Interesting. There's a certain similarity there, but it seems as if something lacks here that is otherwise present. Or perhaps Jesse isn't the one speaking at all, now.
There is, despite the sudden rise in temperature, a coldness to those black voids.
"And what might you be?" she hums, allowing her hand to drop. No sign of a struggle or renewed hostility. No signs of pain, as the skin starts to seal itself slowly back together again. "McCree's little secret, all this time?"
“You seem like a smart one, Moira O’Deorain. I think you already know.”
It sounds like Jesse still, far as his accent and manner of speaking go. It has, after all, been with the man since his youth. Every thought Jesse has ever had, everything he’s ever done—the demon was privy to all of it, and it could mimic its human host expertly if necessary.
Now, of course, it’s not necessary at all. Moira knows what he is, and so he lets his speech take on a lazy, comfortable lilt not at all fitting to the amount of blood and gore on his person. Still, he sounds like Jesse. Maybe it’s a preference by now.
“How much did Gabriel Reyes tell you though, I wonder? He did clever work.” He smirks, laughing quietly at the memory. “I was workin’ on undoing it, but you helped move things along so much faster.”
"He certainly didn't tell me he had a demon stoppered up inside of our resident gunslinger. Though that does explain a number of things." The second presence she'd felt while draining Jesse, earlier...his unnatural prowess as a hunter, even while he'd still been human.
"Is he still present, when you're like this?"
She turns to wipe her hands off on a nearby towel, though her eyes remained fixed on the demon. So it had been attempting to wriggle lose now, for some time. Had Jesse been aware, and holding back?
He seems amused by the question. ‘Present,’ after all, could have all sorts of meanings. And he does enjoy operating in ambiguity.
“I should’ve had the boy a long time ago, all truth be told. We made a deal. It’s high time he held up his end of the bargain.”
As he talks, his eyes follow her in turn, not once blinking.
“But I could go on and on about myself. Tell me a little bit about you doc. Information for information.” Spoken as if he isn’t strapped to a table and in absolutely no position to negotiate.
Of course. Leave it to a demon to feel so entitled, even held hostage as he is. Moira can almost admire that sort of gall, even if her lips purse slightly.
"And what is it that provokes a demon's curiosity?"
She moves towards the computer, quickly tapping away in brief notation. May as well keep track of all of this. Who knew if the shift was permanent, or how long he'd remain strong enough to stay conscious. Whether he shows the pain or not, his vessel has undergone quite a bit of physical stress.
“Humans are always going around makin’ somethin’ new.”
He watches her still, unmoving. Perhaps he can’t thanks to the damage she’s done. Grateful as he is to have full reign over this body now, he does wish she could’ve done it in a less destructive way. The pain is rather novel though.
“I know monsters. I know spirits. But you’ve done somethin’ with ‘em I’ve never seen before. No respect for the natural order of things.” Based on his tone, he sees that as the opposite of a problem. “I want to know what you did to yourself, and I’ll give you a secret in return.”
While it's technically divulging information to a potential foe, there is the upside of sharing her success with a receptive audience. Captive as he might be. "What I've done is untethered myself from the same physical restraints my colleagues share," she replies, straightening behind the keyboard. "A vampire requires blood to survive. Shelter from sunlight. A number of inelegant hurdles best avoided altogether."
And for a moment, she lets the illusion fade. The thing that keeps her appearing as her former, living self. Instead she seems as pale as a ghost, hair loose and white and wispy about her face, eyes pale and blank.
"Those who speak of such things in tales and legends would have known the name 'banshee'. Though as always, the stories and the truth of the matter don't quite overlap in their entirety. I imagine you know something of that, yourself."
Jesse—or the thing that is now masquerading as him—let’s out a low whistle of appreciation.
“Tall tales wouldn’t be half as fun if they were all true. That’s some fine work you’ve done there. A human, makin’ themselves a banshee on purpose—” He laughs again, sounding genuinely delighted.
“This is why we still bother to give this plane the time of day. Where else would you see somethin’ like that?”
"For as many humans fear the darkness and huddle like rats before it, there are those who are willing to embrace the power that resides there. We draw ever closer to a time where those willing to take those steps stand to shape the course of the future...while the meek remain fodder for the machine, as they ever have."
