thanks so much!angledtwat777June 17 2009, 23:16:41 UTC
Chekov, was, in fact, actually in front of the biggest police station in all of London. The Metropolitan.
He was quite fortunate, actually, that Nicholas had decided to head on out after talking to a whack job with a love for italics. He didn't know who he was looking for, but he figured he would stand out, since the...he didn't even know his name. The...boy. Yes. The boy would recognize who he was.
He stood outside in a white polo and black slacks, looking about as though he was a lost tourist.
He'd thought highly of this kid right off the bat, actually. He seemed to be the most sane of all of them. And considering he knew very little about Star Trek, he had no material to judge him on.
Chekov couldn’t help but give the building an awed once over. San Francisco had been all bright lights and glass buildings, and Russia was old and rounded with time, but London had a completely different air about it. He clamped down on the wonder of actually being in his past long enough to look around.
Constable Angel looked exactly like Scotty in real life too. Same height, same build. It made him easy to pick out of a crowd.
Chekov brushed off his uniform, noticing how out of place he looked, and strode toward the man. He offered a smile, looking nervous but no less enthusiastic about the meeting.
The accent was obvious when he spoke, “Hello, sir.”
To be honest, Nicholas had grown rather detached from the beauty of London. He was always on its streets, seeing the ins and outs of it, the worst and filthiest of parts. He saw perpetrators on the street at all times, watching and waiting and observing. A man with an overly large jacket? Hiding something, had to be.
His skepticism was probably what led to the downfall with Janine.
When the boy approached him, he stared down at him curiously. What did this kid want? Why was he dressed in that silly thing? "I'm off duty, but can I help you?" he asked immediately.
And then it hit him.
"Oh, you're..." he smiled, extending his hand. "I'm afraid I never caught your name."
The smile help eased the knot in Chekov’s gut. It was starting to sink in that he had just been “magically” transported to a world he was unfamiliar with, and no one on the crew knew. But Angel was a police officer, and that inspired a certain amount of trust.
That and the adventure had more pull than any fear did.
“I am Pavel Andreievich Chekov, but Pavel is fine” he informed quickly, careful to pronounce everything correctly. He gave the constable’s hand a firm shake. “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
He glanced back at the other buildings, then up at the sky. “I must be lucky, it is not raining.”
He looked up at the sky as he released his hand, squinting. "I'll forewarn you if you ever come back about the weather, Pavel."
Nicholas turned to head off down the street, fully intent on getting home before Janine and not letting her know anything about this.
That's was probably the second part of the reason they were going downhill as quickly as they were.
"So...how was your hop? What was it like?" he asked, taking careful measure to not walk faster than his new Russian partner as he spoke. Out of habit, he pulled out his extra notepad in his pants pocket and opened it. He was more than used to walking and writing at the same time.
Pavel followed immediately, more than used to following after commanding officers. Despite the warning, the notepad struck him as strange. More for the fact that it was an actual notepad and not at all an electronic device used for taking notes. He grinned despite himself, amused.
“The hop was fine, I think. Much more disorienting than the transporters though. It was…” There was a slight pause as he made a meaningless gesture with his hands, looking for the words. “Odd. There was no breaking down of my structure, so I am still unsure of how it is done. But,” he pulled his communicator off his belt and held it up, “this should provide new readings.”
Should. Assuming the community hadn’t inferred with his equipment. That had happened far too often already.
“Despite seeing it, I still do not think it magic,” he added.
Nicholas noticed that little grin, but he said nothing of it. His hand was like lightning, writing down every single word the Russian said, every little intonation of his voice being marked with an accent or an underline. "Think it magic," he ended, clicking his pen and looking up at the sky.
"No, magic is highly unlikely," he replied, maneuvering past a waste basket on the side of the walk. "Of course, it's not illegal like it was back in the days of the Puritans. If someone thinks they can practice 'magic,' then who is the law to take away their silly spell books and top hats?"
He mumbled. "Just as long as they aren't sacrificing goats again."
Watching the man write was impressive. Chekov didn’t think he could take anything down that quickly save numbers and they weren’t exactly comparable to words.
A chuckle escaped Chekov. “I do not think it is that kind of magic. I think it is--wait goats?” he echoed incredulously, voice raising slightly in pitch. He halted, shooting the constable a questioning look before resuming his walk. “People do not really sacrifice goats, do they?”
