(Untitled)

[one_who_is_many]

Who: The Borg Queen/Morgan/Prefect/Elle/Amber.
Where: Just outside the Queen's chamber.
What: Recruitment...
Warnings: Violence, mind-rape, etcetera.

Comments

[gimmethemap]

Morgan did not expect to be approached. Usually, if she came up here, it was solely to speak with West, and today was just such an occasion. She'd wanted to ask if he'd found the ferret yet, and if it was his hairy little thief or hers that was responsible for something being missing from her desk. When someone spoke to her, she did not immediately let her mind go to the notion of danger, but once she saw who had spoken she had to try not to appear taken aback by the speaker's appearance.

Not everyone that came to the Barge was human, but at least most everyone that claimed not to be could be mistaken for one. This woman -- only patially so. The facial features, the basic shape -- these things were certainly human, but the rest of her struck Morgan with a kind of uneasiness that made Morgan think of the monsters back on the colony.

The pirate took a step back away from her, more on reflex, than anything else.

"Likewise," she said guardedly.

[one_who_is_many]

Just the slight beginnings of a smile threatened to break the otherwise impassive look upon the being's face. The Queen held a superior air about her, even at the best of times, but with awareness of capabilities being fully restored, she was now very much a tarantula in the chicken house. Even away from the neon green of her inner sanctum, there was something of an ethereal majesty about her. For a creature of mottled grey skin and inhuman gaze, she seemed somehow dangerously alive

[gimmethemap]

Morgan had started to get to the point where she sometimes just didn't think or talk about the Morning Star, or her crew. Usually it meant the wrong people would hear and there would be much finger pointing and frowning. But she was not treated as less capable because of her gender -- save by a few people; it was more her former occupation. It was being a pirate.

That having been said, she has a somewhat skeptical, but humorous look as the Queen goes on talking. Unfortunately it means that she's relaxing a little. "I don't really look at it that way, but either way it pushed me to work harder," she offered. "I could have had it a lot worse."

[one_who_is_many]

"You could have," came the agreeable reply. "Adversity taught you resiliance. Adaptation."

A full history was not necessary to catch that much, no more than a detailed engineering schematic was reuired to estimate a vehicle's performance. The Queen's need for social networking had forced her to practically devour as much as was possible of the networked journal logs, including the to and fro of commented replies. She knew enough of Morgan to realise how resourceful she could be. Someone of instinct, fiery nature and unwillingness to back down from confrontation.

She would make an excellent first candidate

[buywithme]

Prefect liked the Borg Queen.

He liked her uniformity, he liked the way she spoke, he liked the fact that she referred to herself in the plural sometimes! Proceeding to her room, he felt no sense of foreboding, not even the slightest concern that something could be amiss. Since coming to the barge he'd discovered that his Personality tended to be in some demand, so for someone to want him to come to their cabin for purely that reason was not at all strange.

As for the assorted reports of brief bursts of powers returning? Well, that might have concerned him more if he'd been invited over by Elle, or Sylar, but as far as he understood, the Borg Queen's defining feature was her collective, and he was fairly sure that a momentary change couldn't give that back to her. Even if it had done, she'd never threatened him in any way, so Prefect had no reason to hesitate before going to the Queen.

It took him only a few minutes to walk to her door, and rap his knuckles across it, waiting for a response from within.

[one_who_is_many]

Unlocking, the barrier shunted open. The Queen's strangely exotic figure standing on the other side in welcoming pose. Within, mentally, she was renewed. Any other Borg might have been encountering severe problems for such a prolonged space of time on its own. the Queen, however, seemed to identify herself as the Collective, inferring a greater level of potential autonomy than most.

Even so, the loneliness had hurt. Hurt more than was ever externally let on.

And now it was no more. Now all would come to know the Collective or perish. The ship would become yet another tool of the Borg, used to launch new conquests.

"Welcome, Comrade," she spoke, having identified more with this resident, than any other. A hand extending itself towards him in friendship. "We've been expecting you. Come, join us. Captain Adams has been making herself most useful..."

[buywithme]

Prefect entered the room pretty much as soon as the doors open, glancing up at the Borg Queen and offering her one of his most professional smiles. Pleasantly oblivious to what the Queen had done, he was quite comfortable in approaching her, only hesitating slightly when she mentioned Captain Adams. Even then though, his smile did not falter.

"Sister! Thank you for inviting me!" He exclaimed, glancing deeper into the gloom of the Queens chamber. He tilted his head slightly, before looking back towards her with an expression of bemusement on his face, "I'm sorry, did you say Morgan was here?"

[one_who_is_many]

The door shut and locked behind him, with all the tenacity of a steel trap. The Queen truly did want him, for the same reasons as she had wanted 'Locutus' and the android, Data. Willingness... A pre-conditioned mind, totally accepting of both authority and its place in the great scheme of things.

There were a few choice others, that much was true. In a palce like this, there were bound to be, but Prefect... He was special. He was already almost more Borg than human being.

"Yes... And a good deal more understanding of the Collective, thanks to your own provisions, Prefect."

There was no sudden move to attack him, no more than a paarent would have reason to strike a compliant child. She smiled warmly at the man and took his hands in her own.

"Do you remember our last conversation? About desires...? The craving for systematic purity... We can share that now, Prefect. I can give you that, just as I gave it to Morgan did... She so much better now, Prefect. She understands."

