i'm in the wrong place

Indie Pariah Greene

[mercer-safehouse]

I was going to make a joke about how Pariah was rude in his younger days but I feel like an asshole just for drawing this 8U

please excuse anatomical errors for now i’m literally sick and v tired

[before-the-infection]

protocrusader has entered the lab.

[before-the-infection]

It was then he dropped that calm expression into one of shock. No fucking way.

He’d only heard of Project Crusade from snooping on his boss. When he had been hunting for more information on Greene. Something about a baby, he remembered. Could the answers about that woman be standing right in front of him?

He was silent, mulling over his possible answers. It was hard to think when you knew the person you’re talking with can hear each thought. 

He sighed, looking up to make eye contact. Now that he thought about it, the kid did look a lot like her…

Not many people know about Project Crusade. He started with a frown. But from what I do know, I can say you’re very special. I know someone who would give his left nu— I mean, kidney, to see you in person like this.

[protocrusader-blog]

The shock from the scientist rolls over Pariah like a wave of cold water, raising goosebumps on his pale skin at the intensity of the feeling.

He fidgets in his seat, eyes darting from side to side before settling on the other man again. It's a struggle not to feel any sort of hope when there's finally a small possibility of receiving some answers.

I imagine even more people would be willing to give a 'kidney' to see me dead or worse. 

But he was curious enough to ask, To whom are you referring?

[shutterclick-kaboom-deactivated]

It might be of interest to note that despite all the possible consequences of helping a stranger he suspects might be in poor favor with an organized crime syndicate, not once does the question of whether or not this is a good or a bad idea cross his mind.

Once the request is made, Saiga’s thoughts start running again. A mental map of the area is checked, routes considered and possible havens either listed or discarded for one reason or another, all of it held against Blackwatch patrol paths and times. Whether or not the most efficient path would put them close too close to the operatives and raise questions, or just near enough to spook anything on the other man’s tail without causing notice. All in the time it takes to check his watch and take another quick glance around, no less.

"Well, unless you want to hide out in a place that’s paid for by the hour…" And he doesn’t sound thrilled about that plan, even if he’s willing to go with it, "The best shot might be the waterfront. It’s pretty deserted at the best of times."

He’s considering the other resources in the area as well now. Food, long term shelter, a place to find clothing for the naked man. All within a short distance if needed, and making Saiga hope that the latter option is chosen over the motels. As handy as they are, all it would take is the wrong person spotting him and he’d have some very interesting rumors to squash. The thought is enough to make him cringe internally.

"I parked a short way down the road, so there’s no need to walk there either. Up to you."

[protocrusader-blog]

"I...suspect you know the area better than I do."

It's stunning, how efficient this man's mind is, how clear his thoughts are and how quickly they move from one to another. He envies that efficiency, his own thoughts often lacking that sort of clarity.

What troubles him is the possibility of crossing Blackwatch, of being recognized, and the fight that would no doubt follow.

The idea of the other man being caught in the middle of the bloodshed makes Pariah...anxious. He doesn't seem as concerned for his own wellbeing as most humans.

"If you think the waterfront is our best bet, I'll follow your lead."

Pariah's getting the impression he's got experience avoiding people, and going along with his plan without argument seems like their best bet on avoiding trouble.

[protocrusader-blog]

[I FINALLY GOT OVER MY ANXIETY ISSUES AND WANTED TO ROLEPLAY AGAIN AND I GOT SICK BUT I'M BACK ANYWAY BECAUSE I'M ITCHING TO ROLEPLAY, I'M SORRY FOR THE DELAYS AND I HOPE YOU'VE ALL BEEN WELL! 8I]

[protocrusader-blog]

[Hello friends I swear I'm still alive and I'll get to roleplay replies as soon as I can!]

[protocrusader-blog]

Are there sensory inputs (sounds, lights, colors, textures, etc.) you avoid or dislike? What about ones you're drawn to?

Flashing, bright lights are disorienting. I've never liked them. I prefer dimmed lights or complete darkness, because I see well enough in low-light conditions. 