It was a concerning prospect. If they sacrificed goats then what else would they see fit to kill for “magic”? But he had met Eris and she hadn’t killed anything to leave.
“The gods do not from what I have seen. I cannot say for anyone else.”
"Voodoo, I believe," he replied shortly, waiting for the light to change and flipping to the next page. "We rarely have a problem with it, though it's happened before. Sometimes it turns out to be teenagers gutting cats just to get a laugh."
He would have shuddered at that seventeen years ago; now it was just every day routine. Domestic violence, rape, cocaine dealers, theft, robberies...a man could grow quite cold to it after a while.
"Yes, I heard briefly about these 'gods.' Do you know any of them?"
“Cats?” The revulsion was clear in Chekov’s voice. Why anyone would gut a cat, let alone for fun, was a little beyond him. Beheadings, cannibalism, cruelty to animals, this community was certainly exposing him to the darker side to human nature bit by bit.
“Well…” There was a small shrug, only given to buy him a moment more. “I met one. She appeared when I said I did not believe her about the community being real. Have you heard of Eris?”
"Yes, cats," he said, noticing the revulsion in the boy's voice. He looked over at him after a moment, deciding a change of topic would be best. He wouldn't want to overwhelm the apparently somewhat innocent Russian anymore than he already was. Police work was dirty business; Nicholas Angel knew that as a fact.
"Eris? The Goddess of...Chaos, is it? Greek mythology, correct?"
“Da,” Chekov agreed easily. “It is who she claims to be, at least. I am inclined to believe her after her visit.”
Which had been hadn’t been so bad really. Chekov almost wanted to like her, it was just that he knew better than to do it. He leveled the constable with a stern look, trying to seem forceful. There was no reason for Angel to get wrapped up in trouble too.
“Avoid her, is my advice. If any of the myths are true then she is very dangerous.”
"Her...visit?" he inquired, crossing the street, looking both ways as he did so. Finally, he stuffed the notepad back in its hiding hole and stuck the pen in the pocket on his shirt.
"Anyone who's described as a Chaotic Evil is certainly worth avoiding, I will admit. Why did you get involved with her the first place, Pavel?" he asked, shooting him a suspicious glance. "Are you up to mischief?"
Chekov resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn’t professional and it probably wouldn’t be appreciated. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead, watching the ground pass beneath his feet.
“Da, her visit. I did say she visited to prove me wrong, yes?” He shrugged again. If the officer wanted specifics on that he could ask.
At the word mischief Chekov looked up and unsuccessfully tried to stifle his laughter. “Me? I am sorry, but that is a rather silly idea.”
The humor faded and Chekov gave a small huff before speaking. “She spoke to me before I knew who she was and decided I was interesting.”
"I read a quote once that said 'it is always those beloved of the gods who die young.' You may want to slip off her radar before she starts up with that sort of adoration only deities are supposedly capable of."
Finally reaching the apartment, he took the stairs two at a time, watching Pavel, fully expecting him to keep up. "How did she happen to be able to visit you? Can the gods hop themselves with their special 'magic' powers?"
“I have tried, she is rather persistent. But it is no problem, I am Russian.” A lopsided grin overtook his features. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he was invincible, but he was certainly young enough to see death as some far off thing. This wasn't going to worry him.
It wasn’t a challenge to keep up with the constable, but it did make Chekov miss running. He would have to visit the gym again once he got back.
“She hopped herself,” he replied, glancing at Nicholas. “In a puff of smoke. It would have been funny if it had not been so strange.”
He was quite fortunate, actually, that Nicholas had decided to head on out after talking to a whack job with a love for italics. He didn't know who he was looking for, but he figured he would stand out, since the...he didn't even know his name. The...boy. Yes. The boy would recognize who he was.
He stood outside in a white polo and black slacks, looking about as though he was a lost tourist.
He'd thought highly of this kid right off the bat, actually. He seemed to be the most sane of all of them. And considering he knew very little about Star Trek, he had no material to judge him on.
Refreshing.
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Constable Angel looked exactly like Scotty in real life too. Same height, same build. It made him easy to pick out of a crowd.
Chekov brushed off his uniform, noticing how out of place he looked, and strode toward the man. He offered a smile, looking nervous but no less enthusiastic about the meeting.
