"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.
By that point, even the demon’s unique abilities can’t stave off the effects of starvation and torture. The smile he turns toward Moira tonight is just as amused and unaffected as before, on the surface—but that only thinly veils the malice beneath. He’d been summoned in pursuit of power, after all. He does not at all appreciate having his taken from him yet again.
“O’Deorain. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He sits on the ground, back propped up against the wall, and watches her with those same, shadowed eyes. There are subtle differences tonight, however. The way his skin seems pulled more taut over his face, the prominence of his fangs. The tell-tale signs of a vampire well into starvation.
"I thought you might be hungry," she replies blandly, before jerking her chin. Hesitantly, a young man edges into view, black-brown eyes wide with fear and jaw clenched tight. His uniform said he might have been security for the Oasis facility. Perhaps the fault that had allowed McCree to slip in had been pinned on him, and only now was punishment being meted out.
"A meal. After which you'll behave yourself long enough to earn less...limiting accommodations. Refuse, or take advantage of the offer? And you'll not receive another of the kind." One eyebrow arches.
The demon’s eyes lock on the boy and stay there, like a snake that has spotted a mouse. Unlike McCree, it has no qualms about killing innocents. Blood means power, and power means freedom. If it must be on Moira’s terms for now, then so be it.
Sternly, she nods into the cell, and the poor guard steps inside. His hands shake at his sides, throat bobbing in a swallow as he stares at this monster, with eyes like the void itself and a hunger in its stare. But he edges forward as bidden, just the same.
Maybe the alternative he was offered was worse than this. Somehow.
With stuttered breaths, he drops to his knees beside the demon, and by now his whole frame shakes. But he makes no move to defend himself from what's to come.
Even if he had tried to defend himself, it wouldn’t have mattered. The demon only takes a moment to consider his prey before striking with an inhuman speed, too hungry for niceties or to toy with his meal like he might’ve otherwise. He latches onto the young man’s throat without a hint of hesitation, and he drinks deeply until there’s nothing at all left.
When it’s done, he looks up with a sound not unlike a purr and lets the body drop from his hands. He looks better. Less desperate, but not wholly recovered. He turns towards Moira and licks the blood off his lower lip.
"You'll need to prove yourself before that happens. I have no intention of letting a fully-powered demon within the body of a vampire loose within our base. Not without certain assurances."
She approaches, stepping over the body of the unfortunate guard, before gesturing for him to lift his wrists.
Regardless, he raises his hands with a look that that could almost be described as put-out. As he waits, he blinks, perhaps for the first time—and after, his eyes look normal again. Like McCree’s. He has the strength for that now at least.
“Where to now, doc? Back to the lab? Or do you have somethin' more interesting for me?"
"As interesting as destroying a lab's worth of equipment?" she replies dryly, before sliding her thumb along the underside of the cuffs. They retract, falling away, before she bends to attend to those around his ankles as well.
A little more swiftly, and with her attention ever on him.
"It has been determined that you are worth a great deal to Talon. The method of your service can be influenced by your actions, moving forward. Some believe that a proper operative could be made of you. Particularly since Overwatch trusts the man you reside within."
“You had a choice,” he reminds her, not one ounce of regret in his voice. “Part of that was givin’ the equipment up. You can hardly blame me.”
He watches her right back, not unlike the way he’d watched the man dead at their feet. Like he has half a mind to pounce at any moment. The effect is perhaps dimmed by the fact that his eyes look human now though.
“Suppose I should be flattered. Y’all must be confident you can convince me to follow your orders, to be considerin’ a position with such high stakes.”
His hands now free, he rubs at his wrists and stretches out his legs, arching his back in a languid stretch.
Her lip twitches ever so slightly at his remark. He doesn't know. Good. Best to keep it that way.
"You are a demon. One side could certainly see to your needs better than the other. But if you prefer to be locked away as a scientific curiosity until your host finally expires, that is always an option," she replies evenly, fingers steepling primly in front of her.
