Intro: action/video

[tothefly]

Who: Natasha
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Marsiva
When: pre-Shuffle (4/18)


[Audio/Video]
[The beginnings of this broadcast are nothing but a black screen, a soft rustling, the sound of regular breathing. After a few seconds the breathing stops. Dead silence follows, then more rustling as the screen goes from blackness to a brilliant white, then a spinning blur that finally resolves with a clattering noise into the lovely white ceilings of the Marsiva. After another moment of silence, a head of bright red hair creeps into the image as the comm is picked up, eventually revealing the face and shoulders of a woman in her twenties who is clearly Not Amused. While her expression is more or less schooled, there's definitely a sense of things being repressed, emotions hidden, and words carefully chosen.]

If this is your idea of a joke, Stark, there is nowhere you can run that I won't find you.

[The threat is obvious.]



[Action, early:]
The bump on the back of her neck was obvious and irritating. Invasive. It was the first thing she'd noticed, taking stock of her own body, the loss of her weapons which galled her almost as much as letting herself be rendered unconscious. That implant seems to be the source of all the knowledge she's finding herself with as she strides down the halls, some foreign part of her mind supplying helpful names and details as she takes in her surroundings. None if it is immediately useful, so she continues to file it away in her own mind--

Until she hits the viewing bay, and even Natasha looks shocked by the view. Enough so that she barely notices the other bodies in the room as she stares, lips parted and eyes wide.

"Bozhe moi..."


[Action, later:]
They can put her in space, put things in her brain, but they can't make Natasha anything but what she is, and what she is is resourceful. Anyone visiting what passes for a gym and hoping to exercise will instead be greeted by a partially disassembled piece of equipment, and Natasha herself busily invested in the practice of trying to remove a panel from the wall by one of the entertainment console using a piece of metal presumably from said equipment, as her comm beeps at her insistently.

Comments

[tothefly]

Natasha can hear the footsteps behind her, knows she should turn and react, but this is something she's never seen before, in all her life. Those sorts of things are few and far between. All that space, all that blackness...it isn't a video. She's almost certain. But she can't afford to check right now, especially with that voice right behind her, closer than she'd expected. Whirling, Natasha reaches for a gun that isn't there, hand brushing empty holster on her thigh, and there's no response from her bracers when she clicks the activation switch on her wrist. Damn.

Weaponless, she looks up. And up, and up, eyes widening then narrowing as she takes a step backwards, settling into a ready stance. "I wasn't planning on doing any sightseeing today." Her voice is admirably neutral, despite the circumstances.

[poozers]

She reminds him of John, of Vath, of Isamot. Of every trainee that came to him fresh from war. Her movements are sharp, calculated and trained, nearly mechanical in precision. He's impressed, but it's hollow. There's been too many soldiers in his lines.

"Easy, tiger," he says, hands held up. "I don't mean any harm. Just saw ya' lookin'. Kidnapped or not, that sky's still real." He nods to the window. "And it's still just as nice as if we were free. Now, what do I gotta do ta' convince ya' I'm not gonna rip your head off?"

[tothefly]

She knows soldiers when she sees them, too, even when they're very, very large, fleshy, vaguely bulldoggish beings. His facial expressions might be hard to read, but he doesn't miss the way she reaches for a weapon that isn't there, and his lifted hands are a signal that's pretty universal, from what she's seen so far. Natasha doesn't move, holds her ready stance with weight balanced and feet ready as her eyes travel all the way down and back up. It's a long way to go.

"Staying right there's a good place to start," she comments finally, and there's a slight easing of the tension in her shoulders, almost invisible. "How do you know it's real? Been out there?" She jerks her chin just slightly over her shoulder, towards the cold, black, glittering sight.

[poozers]

The idea that space could be fabricated tickles him and the amusement shines in his eyes. He does his best to contain a smile, nodding his head towards the window itself. "Out there? Sure, sure. Part of my job." Hands still raised, he glances back to her, wondering just how long this will take. Standoffs always felt like a blowhard's contest. "Fly through it pretty often," he continues, shrugging. "Pretty nice ta' look at when it ain't full of stuff tryin' ta' kill ya'." He chuckles, grinning back at her then pauses with a realization. Raising a finger, he tips forward a bit. "Which I ain't, by the way."

[tothefly]

It's not much of a standoff. He's got the size on her, but she's pretty sure she's faster--though it doesn't matter, particularly, since he's pretty clearly trying to talk her down. Any irritation she might feel at that is carefully hidden as she adjusts her posture, hands resting easy at her sides. By the time he finishes his speech, she's adjusted to the new situation and only lifts an eyebrow at him, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"So you say. I'm not doubting the existence of space, just whether or not that's actually it out there, or just a projection. It's not exactly hard to fake."