The accent was obvious when he spoke, “Hello, sir.”
Reply
His skepticism was probably what led to the downfall with Janine.
When the boy approached him, he stared down at him curiously. What did this kid want? Why was he dressed in that silly thing? "I'm off duty, but can I help you?" he asked immediately.
And then it hit him.
"Oh, you're..." he smiled, extending his hand. "I'm afraid I never caught your name."
Reply
That and the adventure had more pull than any fear did.
“I am Pavel Andreievich Chekov, but Pavel is fine” he informed quickly, careful to pronounce everything correctly. He gave the constable’s hand a firm shake. “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
He glanced back at the other buildings, then up at the sky. “I must be lucky, it is not raining.”
Reply
Nicholas turned to head off down the street, fully intent on getting home before Janine and not letting her know anything about this.
That's was probably the second part of the reason they were going downhill as quickly as they were.
"So...how was your hop? What was it like?" he asked, taking careful measure to not walk faster than his new Russian partner as he spoke. Out of habit, he pulled out his extra notepad in his pants pocket and opened it. He was more than used to walking and writing at the same time.
Reply
“The hop was fine, I think. Much more disorienting than the transporters though. It was…” There was a slight pause as he made a meaningless gesture with his hands, looking for the words. “Odd. There was no breaking down of my structure, so I am still unsure of how it is done. But,” he pulled his communicator off his belt and held it up, “this should provide new readings.”
Should. Assuming the community hadn’t inferred with his equipment. That had happened far too often already.
“Despite seeing it, I still do not think it magic,” he added.
Reply
"No, magic is highly unlikely," he replied, maneuvering past a waste basket on the side of the walk. "Of course, it's not illegal like it was back in the days of the Puritans. If someone thinks they can practice 'magic,' then who is the law to take away their silly spell books and top hats?"
He mumbled. "Just as long as they aren't sacrificing goats again."
Reply
A chuckle escaped Chekov. “I do not think it is that kind of magic. I think it is--wait goats?” he echoed incredulously, voice raising slightly in pitch. He halted, shooting the constable a questioning look before resuming his walk. “People do not really sacrifice goats, do they?”
It was a concerning prospect. If they sacrificed goats then what else would they see fit to kill for “magic”? But he had met Eris and she hadn’t killed anything to leave.
“The gods do not from what I have seen. I cannot say for anyone else.”
Reply
He would have shuddered at that seventeen years ago; now it was just every day routine. Domestic violence, rape, cocaine dealers, theft, robberies...a man could grow quite cold to it after a while.
"Yes, I heard briefly about these 'gods.' Do you know any of them?"
Reply
“Well…” There was a small shrug, only given to buy him a moment more. “I met one. She appeared when I said I did not believe her about the community being real. Have you heard of Eris?”
Reply
"Eris? The Goddess of...Chaos, is it? Greek mythology, correct?"
Reply
Which had been hadn’t been so bad really. Chekov almost wanted to like her, it was just that he knew better than to do it. He leveled the constable with a stern look, trying to seem forceful. There was no reason for Angel to get wrapped up in trouble too.
“Avoid her, is my advice. If any of the myths are true then she is very dangerous.”
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"Anyone who's described as a Chaotic Evil is certainly worth avoiding, I will admit. Why did you get involved with her the first place, Pavel?" he asked, shooting him a suspicious glance. "Are you up to mischief?"
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“Da, her visit. I did say she visited to prove me wrong, yes?” He shrugged again. If the officer wanted specifics on that he could ask.
At the word mischief Chekov looked up and unsuccessfully tried to stifle his laughter. “Me? I am sorry, but that is a rather silly idea.”
The humor faded and Chekov gave a small huff before speaking. “She spoke to me before I knew who she was and decided I was interesting.”
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Finally reaching the apartment, he took the stairs two at a time, watching Pavel, fully expecting him to keep up. "How did she happen to be able to visit you? Can the gods hop themselves with their special 'magic' powers?"
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It wasn’t a challenge to keep up with the constable, but it did make Chekov miss running. He would have to visit the gym again once he got back.
“She hopped herself,” he replied, glancing at Nicholas. “In a puff of smoke. It would have been funny if it had not been so strange.”
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