There are some sounds that annoy me, as well, but the repeated snapping of bubblegum or the clicking of a tongue would get on anyone's nerves after a while. Or blaring alarms and sirens. Or high-pitched noises in general. Beeps, shrieks. People screaming.

And I don't like clothes. Touching me. It feels like I'm being trapped. But skin-tight clothes are preferable to loose, baggy clothes, when necessary.

As far as specific textures, I dislike (hate) satin. I can't explain in words why, exactly, but there you go.

On the other hand, I can't think of anything I'm drawn t

wait

I like food. That's something I enjoy, I think. Especially things with strong flavors.

[protocrusader-blog]

What do you think of shiny things?

"Depends."

My feelings vary from object to object.

[before-the-infection]

protocrusader has entered the lab.

[before-the-infection]

He walked round to sit at his desk, figuring it would be better for them to be comfortable during what would more likely than not being a very long conversation. Leaning back in his seat, he motioned for the other to sit down as well.

Watching the limb morph, admittedly, made his skin crawl. The sounds more than anything. To him, it sounded like the crunching and breaking of bones and the tearing of flesh. They’d never had the chance to actually see what goes on under the skin when a Runner or Prototype changes forms. It was entirely on will, and it was kinda hard to convince a subject to do so when under an x-ray.

He turned to pull a thick, old binder out and put it on top of his desk. Well, from what I’ve seen, you could be one of two things. To find out for sure, I’m going to need your name. Where you came from would be helpful, too.

[protocrusader-blog]

There. There was a bit of the revulsion he'd come to expect, but still none of the bone-chilling terror he was just as used to. There was curiosity, too, but not as invasive as what he'd felt from the scientists he'd been surrounded by for most of his life.

Pariah stares down at his clawed hand for a moment and changes it back, curling his hand into a fist and lowering it.

Vandenberg Air Force Base. California. 

His eyes turn to the chair across from the human, contemplating it. He's never been...invited to sit, before. He takes him up on the offer before he can think too much into it, sinking into the seat.

It's...a weird sensation. Comfortable. He's not used to it. It's distracting him from answering, however, so he tries to ignore it.

Pariah. Project Crusade. 

There are more dates, experiments, names Pariah could give the man, but it's all jumbled together and he hasn't managed to disconnect everything, and he's not sure how well a sudden and unasked-for flood of memories would go over.

[protocrusader-blog]

What's the worst thing about humans? The best? Alternately, what are the most interesting and repelling things?

"Worst: they exist. Best: they're easy to catch when I'm hungry."

Alternately, the most interesting thing about humans is their adaptability. The cities they've built. Their determination to survive. At the same time, all those things are disgusting, as well--they're willing to tear down anything not-human to expand their empires. They don't care about nature, about flora or fauna or anything. They don't even actually care about each other. If you're not a Caucasian male, you have no voice. You're not important. You are less than dirt.

Sometimes race doesn't matter. Some humans think they're better than everyone and everything else, that they're God's gift to man, that they have a right to 

anything

that they want

that they can do whatever they feel is necessary

to whoever they want

to achieve their goals

to advance humanity

to advance the race they don't even care about, not really. They have themselves deluded into thinking they're doing what they think is best for the people.

Some of them just like ruining lives and hurting 

...

"I've said enough."

[protocrusader-blog]

How often do you get things from people's minds you REALLY didn't want to know?

"Never."

[protocrusader-blog]

Is there a place you would like to go?

"Somewhere with less humans."

[protocrusader-blog]

do you have freckles to go with the red hair

"No."

[cocoscabin]

Reblog if you will answer LITERALLY ANY anon questions.

[protocrusader-blog]

BRING IT ON

[before-the-infection]

protocrusader has entered the lab.

[before-the-infection]

He nodded a with a smirk, glancing off to the side. It was as if he was proud of himself. And why wouldn’t he be? Not many had the bravery (and resources,) to stand up to his borderline tyrant of a boss. In a sense, GENTEK scientists were like a flock of sheep. Forced to follow the orders of their shepherd, or in Mercer’s mind at least, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

Turning back to the infected standing in front of him, the doctor took the coat and watched the ‘clothing’ form. No matter how many times he’d seen it, it never ceased to amaze him. How the virus worked was almost always on his mind, and the changing of their appearance as no different.

