[The night before their time is up, the night before their negotiating party is set to board the Caducan ship and try to find a peaceful way out of this, Deacon comes to his quarters to find a strange mask on his bed. He's not sure if the ugly thing is a peculiar prank or an unpleasant but well-meaning present. He suspects the former and suspects that it's Prometheus' doing. This sort of random action with intent to unnerve seems right up his alley. Either way, it's going off his bed and into a drawer, there to be forgotten.
The next day, negotiations go about as well as trying to negotiate with muties to convince them not to eat you. When the shots start, he activates his Stealth Boy, turning invisible with only a faint shimmer in the air, like a heat haze, giving away his position. He draws his laser pistol and fires a few shots at the Caducans, aiming to wound but not kill if he can.
Then he sees a flash of a black coat out of the corner of his eye. "Courser!" his instincts scream. He turns and fires.
But it isn't a Courser he's firing at. There is no Courser there. Never was.]
Shit!
☄ Step 3: ???? & Step 4: Profit
[He never escaped the Caducan ship, took it upon himself to cover the escape of others. Now there's hardly anyone left. Most of the Moira crew evacuated, the Caducan crew gone to invade the Moira and passed through the Ingress or else reduced to cooling corpses on the floor of their ship.
Deacon sits on the ground, heedless of the blood, waiting for a transport from the Moira to come and take the last stragglers back.]
There's an awesome Old World word that comes to mind right now, really poetic and totally appropriate. SNAFU. Oo! Or maybe FUBAR. Which do you think?
[Deacon sounds cheerful, almost desperately cheerful. But his posture is tense, curled up tightly with knees tucked up, laser pistol still in one hand]
☄ We Break Fast, We Are Glass
[Back on the Moira, although he doesn't know how. One second they were on the Caducan ship, the next his face was in agony, like someone had taken a flame-thrower to it, and they were back on the Moira.
And his head is gone.
Not gone gone, but it's completely clear, made of solid glass. He's stood in the restrooms on Nomo deck for five minutes now just staring at himself in the mirror. He never looks at himself for this long. But it's not so bad when it's hard to make out features.
Then a whisper breaths in his ear, "Lookin' good, Red," but when he turns there's no one that close. He abandons the mirror to step in a slow circle, looking around the room. He focuses his attention on the other people in the restroom, none of them close enough to have been who spoke but maybe they heard it too. Or maybe he's just losing it.]
Hey. Hi. Yeah. I know striking up conversation in the john is against man-code, but did you hear something a second ago?
Deacon: OTA
[The night before their time is up, the night before their negotiating party is set to board the Caducan ship and try to find a peaceful way out of this, Deacon comes to his quarters to find a strange mask on his bed. He's not sure if the ugly thing is a peculiar prank or an unpleasant but well-meaning present. He suspects the former and suspects that it's Prometheus' doing. This sort of random action with intent to unnerve seems right up his alley. Either way, it's going off his bed and into a drawer, there to be forgotten.
The next day, negotiations go about as well as trying to negotiate with muties to convince them not to eat you. When the shots start, he activates his Stealth Boy, turning invisible with only a faint shimmer in the air, like a heat haze, giving away his position. He draws his laser pistol and fires a few shots at the Caducans, aiming to wound but not kill if he can.
Then he sees a flash of a black coat out of the corner of his eye. "Courser!" his instincts scream. He turns and fires.
But it isn't a Courser he's firing at. There is no Courser there. Never was.]
Shit!
☄ Step 3: ???? & Step 4: Profit
[He never escaped the Caducan ship, took it upon himself to cover the escape of others. Now there's hardly anyone left. Most of the Moira crew evacuated, the Caducan crew gone to invade the Moira and passed through the Ingress or else reduced to cooling corpses on the floor of their ship.
Deacon sits on the ground, heedless of the blood, waiting for a transport from the Moira to come and take the last stragglers back.]
There's an awesome Old World word that comes to mind right now, really poetic and totally appropriate. SNAFU. Oo! Or maybe FUBAR. Which do you think?
[Deacon sounds cheerful, almost desperately cheerful. But his posture is tense, curled up tightly with knees tucked up, laser pistol still in one hand]
☄ We Break Fast, We Are Glass
[Back on the Moira, although he doesn't know how. One second they were on the Caducan ship, the next his face was in agony, like someone had taken a flame-thrower to it, and they were back on the Moira.
And his head is gone.
Not gone gone, but it's completely clear, made of solid glass. He's stood in the restrooms on Nomo deck for five minutes now just staring at himself in the mirror. He never looks at himself for this long. But it's not so bad when it's hard to make out features.
Then a whisper breaths in his ear, "Lookin' good, Red," but when he turns there's no one that close. He abandons the mirror to step in a slow circle, looking around the room. He focuses his attention on the other people in the restroom, none of them close enough to have been who spoke but maybe they heard it too. Or maybe he's just losing it.]
Hey. Hi. Yeah. I know striking up conversation in the john is against man-code, but did you hear something a second ago?