Already choking on my pride [OPEN]

[hellshot]

WHO: Reaper hellshot and OPEN
WHERE: Within the Fleet, some automated cafeteria
WHEN: Various times within the month, whenever he needs to eat.
WHAT: Reaper needs nutrients, touchscreens aren't his friend.
WARNINGS: Possible mention of how horridly deformed he is under his mask. It's bad.


[Dark fingernails tap against the metal counter he's currently standing in front of. If he wasn't wearing a mask, it would be easy to see the look of frustration on Reaper's face with his current predicament, so for now, the only way of knowing that the ghost of a man is pissed off is the wisps of black fog escaping from under aforementioned mask.

He hadn't gone on the previous mission with Sombra, and he had no interest in rescue missions, either. Which meant he hadn't seen the field of battle in little over a month--which meant he hadn't been taking in new nutrients from his surroundings to keep his body from decaying to a point of discomfort. Which meant he had to partake in his least favourite of activities: Eating.

Eating was difficult enough when your face was barely suited for it--but when the cafeteria closest to his living quarters was a fully automated one? It was like a really bad joke. Touchscreens worked when pressure was applied with an electrical charge--human skin was a great conductor for said electrical charge. Dead flesh didn't hold any sort of charge. So this was his predicament. He couldn't eat if he couldn't get the damn screen to work.

Frustrated, Reaper finally turns his head to glare at the individual waiting for their turn after him. He hated asking for help, so instead:]

Work this damn thing for me and I'll pay for your food, too.

[He's too tired for this bullshit today.]

Comments

[shabby]

[ Now see, here is a man—grim spectre of death that appreciates proper nutrition. He isn't a whiny pussy like Christopher was. He understands that protein is what makes someone a man. Or, well, in his case, a skeletal rictus of a man.

Vaas approves.

What he doesn't approve of is the selection offered by this vending console thing. He taps a finger against the screen. ]

This stuff is shit. Worse than all that junk Americans eat. [ Fast food. Doritos. Cola. It's terrible. Why eat that when there's fresh kills, coconuts, and mangoes aplenty? ] It's fake. You want real food, we should go hunting.

[ Looking up at him, Vaas smiles sharply, all teeth and violence. He's been here more than a month and hasn't killed or tortured anything. He's bored. ]

The crew people brought all those dinosaur things onto the ship. We could kill one of those. Lots of protein there.

[hellshot]

[Once Vaas takes over, he takes time to return his glove over his hand--hiding decaying fingers underneath the black leather and silver claws that have become more of a 'skin' for him than even his own body.

He scoffs when the man calls the food shit-- he'd be inclined to agree. It was like replicated food, even if a bit better than the slop they used to feed them in SEP. He'd still rather absorb nutrients the way he was used to. Which is why hunting sounded like a better idea.

That sharp smile keeps Reaper from arguing that there's not much game to be found in a fleet of ships, and there's a crackling sound from under his mask when Vaas suggests the 'dinosaurs.' The Fek and the Trilk, weren't they? Something like that--he can't be assed to remember.]

Hunt down and eat one of the creatures people are trying so hard to rescue from extinction? How cruel, Vaas. [Sombra had been pretty upset about pretty much helping cause that whole disaster, but... all the same.]

Though I suppose cornering and taking one away wouldn't go noticed. [An entire alien creature like that--he could absorb all the nutrients he needs for weeks off something like that.]

[shabby]

[ Maybe it's cruel. Vaas doesn't know. But then again, he doesn't much care either. The dinosaurs aren't his problem. He never tried to rescue any of them. ]

Law of the jungle. The strong survive. The weak die. [ He shrugs. ] And they're already extinct anyway. Who cares?

[ It's a big ship and there aren't that many of the things, but Vaas has seen more than a few in the last couple of days. He can find them again. ]

Come on. [ Tipping his head, he starts moving in the direction of the atrium, beckoning Reaper to follow him with a wave of his hand. ] We'll take get a big one. [ Glancing back of his shoulder, Vaas flashes a gleeful smile. ] Put some meat on those bones.

[hellshot]

[Maybe if they looked more like intelligent life instead of animals, he might find it in himself to care. But here stood a man who literally sucked all the nutrients out of dead humans, so it's not like he was uncomfortable with cannibalism of all things--nutrients had to come from somewhere. So why not a dinosaur-alien.]

We could count the number of people who care. How many people fit on one of those rescue ships? [He's trying to keep the unsettling laughter down a bit, but he's... absolutely failing.

He has absolutely no problem following Vaas, and does so. Though, the other might note that Reaper doesn't so much walk as he does glide. ]

Going to have to separate one of them from the pack first, unless you want chaos to break out.

[shabby]

[ Although he doesn't make a big deal out of it, Vaas does notice the way Reaper moves. It's swift and fluid, like something wild from the depths of the jungle. And it further cements in his mind that this really is some incarnation of Death.

How fucking awesome is that? He's made friends with Death. ]

Chaos is nice. I like chaos.