Slowly, the ghostly figure becomes solid once more, and Moira stands there looking the same as she ever did. Alright. She's shown the demon hers. Time to pay up.
"But your vessel isn't one of the meek ones. Uneducated, perhaps. But I might wager you selected him for a reason."
The demon cocks its head to the side with a knowing little smirk. She’s fishing, clearly. But will he give her what she’s looking for?
“He had so much potential, and he was hungry. Wanted power and everythin’ that comes along with it, and he’d give up just about anything for it. How was I supposed to say no? The brighter the flame burns, the better it is when you swallow it whole. Bet you know that yourself, now.”
A voluntary arrangement, then. And to think, Jesse wanted to seem as though he had the moral high ground. All this time, and he'd been making deals with devils while no one was looking. Naughty boy.
"And how has that deal worked out for you, now that McCree is one of the undead? Swallowing his...ahem...'flame' might take more time than first anticipated." One finger taps her chin thoughtfully. "Unless you somehow benefit from the lives he takes, in this form."
“Y’know, I wasn’t too pleased at first. Him livin’ forever meant I’d be stuck imprisoned indefinitely, but… it’s a curious thing, the bond between blood and a soul. Even without devouring the whole, you get a nice kickback. At least we did. Not so sure that would work for you, banshee.”
He gives her a quick once-over, almost like he can still see that true form of hers under the human guise.
“Turns out vampiric and demonic energies gettin' all tangled has side-effects. Likely had somethin' to do with those bonds of Reyes’s coming just a little bit loose. Maybe they’d have lasted the rest of the kid’s natural life, but I suppose they weren’t made to work on monsters.”
"No...there are other ways to bind monsters, as it so happens."
Oh how satisfied her cold smile is. It's as she assumed. Sharing a host with a vampire rather than a human would have provided some rather singular results. Could that be the reason for the hunter's rumored appetites? Or something else in his blood, something perhaps resulting from his sire? Ah well. The tests would be able to tell her more, in time.
"Though whether or not those methods would work in your particular situation...well. Only one way to find out." And her nails clack briefly across the keys once more.
“You would bind me to your will. Or do you intend to trap me in this body once more?”
Either way, he’s gone from amused to… not angry, but contemplative. He has options here she doesn’t know about, but it’s a question of whether or not he should use them. This body is still broken, the pain of the silver-inflicted wounds (healing, but not healed) still screaming through his nervous system. Pushing himself would be gamble.
Whether it’s worth it or not entirely depends on what he can make of Moira’s motivations.
"What a waste that would be. After all that effort to speak to you, only to shove you away again, wherever he'd been keeping you? No."
Slowly she strides back over to the table, hands folded behind her back once more.
"But I would like to test out our latest device. Just to see. We started with the werewolves, you see. The devices prevent them from shifting back, and prove quite effective at stimulating a response from their base, animal instincts. Vampires are...well. More complex. And you, my dear, are utterly unique."
So it is control she’s after. Moira might not be entirely human any longer, but her base motivations remain the same. As it is with most creatures, mortal or otherwise. The demon hums, considering a future in which he stays and submits. Just to see what happens. For the hell of it.
Then the other future, where walks out of this free to cause as much chaos as his little unholy heart desires. Unchecked. How many souls in town could he take before sunrise, he wonders?
“Flatterer.”
He smiles, his fingers curling almost imperceptibly, and there’s only the flash of dry heat as warning before flames burst up from his fingertips. It’s more a ghostly flame than something real, and it doesn’t burn him. But Moira will feel the heat of it as it overtakes his entire body, might even get singed if she’s standing a little too close.
“I’m sorry to say that I might have other plans for tonight.”
Moire looks surprised, for just a moment. Then she sighs, shaking her head.
"I was so hoping we could do this the simple way. But I suppose the boy must have rubbed off on you." And she takes a step back to observe. He's still locked down, so what exactly is that strange fire of his capable of?
And will her assistance arrive in time. She'd requested that collar only a few moments ago, but Satya isn't the type to dally.
“Could be. We’ve been two peas in a pod for a while now.”
The flames spill out over the edge of the table, an eerie reddish-purple glow flickering off the walls of the room as they spread. Where it meets something electronic, plastic warps and sparks start to fly. A few spare papers burst into flames on contact, rendered to ash in a matter of moments.
