[holo | Sanctuary] enter the snarkdragon... who will be doing less snarking and more wtfing

[smecker]

He'd been shot. This knowledge percolated dully in Paul Smecker's brain, along with an undercurrent of brilliant observation there, Agent Smecker. Other bits of knowledge-- awareness that at least one of the bullets had hit his lung, because there was no air, just that fiery agony and the distant whistling noise as air leaked out his heaving lungs

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[ voice ]

[tothelibrary]

More than one, actually! [ dawn, seriously. don't be chipper at the new arrivals, it freaks them out. ]

This isn't one of them, though. Welcome to Taxon.

[Holo I think]

[smecker]

There's a voice coming out of the floor, by his feet.

"Sweet shit," Paul yelps, and jumps, reaching for a gun he's not wearing. Great. Great. That's right. It's lying ten feet away from him in the alley. There is no alley. What the hell is speaking?

There's something that looks sort of like a phone at his feet. He stares at it like it might bite.

"....come again?" he ventures after a second, when nothing more happens.

[ voice ] and you're right, smecker'd be holo for the first bit!

[tothelibrary]

[ ...okay, so. new guy is very freaked out. there will be no trolling of this one. ]

Taxon. Welcome to it.

[ okay, not much trolling. ]

[Holo]

[smecker]

"Tax on. Right." He says this on automatic, spinning in place as he tries to get a grip on location. Where the hell is he? What in fuck's name just happened? He knows from hallucinations, and this sure as hell doesn't feel like one.

Deep breaths. Do not hyperventilate. It will not help. There is a logical explanation. There always is.

He looks down. His shirt front is a bloody mess; he probes at it gingerly with his fingertips to verify to himself the flesh beneath is whole and un-shot. The blood's still damp. The shooting happened.

"Fucking.... what just... Okay, so Taxon is, what, hell's waiting room?" he says, and laughs a little. Oohhh that laughter sounds like it's verging on hysterical. Not good he tells himself. Keep breathing. Evenly.

[visual] because Cain knows how disconcerting |voice| can be]

[tin_hearts]

It was almost a relief to hear someone as upset as he was when he first arrived here; in the same room, reacting just as badly.

But It's almost a relief didn't actually mean it made him feel any better. He had a bit of first hand experience with panicking in front of a whole city, even if he didn't know so at the time. He couldn't stop himself from picking up the tablet to offer some advice. Or at least, to try to help.

"Sir? My name's Wyatt Cain," he said, aiming for exuding calm more than anything. Even if just the sight of the room made his skin crawl.

"I know it's little comfort, but you're not the only one here."

Re: [visual] because Cain knows how disconcerting |voice| can be]

[smecker]

Smecker stares down as the display changes to a new face. He listens-- then resists the urge to throw the damn thing down onto the ground and grind it underfoot.

There is this, at least-- the new guy's tone suggests (at least to Smecker's currently panicked mind) that he might be some sort of Authority. Maybe.

"...hello, Mr. Cain," he says flatly, while thinking that's got to be a code name. Cain. Seriously. "Paul Smecker. So let me guess. This is the point where you tell me you've got the boys as well, or one of them, and this is where we start making bargains and plea-deals and 'if you know what's good for you' and all that bullshit, hm?"

Re: [visual] because Cain knows how disconcerting |voice| can be]

[tin_hearts]

Okay, that didn't go down too well. Not that he expected it to. Good thing he's done this sort of thing a thousand times before. Talking to frightened civilians after a traumatic event.

He can't remember if he's ever tried doing the same to a fellow cop - or what sounds more and more like one. He frowns, and gives the other man a small shake of his head. The sad truth of the matter is, it would've been so much easier to deal with if that had been the next logical step.

"Boys?" It's starting to ring one too many bells for his personal taste; hit way too close to home. "I'm sorry, Mr. Smecker, but I have no way of knowing where your boys are. I'm sure if they're here, they'll contact you. You're broadcasting all over town, pretty hard to miss."

