epidemiology | ( closed-ish? )

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( closed-ish? )

CHARACTERS: Vaughn and some other dudes
DATE: March?? Just March, all over the place
WARNINGS: Borderlands, Mettaton
SUMMARY: Hermit crabs and looting and some light shanking, nbd

[ prompts in the comments—feel free to leave me a wildcard! ]

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[ Mettaton's been having a rough time. he fried half his face, and... well, shit, does there really need to be another reason? he fried his goddamned face. it's fixed now, but Vaughn still feels bad. bad enough to actually invite him over to hang out. the two of them got off on a weird foot, but they're friends now. friends hang out, right? yeah. they're hanging out.

the apartment he shares with Olivia is a tiny studio. they don't have a lot of things, but it's clean and cutely decorated, thanks to her. a golden retriever (spoilers: it's a cloaked lion) snores unconcernedly on the couch, and in a corner, there's a small tank with a hermit crab in it. ]

Sooo yeah, make yourself at home! Sorry there's... nowhere to sit, really. Uh.

[ they probably should have hung out somewhere else. ]

[ the DollarClub: a veritable smorgasbord of reasonably priced items in excessive quantities. or at least, it was, until the whole zombie virus thing happened and people lost their collective shit. there was no one at the door checking membership cards anymore. the cheap pizza was all gone. the massive shelves were close to empty after weeks of frenzied looting.

...still, it was worth a look. anything even remotely approaching 'fresh' was long gone by now, of course, but there had to be a few hidden gems left over, right?

for example, Vaughn's found a six-pack of giant boxes of milkbones. he holds it up, looking a little unsure. ]

Do you think a dog would eat these if he was actually a lion?

[ bet you've never heard that before, Lilith. ]

Edited 2017-03-06 06:26 (UTC)

[ this had become something of a routine. ever since he'd (quite literally) caught Olivia collapsing from exhaustion in the riots, sapped almost completely dry from the overuse of her powers of healing and empathy, they'd made a compromise: she could help to her heart's content (read: until she could literally do no more), but once she started to falter, she had to hold on to him. it made it easier to carry her home that way when she inevitably passed out. he hated it, truthfully—watching her grow weaker and weaker was painful, but it made her happy to help, and he didn't have the heart or the right to deny her that. thus, it wasn't a lack of trust that kept him from letting her out of his sight as time went on, but an agreement that if and when she fell, he would catch her.

the fighting has been especially bad today. more and more people were becoming personally affected by the virus and the chaos of the quarantine, and so emotions were running higher and higher—anger, more often than not. it leaves him on edge even more than he usually is during these riot shifts. maybe that's why he's keeping an eye on her more closely, letting less time elapse before he starts following her; these people are hurting, he knows, but they aren't in their right minds, and some of them were undoubtedly infected themselves.

whether the guy staggering toward her is one of them or not doesn't matter. he's not great at hand-to-hand and he has no weapon to make up for it, but that doesn't matter, either. an intense rush of dread and adrenaline sends him tearing through the crowd, aiming for somewhere vaguely between them, not quite sure what he'll do once he gets there but not quite caring, either. his self-preservation instincts have gone flying out the proverbial window. he'll figure it out once he gets there.

he still doesn't know whether the man in question is infected, even once he's right in front of his face, but the sudden, searing pain in his side answers that question for him: it still doesn't matter. he must have seemed like a threat himself, running at the other man like that—maybe that's why he just got a little bit stabbed. it's hard to tell, what with the pain and the shock and the disbelief that the dude's already shuffling off in another direction like nothing just happened. must have been in self-defense, he tells himself, as he hunches over, clinging to a parked car with one hand and holding his now decidedly bloody side with the other.

weakly, he laughs a little—maybe out of shock, or maybe because he's weird—and, after glancing over to make sure Olivia's still okay, he slides to the ground in a heap, not unconscious but not all there, either.

he tried. ]

[To be perfectly honest, Mettaton originally had no intention of coming here.

It's... not an easy thing for him, to open up. Oh, he's MORE than happy to talk about himself!! His talents, his looks, his fame, his fortune, his fans! ...but anything deeper than that has always been. Uncomfortable. Vulnerable. Stars don't have the time to be vulnerable. They're perfect. Being shallow is just a part of the job; who wants to relate and aspire to be someone complicated?

So... the original offer was met with skepticism. It's just pity. Worse, it's a trap! Or even some sort of pity trap. Maybe it's revenge for Dream Phone. Maybe Vaughn invited that terrible, nosy robot who wants nothing more than to psychoanalyze him and Mettaton will have to throw himself out of a window to escape their nefarious, intrusive scheme.

But. Vaughn has thus far proven to be nothing but sweet. He's a bit nerdy, but cruel doesn't seem to be a part of his DNA. When he's offering to be nice, there isn't a goal aside from just... being nice.

So. Here Mettaton is.

He's going to deny the childish gasp he makes the instant he steps into the room.]

You have a snail! [And it's PINK!! This is the most important thing in the room, sorry. He's already there, marveling at the tank.]

[ ordinarily, when your doorbell rings and you open the door to find someone dressed in the uniform of a police cadet, it's usually not a particularly reassuring sight. this time, however, Vaughn is in luck, as the cadet (or, you know, "cadet" as he's not... actually one, he just didn't have time to take off the disguise that has served him well for the past few days) in question greets him with a grin. ]

Hey, man! Is Olivia in?