“How much is all this worth to you?” he asks as the demon fire closes in on both her and the computers themselves.
Growling under her breath, Moira extends her hands. Perhaps siphoning off enough of the demon's energy would be enough to subdue it, or distract it long enough for those doors to open. Where is that woman?
But in drawing on his energy now, it feels strange. Wrong. Corrosive, corrupting. It's difficult now to even maintain that connection, as she steps back further to avoid the growing flames. Her research. All of her notes.
She has backups, of course she does, but even so. The nerve.
The demon’s laugh echoes unnaturally around the space, amplified by whatever power he’s putting out into the room. He doesn’t have the energy to keep this up for long, which is made clear by the way any healing he’d been undergoing has stopped completely, but it’s pretty damn fun in the meantime.
“Tic toc, doc,” he calls out in a sing-song voice. The fire has reached one of the computers now, warping the casing and cracking the screen in a flurry of flashing pixels. And of course, it creeps ever closer to the scientist herself. If the table around him had been anything less sturdy, he’d have done away with that already too. As it is, he’ll either have to short the system keeping the cuffs closed, or get her to do it herself.
Even as the fire spreads, destroying her lab, Moira can't help a quiet fascination. This power is incredible, unearthly, even for their kind. If he proves this difficult to contain, then if there ever were a way to leash him, it could mean untold power at Talon's fingertips.
Imagine what they could unlock.
She's pulled from these thoughts by the pop and spark of a nearby machine, and her teeth grit. Determined, she continues to try to drag what she can from him, anything to stave off the flames. Then suddenly, from behind her, a blue circle of light pops into being. A mechanical hand reaches through, tugging Moira back with it, before pop! The portal vanishes from sight once more.
Now, they can start to seal the lab off in earnest. It's not the prison she would have opted for, but they'll have to make do now, won't they.
This is an exercise in power for the demon itself. It has never inhabited a host like this, never had the chance to try something like this in a mortal form, and the potential of it is heady. But with potential comes limitations. His body, for one, which is both starving and struggling to heal the damage done. His fangs flash as he tilts his head back and laughs, the fire consuming everything from floor to ceiling. The lights flicker, the room melting and warping and spitting out sparks from numerous sources.
Then the flames retreat, returning to their source and dancing among his fingertips before snuffing out. A shame. If he was in his full power, he might even have been able to melt the metal at his wrist. An experiment for another time.
“This is fun, isn’t it mijo?” he says to himself despite knowing that no one will answer.
There's no keeping something like this quiet, after that. The facility has to be made aware of what's being kept in its bowels, and stricter security measures are put in place. No living creature is to enter the lab, all data to be remotely scrubbed and transferred to an alternate lab for the time being. The whole area is to be kept sealed tight.
Fortunately, she's already removed the other specimens. Even if the demon does summon enough strength to rip itself free of its shackles, there's nothing to feed on. No way to regain its vessel's strength, trapped inside of a starving vampire cut off from any and all food sources.
Until daylight, no one even travels down to observe the mess within through one of the lab windows.
The limitations of his vessel really are putting a damper on things. He can’t break his restraints, not without sustenance of one kind or another. And when the sun rises, he sleeps. The rest helps, but without blood, he doesn’t continue to heal in any way faster than a normal human might (putting aside for a moment that his wounds would be fatal to a mortal, and he’s not that dead.)
But the demon is nothing if not patient. It will bide its time, regardless of what the denizens of the lab get up to while he recovers. Human, immortal—they’re all so short-sighted.
While he sleeps, he is moved. Out of the labs, to a holding facility of a different nature. He can't be left there, with so much sensitive information there at his fingertips should he break free. That had clearly been McCree's intent. Who knew what the demon actually wanted?
There would be ways of finding out, in time. First, they had to be in a position to bargain with the creature. Perhaps tempting it with food, a way for it to recover its strength, provided it was willing to give something in turn. Information. Service. Whatever they might be able to finesse from it. Moira of course wants little more than to pry him open a piece at a time, but there are others in Talon with...alternate goals in mind.
After three nights, Moira appears at the door of the cell. Time to try this again.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ahahahah beautiful
There is, despite the sudden rise in temperature, a coldness to those black voids.