[ There's an almost dreamy kind of smile on his face as he sense it. The image of the dinosaur things stampeding through the ship is an entertaining one. But fun as it would be, a real hunter isn't that sloppy. ]

But we should probably isolate one. Take it down by itself. [ He reaches for his gun, but then switches over to the knife he keeps sheathed on his belt. It's quieter. ] I'll slit its throat maybe. Or stab it in the eye. That should kill it quick and quieter than a gunshot.

[hellshot]

[All he gives in reply is a dark, almost crackling laugh that echoes out from under his mask. Without bothering to look at Vaas, he thinks about the plan himself.

It's the best way to get things done, especially if they don't want to be caught. He knows damn well that the things are intelligent for hulking dinosaurs, so not being recognised while separating a member of the herd is important.

So he clicks the claw-like ends of his gloves together, pointing at his new friend.]

I can fill the room with smoke. Make it real hard for any of them to see proper, and we can spook one out of range of the rest under the cover of it.

Chase it to some abandoned place where noone will see or hear...

[And he drags a thumb across his own throat, slow and with a jerk at the end.]

And then you can finish it off without a sound.

[shabby]

[ Vaas likes a guy with a good sense of humor, and from the way Reaper laughs, he thinks that he's got one. At least, it matches Vaas' well enough.

He considers the plan Reaper's laying out with a thoughtful nod, his fingers tapping idly against the handle of his knife. Smoke sounds like it will work and he can absolutely take advantage of the confusion. ]

Sure. I can do that. It'll be quick. No one will hear it.

[ He doesn't believe in gods or ghosts or any of that supernatural bullshit the way his fucking sister did, but it's almost like something that watches over the hunt hears them and provides, because they aren't walking long before they come upon a group of Fek plodding along. A quick scan of the area reveals no crew that Vaas can see. Nonchalantly, he nudges Reaper in the side and nods toward the group. ]

Smoke 'em out.

[hellshot]

[Gods and supernatural shit wasn't something Gabriel had any use for, either--but if there was one thing that couldn't be denied, it was Death. And it settled deep into his skin and bone, and he'd gotten used to it like one broke in new shoes.

When he was nudged by his new friend, he didn't need much more of a signal than that. Sparing just a moment to glance at the other and his knife before he's up, and gliding out towards the pack of bumbling aliens. Honestly, after watching them for a while the damn things didn't look any more intelligent than space cows, so attacking them didn't even ping him with a sense of guilt. (Even if they were an endangered species now.)

Just before getting within view of the things, his body shifts; he's less the gliding image of death, and just a thick cloud of black fog. The shapeless fog swirls around the feet of the beasts once before soaring up into the air, and when it slams back down to the floor of the atrium, it's like a fire-less explosion of smoke.

It certainly does the job of confusing the entire pack, the things immediately reacting to the sudden invasion of carbon-smelling filth violently. Running to try to get away from the mess, and to a place where they could see what the hell was attacking them.


From the depths of the smoke, a pair of red eyes flash at Vaas.

Your turn, pal.]

[shabby]

[ It's quite possibly the coolest fucking thing Vaas has ever seen. And he's seen some crazy shit on Rook and during his time with the Rakyat. But this isn't the mythical giant bullshit that Citra always harped on and on about. This is a guy turning to fucking smoke.

Vaas wishes that he could turn to smoke. Watching the chaos it causes among the space dinosaurs, it looks like a really useful skill. He sees the eyes, recognizes his newest buddy, and grins a sharply sadistic grin. The message has been well received.

He isn't Jason. He doesn't have the tatau anymore. But Vaas has a lifetime of training to be the Rakyat's ultimate warrior behind him. He's fast as he darts forward, and the jump he takes is powerful enough that it gets him onto the back of the dinosaur that's been singled out. It bucks, feeling the weight, and he responds by lunging forward, grabbing it by the back of the head, and yanking the knife across what looks to be its throat. He follows the motion up by jamming the blade into its eye, piercing its brain.

The thing's dead before it hits the ground. Vaas falls with it, rolling out of the way of its heavy body. Getting to his feet, blood-spattered and riding the rush of adrenaline that killing always causes, he looks back the smoke and lifts his eyebrows. ]

Dinner's served, hermano.

[hellshot]

[It's effective, he has to admit. He's only ever met one man who was deft enough with a blade to be effective in battle, even against things that were unarmed or not even vaguely human-shaped. But in the short time between signalling Vaas to make his move and now, the creature was down without a single sound, blood pooling under its head from the now gaping holes in its throat and eye.

It smelled sharp, metallic, and he could feel the nanites just under the surface of his skin buzzing with hunger as his new friend announced Dinner is served.

A hand moves over the front of his mask as he re-forms out of that hanging cloud of black fog, back into the shape of a man, and he's not hiding a low, dark chuckle. There's still a haze of smoke around them, hiding them from view of their friends and still-confused family.]

Colour me impressed, Vaas. You couldn't have pulled that off better.

Take what you want from its body. Cut it off and hide it away. Leave me the rest.

[He doesn't plan on taking the entire animal for himself, after all--and it's best that Vaas take the meat he wants for now, before the fresh animal becomes a dried-out husk once Reaper's done with it.]