Right, straight to it, then? He raised a brow. What is it you want to know?

[protocrusader-blog]

There's no shock, no negative reaction to Pariah's body shifting and changing to form secondary layers.

The human seems to...enjoy seeing it, instead of being disgusted or terrified. The complete lack of revulsion is a welcome deviation from the usual pattern of reactions, even if it is unexpected. He doesn't linger too long on the reaction, though.

Everything, he tells him. There's too much I don't know. 

About himself. About his enemies. What he's capable of doing, but hasn't figured out yet. 

He presents his hand to the scientist, skin darkening as his fingers warp and lengthen, turning into needle-like claws. 

This was something he'd been able to do for as long as he could remember. This, along with his body's regenerative capabilities and his...peculiar dietary needs, had always fascinated scientists. They'd poked and prodded and asked questions but had never answered Pariah's questions. The ones who had tried to give him some understanding of what he was beyond being not human never lasted long. Pariah held no delusions whatsoever over what had happened to them.

Tell me what I am. You know of others like me, you're reacting too well to all of this not to. 

What little he'd been told implied the existence of others, but even then, he'd been told you're different but never what he's different from.

[before-the-infection]

protocrusader has entered the lab.

[before-the-infection]

He couldn’t help but snicker. No one he offered to help ever expected it, and that was the hilarious irony about it all. Even then, they never said anything about it. They usually just stared at him funny until they had escaped.

"Long story. Love my job and the pay, hate my boss and the human subjects. I’ll do just about anything to knock him off his high horse, and mostly because I know he can’t do jack shit about it other than warn me or rough me up a bit." And, unbeknownst to him, it all started with the mother of the man before him’

[protocrusader-blog]

You're very bold, he admits, because really, Pariah's impressed. It's not something he's felt toward a singular human before. He'd been impressed by civilization as a whole, but never a specific human.

Looking down at the garment in his hands, he finds that without the urge to spite the man for merely existing, the idea of putting it on doesn't seem so...offensive.

He starts to pull the coat on, pausing midway through and wondering if he should just form his own clothing. He's been holding off on doing just that for so long, and now that it's so cold his reasoning has basically come down to petty spite and idiotic pride, more than his aversion to clothing.

Which is, admittedly, pretty stupid.

Hang on, he projects, frowning as he pulls the coat back off and tosses it to the scientist. 

Starting at his hips and working their way downward, tendrils of skin and muscle rise up and change texture and shape, forming pants. A skin-tight shirt follows in an attempt to better cover up without forming excess material.

[corpsetechnician]

"Yeah, I can, one of the many benefits of being me." He remarked sarcastically.

He could feel the other poking around in his head again. “For fuck’s sake, just talk to me, not using telepathy. Jesus, I «really» don’t want more voices. To answer your question, I’m not human. And if you want me to explain more, you’re gonna answer «my» question.” If you think for a second you can find anything in here, good fucking luck.

[protocrusader-blog]

It would be...possible, after some digging, but Pariah isn't sure he wants to stick his hand directly into that beehive, since he's not sure what he'll find there aside from what this man is.

Pulling a bit of a face, he goes ahead speaks aloud.

"I was a research subject." 

[before-the-infection]

protocrusader has entered the lab.

[before-the-infection]

Okay, yeah. This kid was fucking with him.

He narrowed his eyes and quirked a brow. Telepathy. At this rate, infected would be able to turn invisible or some shit. He let a sigh out through his nose and looked back up.

He reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out his phone, taping the screen a few times. Moments later, the security camera in the corner of the room deactivates.

"If you cover up, at least, I’ll tell you what you need to know."

[protocrusader-blog]

Invisibility. There's an idea. Pariah wonders at the possibility of it, though, as nice as it would be.

Before he can think too much on it, the scientist is moving, reaching for something, and Pariah takes a quick step back, expecting an attack--

And it doesn't happen. Pariah's thrown for a loop; he was expecting to have to twist his arm a bit, to have to intimidate him into being helpful, but no. No, there's no sign in the scientist's head that he's either preparing to attack or calling for help or that he's intending to resist in any way.

"What."