"And what might you be?" she hums, allowing her hand to drop. No sign of a struggle or renewed hostility. No signs of pain, as the skin starts to seal itself slowly back together again. "McCree's little secret, all this time?"
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It sounds like Jesse still, far as his accent and manner of speaking go. It has, after all, been with the man since his youth. Every thought Jesse has ever had, everything he’s ever done—the demon was privy to all of it, and it could mimic its human host expertly if necessary.
Now, of course, it’s not necessary at all. Moira knows what he is, and so he lets his speech take on a lazy, comfortable lilt not at all fitting to the amount of blood and gore on his person. Still, he sounds like Jesse. Maybe it’s a preference by now.
“How much did Gabriel Reyes tell you though, I wonder? He did clever work.” He smirks, laughing quietly at the memory. “I was workin’ on undoing it, but you helped move things along so much faster.”
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"Is he still present, when you're like this?"
She turns to wipe her hands off on a nearby towel, though her eyes remained fixed on the demon. So it had been attempting to wriggle lose now, for some time. Had Jesse been aware, and holding back?
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He seems amused by the question. ‘Present,’ after all, could have all sorts of meanings. And he does enjoy operating in ambiguity.
“I should’ve had the boy a long time ago, all truth be told. We made a deal. It’s high time he held up his end of the bargain.”
As he talks, his eyes follow her in turn, not once blinking.
“But I could go on and on about myself. Tell me a little bit about you doc. Information for information.” Spoken as if he isn’t strapped to a table and in absolutely no position to negotiate.
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"And what is it that provokes a demon's curiosity?"
She moves towards the computer, quickly tapping away in brief notation. May as well keep track of all of this. Who knew if the shift was permanent, or how long he'd remain strong enough to stay conscious. Whether he shows the pain or not, his vessel has undergone quite a bit of physical stress.
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He watches her still, unmoving. Perhaps he can’t thanks to the damage she’s done. Grateful as he is to have full reign over this body now, he does wish she could’ve done it in a less destructive way. The pain is rather novel though.
“I know monsters. I know spirits. But you’ve done somethin’ with ‘em I’ve never seen before. No respect for the natural order of things.” Based on his tone, he sees that as the opposite of a problem. “I want to know what you did to yourself, and I’ll give you a secret in return.”
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And for a moment, she lets the illusion fade. The thing that keeps her appearing as her former, living self. Instead she seems as pale as a ghost, hair loose and white and wispy about her face, eyes pale and blank.
"Those who speak of such things in tales and legends would have known the name 'banshee'. Though as always, the stories and the truth of the matter don't quite overlap in their entirety. I imagine you know something of that, yourself."
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“Tall tales wouldn’t be half as fun if they were all true. That’s some fine work you’ve done there. A human, makin’ themselves a banshee on purpose—” He laughs again, sounding genuinely delighted.
“This is why we still bother to give this plane the time of day. Where else would you see somethin’ like that?”
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Slowly, the ghostly figure becomes solid once more, and Moira stands there looking the same as she ever did. Alright. She's shown the demon hers. Time to pay up.
"But your vessel isn't one of the meek ones. Uneducated, perhaps. But I might wager you selected him for a reason."
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“He had so much potential, and he was hungry. Wanted power and everythin’ that comes along with it, and he’d give up just about anything for it. How was I supposed to say no? The brighter the flame burns, the better it is when you swallow it whole. Bet you know that yourself, now.”
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"And how has that deal worked out for you, now that McCree is one of the undead? Swallowing his...ahem...'flame' might take more time than first anticipated." One finger taps her chin thoughtfully. "Unless you somehow benefit from the lives he takes, in this form."
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He gives her a quick once-over, almost like he can still see that true form of hers under the human guise.
“Turns out vampiric and demonic energies gettin' all tangled has side-effects. Likely had somethin' to do with those bonds of Reyes’s coming just a little bit loose. Maybe they’d have lasted the rest of the kid’s natural life, but I suppose they weren’t made to work on monsters.”
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Oh how satisfied her cold smile is. It's as she assumed. Sharing a host with a vampire rather than a human would have provided some rather singular results. Could that be the reason for the hunter's rumored appetites? Or something else in his blood, something perhaps resulting from his sire? Ah well. The tests would be able to tell her more, in time.