[cautionarystory]

Elle approached the Queen's room cautiously and knocked even more cautiously. She wasn't entirely sure about her new boss - in fact, she knew absolutely nothing about her. But so far no amount of scheming with Adam or Sylar had gotten her a single step closer to getting her ability back. If the Borg Queen could make that happen, then Elle was more than willing to play lackey until she had her power back.

"Hello?" she called, turning the doorknob to see if the door was unlocked.

Why she couldn't just get orders over journals, she had no idea. But people were quirky. Whatever. She'd deal. And once she had her ability back, she'd kill the Queen anyway, so it wasn't like it mattered.

[one_who_is_many]

One Of Two. Two Of Two.

Soon, that last number was going to change to 'Three'.

Morgan held strategy and instinct. Prefect gave willing conformity. Elle... Elle held a most unique trait. One which promised the Collective a potential new source of power and offensive ability, once sufficiently analysed to transfer across the Collective, as a whole.

But that would be later. When the ship was sufficiently purged of threats to start adapting the vessel, itself. Then security protocols could be lifted in general. Until then, Elle was going to give her new Queen-to-be a successive third functionary and, from her, many more, besides. An army of three would increase to four and then a campaign of mass assimilation would begin.

And with each new member, their collective mind grew stronger, more assured, more capable of overpowering every new additional victim

[cautionarystory]

Elle had been pushing against the door, trying to make it open rather than waiting for it to be opened for her. So when it gave way, she overbalanced and stumbled into the room, blinking in the weird green light.

"Uh. Hi. What am I doing here, exactly?" She kept her distance from the Queen, unwilling to trust anyone who hadn't earned it. But she wouldn't ever admit to the trepidation she felt. Instead she tried to appear confident and self-assured. "I'll do whatever you want me to, but... you can just give me orders over the journals. This is kinda creepy."

[one_who_is_many]

"But however could we properly thank you, otherwise? We will extend to you the gift of perfection, Elle. As we seek to improve ourselves, so will you benefit from our perfection."

Behind the blonde, the door shut with a loud echo. Danger signals had to be going off now, yet the Queen did little more than simply... Approach her. Without weapons in either hand, what possible danger could she be?

"You've provided so much assistance, Elle... Enough to help Perfect and Captain Adams appreciate the Collective's needs. Would you like to see them?"

[warmscalpelhigh]

Just when she thought she could tough it out...an offer she couldn't refuse. Amber thought the Borg Queen was hella creepy, but the lure of surgery was too great. She told herself that she would just get something small. Maybe just a facelift or a new nose. It wouldn't be like before.

And the Queen was right, she really did deserve it. She'd been pretty good, stayed off the drugs for a couple of weeks... Amber was almost giddy with anticipation. But she knew she'd have to talk to the Queen about painkillers first. She didn't have any Z, and she wasn't about to go through anything excruciating without heavy duty meds.

The woman (if that's what she was) lived next to her, so it wouldn't take long, but Amber couldn't wait. She stepped out in the hallway, eager to get the ball rolling.

[one_who_is_many]

"Hello, Amber..."

The Collective really was practically singing now. The next - and potentially most physically applicable - member, was waiting to join in ways even she had yet to comprehend. The Queen was not so different to Amber, in some respects... She, too, was an addict, whose passions had now rediscovered their ferocity. She was a regulator. A provider. The Collective needed and she would take.

"I was hoping for this special moment with you," she smiled, approaching the girl with an affectionately expressive tilt of of head. "We've searched for perfection for so long... And you, Amber. You are beautiful."

Never mind that the girl might not realise in what sense the compliment was meant. The Queen saw her as someone more ready than any other to truly appreciate the surgical enhancement of full Borg assimilation.

And that, to her, was a truly noble quality.

[warmscalpelhigh]

There was something about the woman's tone that made Amber think she was flirting--if that's what the tin and smoke sound of her voice could even convey.

"Cool, thanks." She smiled charmingly and pushed her hair back with a the careless ease of a natural coquette. "So yeah...perfection."

The whole we business was weird, but everyone on the Barge was different. So, Amber just largely ignored it, chalked it up to some sort of verbal quirk.

And Amber really did like being told that she was beautiful.

"So, what sort of surgery are you offering, and you know, what kind of meds?" She found herself pressing into the wall out of some sort of instinct, but she ignored it. This was surgery...so, it wasn't the time to get weirded out.

[one_who_is_many]

None of which stopped the cybernetic dominatrix from closing the distance, with that strange combination of predatory awe she held for those considered especially worthy of receiving the gift of assimilation.

"Everything, Amber... Everything you could possibly desire. Zydrate simply won't compare to the synthesis of Borg perfection you'll become accustomed to..."

The Queen seemed, in body language, at least, a veritable omnisexual being. A sensual mix of mental carnivore and seductress, as potentially terrifying as she was alluring. A potent cocktail of, quite literally, trillions of beings across an entire galaxy - if not even further afield.

And now she was close enough to trail one gloved hand delicately around Amber's face, fingertips sliding carefully down that line of jaw. A woman who had submitted to countless surgeries in her own pursuit of aethetic perfection.

Perfection...

A subtle click on wrist and two prehensile tendrils of metal extended from wrist. The Queen smiling wide, as they, not threatenned, but actually