[Holo]

[smecker]

Paul bares teeth in something like a nasty smile. "Oh no. They're not my boys. I am not their daddy. Connor and Murphy already have two Daddies, one of them divine, so thank fucking Christ I don't have to take on that role for them too--"

He is babbling, he realizes. The stress of the last few days, the stress of the situation, and just when everything finally looked like it was going to be OVER, over and done, blissful fucking oblivion, THIS happened.

Whatever this is. He still doesn't know. But he knows he's totally losing his ability to self-censor. Bad. Bad. His mouth snaps shut and he takes a deep breath, glares at the face looking back from the pad at him. Also nobody he's ever seen before.

What the shit is this?

Something the man said processes, belatedly. "....what do you mean, broadcasting all over town? What the hell are you people talking about?"

[ visual ]

[thesecondslayer]

Yeah, about a freaking million different ones if the tweed brigade's on the money. You're not in one of 'em and you're really goddamn loud, so calm down and deal.

[ ah, the dulcet tones of one faith lehane. (that would be the traces of a boston accent still left in her voice you're hearing there, smecker.) ]

[Holo]

[smecker]

Paul stares at the screen speechless (not that it lasts long, but it's a memorable occasion however brief). Then his lips curl back in a semi-conscious snarl at the girl.

"Calm down and deal? I'm loud? Princess McBitch, this is nothing approaching full fucking volume. This is me handling inversion of the universe with admirable fucking class, dignity, and fucking sang FUCKING froid. If you have a problem with my goddamn volume I suggest you come closer so I can puncture your eardrums with a proper high C as-in-cunt."

Oh. He's actually sounding halfway like himself there. Ah, the therapeutic value of having someone it seems he can be angry at.

[ voice ]

[thesecondslayer]

[ faith's quiet for a moment and then she just laughs, because that was a pretty badass rant and she can appreciate the need to piss all over someday else just because your day's sucking. ]

Hey, I'm not the dude freaking the fuck out and stuck in the newbie rec room, so I think I'm cool staying here.

Re: [ voice ]

[smecker]

Paul narrows his eyes at the laughing woman in a death glare that sends junior agents scurrying. It is perhaps less effective on Slayers.

"Yes, I am sure it is just shits-and-giggles galore to watch someone flail in a fucking fishbowl. So glad I can provide you with entertainment. Who the fuck are you?"

[ visual ]

[faderbroderson]

The boy who appears on the screen can't be much more than sixteen, or so you'd assume. But there's a calm, still maturity about him that can border on unnerving at times, and it doesn't mesh well with his appearance. He looks at Paul with empathy.

"I wouldn't call it Hell, but it has its moments."

[Holo]

[smecker]

Paul stares into the screen at the face staring back at him-- looks like a 'precocious' teenager to him. Looking at him with a goddamn there there look (or so Paul interprets it). Jesus, fucking teenagers are watching his freak-out now.

He grits his teeth. "I'm likely experiencing a 'moment' now, huh. So who're you?"

[ visual ]

[faderbroderson]

Godric raises an eyebrow. He can't help but experience a little wry amusement. If Paul thinks this is a hellish moment, Godric can only wonder how he'll cope with glitches.

"While arrival can be disorienting, that isn't quite what I was referring to. But I suppose it's all a matter of perspective. My name is Godric."

The more one talks to Godric, the more one begins to suspect that he's definitely older than he looks. How much older is the interesting part.

Re: [ visual ]

[smecker]

"Well, my perspective is that I just got shot full of enough lead to slow down an elephant, so at the moment I should be dead, and instead I'm dealing with some fucking inexplicable hallucinations, so frankly, hell seems a pretty good bet at the moment," Paul answered shortly.

"Godric. Right. Paul Smecker. Got anything to add to the welcome wagon of absurdity I'm getting, kid?"