"Though whether or not those methods would work in your particular situation...well. Only one way to find out." And her nails clack briefly across the keys once more.
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Either way, he’s gone from amused to… not angry, but contemplative. He has options here she doesn’t know about, but it’s a question of whether or not he should use them. This body is still broken, the pain of the silver-inflicted wounds (healing, but not healed) still screaming through his nervous system. Pushing himself would be gamble.
Whether it’s worth it or not entirely depends on what he can make of Moira’s motivations.
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Slowly she strides back over to the table, hands folded behind her back once more.
"But I would like to test out our latest device. Just to see. We started with the werewolves, you see. The devices prevent them from shifting back, and prove quite effective at stimulating a response from their base, animal instincts. Vampires are...well. More complex. And you, my dear, are utterly unique."
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Then the other future, where walks out of this free to cause as much chaos as his little unholy heart desires. Unchecked. How many souls in town could he take before sunrise, he wonders?
“Flatterer.”
He smiles, his fingers curling almost imperceptibly, and there’s only the flash of dry heat as warning before flames burst up from his fingertips. It’s more a ghostly flame than something real, and it doesn’t burn him. But Moira will feel the heat of it as it overtakes his entire body, might even get singed if she’s standing a little too close.
“I’m sorry to say that I might have other plans for tonight.”
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"I was so hoping we could do this the simple way. But I suppose the boy must have rubbed off on you." And she takes a step back to observe. He's still locked down, so what exactly is that strange fire of his capable of?
And will her assistance arrive in time. She'd requested that collar only a few moments ago, but Satya isn't the type to dally.
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The flames spill out over the edge of the table, an eerie reddish-purple glow flickering off the walls of the room as they spread. Where it meets something electronic, plastic warps and sparks start to fly. A few spare papers burst into flames on contact, rendered to ash in a matter of moments.
“How much is all this worth to you?” he asks as the demon fire closes in on both her and the computers themselves.
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Growling under her breath, Moira extends her hands. Perhaps siphoning off enough of the demon's energy would be enough to subdue it, or distract it long enough for those doors to open. Where is that woman?
But in drawing on his energy now, it feels strange. Wrong. Corrosive, corrupting. It's difficult now to even maintain that connection, as she steps back further to avoid the growing flames. Her research. All of her notes.
She has backups, of course she does, but even so. The nerve.
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“Tic toc, doc,” he calls out in a sing-song voice. The fire has reached one of the computers now, warping the casing and cracking the screen in a flurry of flashing pixels. And of course, it creeps ever closer to the scientist herself. If the table around him had been anything less sturdy, he’d have done away with that already too. As it is, he’ll either have to short the system keeping the cuffs closed, or get her to do it herself.
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Imagine what they could unlock.
She's pulled from these thoughts by the pop and spark of a nearby machine, and her teeth grit. Determined, she continues to try to drag what she can from him, anything to stave off the flames. Then suddenly, from behind her, a blue circle of light pops into being. A mechanical hand reaches through, tugging Moira back with it, before pop! The portal vanishes from sight once more.
Now, they can start to seal the lab off in earnest. It's not the prison she would have opted for, but they'll have to make do now, won't they.
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Then the flames retreat, returning to their source and dancing among his fingertips before snuffing out. A shame. If he was in his full power, he might even have been able to melt the metal at his wrist. An experiment for another time.
“This is fun, isn’t it mijo?” he says to himself despite knowing that no one will answer.
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Fortunately, she's already removed the other specimens. Even if the demon does summon enough strength to rip itself free of its shackles, there's nothing to feed on. No way to regain its vessel's strength, trapped inside of a starving vampire cut off from any and all food sources.
Until daylight, no one even travels down to observe the mess within through one of the lab windows.
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But the demon is nothing if not patient. It will bide its time, regardless of what the denizens of the lab get up to while he recovers. Human, immortal—they’re all so short-sighted.
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There would be ways of finding out, in time. First, they had to be in a position to bargain with the creature. Perhaps tempting it with food, a way for it to recover its strength, provided it was willing to give something in turn. Information. Service. Whatever they might be able to finesse from it. Moira of course wants little more than to pry him open a piece at a time, but there are others in Talon with...alternate goals in mind.
After three nights, Moira appears at the door of the cell. Time to try this again.
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