#dacelonovae: drifter

[artificialconstruct]

the Drifter @ ??? :

Their void amp clatters to the ground as they put their hands up, slowly rising to their knees from where they'd dropped to avoid whatever energy blast had just missed them. They have no idea what sort of person--creature--thing, is standing in front of them, but they do know this: they would be dead right now if it wanted them to be.

Maybe if they try and play nice, the two of them can just go their separate ways--or at least they can throw it off long enough to disappear.

"So," they say, with a practiced veneer of calm, "are we done shooting each other now?"

If it was an asshole--okay, it is an asshole, but if it was a different kind of asshole--it would say, 'No', shoot them in the head, and leave the body here where no-one would ever see it again except the Infested still scuttling around this supposedly-abandoned ship.

Instead it powers down the energy weapons in its arms and says: "For now."

The infested make all the hairs on its organic parts stand on end. It doesn't really want to leave a human--augmented human?--body with them, even one it doesn't know. No, it doesn't know why. Yes, it's stupid to give a shit.

It tries to poke into their feed, to access any augments they might have, something to give it more intel on who and what this person is. There's a strange, staticky interference that feels like it's all around them. Maybe it can get through that, but it needs more time.

"The ship isn't safe for humans. I've been tasked with clearing it." That wasn't not not a lie (note to self: consult ART on triple negatives). "Are you from the Corporation Rim?"

[nightmarecountry]

👓 // "Hey, you've got a smudge." The Drifter takes the glasses off without thinking, an over-familiarity that may be rubbing off on them from elsewhere. But the moment that things eyes--or, well, not--come into view, they freeze.

"Well," they say, after an extended stretch of silence. "Gotta admit, that's a new one."

Despite the lack of eyes, it is clear that the creature is glaring at them - and that they are witnessing something no-one is supposed to. As the silence between them stretches, the stranger tilts its head in a slow, predatory motion—but all it does is hold out its hand, palm-up.

“I should hope so,” it says flatly. “I wasn’t kidding about being a nightmare. Those are a part of me. Return them.”

He knows there will be questions he has no wish to answer - a feeling he wonders if the Drifter is familiar with, given their recent… temporal escapades.

“This is between us only. No tattling to your friends. Got it?”