"Trust that we've taken measures to ensure you can be contained once more, if necessary. But if you are willing to conduct yourself appropriately, you will find life here much less restrictive. And no one will attempt to bottle you back up, for a start."
“Just so long as I’m a good dog at the end of your leash.”
He finally goes to stand, the process taking more relying on the wall than he’d like. But once upright, he’s able to stand on his own, and he takes a moment to look himself over. Prominent scarring still on his torso, body weak but responsive. He looks down at his own hand, the flesh and blood one, closing his fingers into a fist before opening them again.
A broken body, but his nonetheless. It’s a start.
“And who do I report to around here? You?” He looks up at her with one eyebrow raised. “A woman who could’ve been a demon in another life—seems appropriate.”
"Charming," she replies flatly, before gesturing for him to follow. It's a test of sorts. Leave him his mobility, his perception of freedom. See what he'll do with it when given the opportunity.
Nothing need change. And the failsafe in case he decides to act out of turn courses through his blood. And how willing he had been to suck down every last drop. So much the better.
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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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“O’Deorain. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He sits on the ground, back propped up against the wall, and watches her with those same, shadowed eyes. There are subtle differences tonight, however. The way his skin seems pulled more taut over his face, the prominence of his fangs. The tell-tale signs of a vampire well into starvation.
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"A meal. After which you'll behave yourself long enough to earn less...limiting accommodations. Refuse, or take advantage of the offer? And you'll not receive another of the kind." One eyebrow arches.
"Interested?"
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“You drive a hard bargain. And an unfair one."
He nods, still staring at her companion.
"You’ve got yourself a deal.”
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Maybe the alternative he was offered was worse than this. Somehow.
With stuttered breaths, he drops to his knees beside the demon, and by now his whole frame shakes. But he makes no move to defend himself from what's to come.
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When it’s done, he looks up with a sound not unlike a purr and lets the body drop from his hands. He looks better. Less desperate, but not wholly recovered. He turns towards Moira and licks the blood off his lower lip.
“I’ll need more than that.”
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She approaches, stepping over the body of the unfortunate guard, before gesturing for him to lift his wrists.
"But, as promised."
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Regardless, he raises his hands with a look that that could almost be described as put-out. As he waits, he blinks, perhaps for the first time—and after, his eyes look normal again. Like McCree’s. He has the strength for that now at least.
“Where to now, doc? Back to the lab? Or do you have somethin' more interesting for me?"
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A little more swiftly, and with her attention ever on him.
"It has been determined that you are worth a great deal to Talon. The method of your service can be influenced by your actions, moving forward. Some believe that a proper operative could be made of you. Particularly since Overwatch trusts the man you reside within."
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He watches her right back, not unlike the way he’d watched the man dead at their feet. Like he has half a mind to pounce at any moment. The effect is perhaps dimmed by the fact that his eyes look human now though.
“Suppose I should be flattered. Y’all must be confident you can convince me to follow your orders, to be considerin’ a position with such high stakes.”
His hands now free, he rubs at his wrists and stretches out his legs, arching his back in a languid stretch.
no subject
"You are a demon. One side could certainly see to your needs better than the other. But if you prefer to be locked away as a scientific curiosity until your host finally expires, that is always an option," she replies evenly, fingers steepling primly in front of her.
"Trust that we've taken measures to ensure you can be contained once more, if necessary. But if you are willing to conduct yourself appropriately, you will find life here much less restrictive. And no one will attempt to bottle you back up, for a start."
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He finally goes to stand, the process taking more relying on the wall than he’d like. But once upright, he’s able to stand on his own, and he takes a moment to look himself over. Prominent scarring still on his torso, body weak but responsive. He looks down at his own hand, the flesh and blood one, closing his fingers into a fist before opening them again.
A broken body, but his nonetheless. It’s a start.
“And who do I report to around here? You?” He looks up at her with one eyebrow raised. “A woman who could’ve been a demon in another life—seems appropriate.”
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Nothing need change. And the failsafe in case he decides to act out of turn courses through his blood. And how willing he had been to suck down every last drop. So much the better.
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