her as he moves to lift his gun off the floor.

“You have four hours to prepare your first report.”