[ because he's got a book to deliver to her!!

... granted, maybe he should have just checked ahead with the magitek, but who thinks ahead?? (the guy who always plans ahead, that's who, let's just count this as a by-product of his general exhaustion as of late.) ]

[ he was expecting chaos when he came to the hospital. it'd be stupid not to—the only places that might be worse are the city streets around the hospital, where riots were still erupting at an increasingly frenetic pace. there's slightly more order inside the hospital, but it's kind of offset by the threat of a larger number of infected people. kind of a lose-lose situation, really, but there are people to visit and people to help. this cure business is a lot of work, and today he has blood to give. it's the best he can do.

it's not a huge surprise when he passes by the cafeteria and hears a girl yelling. people are sick, people are stressed, and the food probably sucks. he almost ignores it, but it sounds... familiar, somehow. so he stops to glance inside, and his suspicions are confirmed: it's Maya, snowball assassin and homework slacker.

she's making a huge scene. it's a little worrisome, so he shuffles quickly to her side, dropping a hand on her shoulder, voice low and seriously concerned. ]

Hey, hey, what's going on? Are you sick? Do you need a hug?

[ at least he knows his place in this crisis. ]

[Well, Maya, aka: homework slacker and snowball assassin, is strictly business today. She's here to aid with the hospital investigation, and what better way to do that than putting her finest skills to use?]

[That is, being loud and annoying]

I am sick! [She yells passionately, slamming her hands on the table and igniting the will of the people] of this food! It's awful and I won't stand for it anymore!

Who's with me????

[She doesn't need hugs, Vaughn, she needs a menu, stat]

[ "a bit nerdy," sure. just a bit. he'll take it. to be fair, Mettaton only met him briefly before his grand transformation into... slightly less of a nerd, so maybe that's why. he used to be a lot worse, but he's a little better at keeping it under wraps now. or maybe he's just confident enough these days that it's harder to notice?

whatever. as long as he's not into anime, right? ]

A snail? [ that's... well, it's an easy mistake to make. maybe they don't have crabs where Mettaton comes from. I mean, it kind of looks like a snail... ] Oh, no, he's a hermit crab, actually! He just... randomly showed up one day, habitat and all. A gift from ALASTAIR, I guess.

[ woulda been cool to get something actually useful, but he did want a pet of his own. he wasn't really planning on a crab, but hey. they've been bonding. ]

[ even the vaguely familiar grin catches him off-guard for a moment—it's hard not to notice the uniform first. he almost blanches, but he catches himself, and smiles back instead, opening the door wider in invitation. ]

Oh, hi! Stiles, right? Long time no see. She's not, unfortunately... I'm assuming she's not in trouble? [ he waves that off before there's even a chance to respond. of course she's not in trouble, what the hell. ] Is it something I can help you with, by any chance?

...Ah. [Mettaton frowns as, on cue, tiny claws emerge from the shell to help the creature inside scuttle about. That's... Well, not disappointing. Of course it isn't disappointing. What reason would he ever have to get excited about snails? They're shy, slow things that always set on fire the harder you cheer for them and they take too much work to keep happy. Why would he care about a snail?

...Hmph.

Gingerly, he taps at the glass. It has a cute, spiral shell, like some sort of Marstonia. Maybe that's where it got its own shell from. Hermit crabs don't make their own shells, do they?]

Does he have a name?

[ he may be exhausted, but he isn't exhausted enough to miss that slight pause before Vaughn's brain catches up with him — Stiles glances down at himself, seeming to realize how he's dressed and winces. ]

Shit, sorry, I totally forgot about this — [ he tries to smooth the front of the uniform, realizes it has absolutely nothing to do with anything and isn't helping and promptly stops. excuse his awkward everything... ]

But... right, yeah. Stiles, that's me. [ G OD ] Uh, good to see you, man. I just dropped by to give her a book, but... I guess I can just leave it with you.

[ she had been five feet away from the other man by the time vaughn intervenes. it's unclear now whether or not the knife had been meant for her, or for anyone at all; with how quickly the man shuffles away, it could well be that he had not meant anyone any harm until he felt himself threatened, and that perhaps, had vaughn stalled a moment longer, this all could have been avoided...

or olivia herself could be the one curled up on the ground, bleeding out of her side.

by the time she turns around, she catches only the last second of the interaction. a flash of the man's back, a glint of his knife, and then vaughn sliding down to the ground as bright crimson starts to pool beside him. her breath catches in her throat, and instnatly she feels a flash of her own pain, a sharp piercing in her chest that she knows is not due to any physical knife, or magical empathy. ]

—Vaughn!!

[ her shout is easily swallowed up by the raging crowd around them, and even though she were only a handful of feet away, the movement of bodies quickly cuts her off from him, till she is left frantically shoving others away just so she can get to his side. her hands are a fluttery, uncertain mess, drifting from his face to his side, till eventually she can only hold him close to her, struggling to keep her own rising panic at bay. it is a lot of blood, but her rational mind informs her that it is not enough, not yet. there is time.

but she has already used so much of her energy today, healing injuries ranging from minor to major with little discern. ]

It's okay, you'll be okay, [ she is quick to tell him, even as she her magic stutters and struggles to heal him as quickly as she would like to.

all around them the chaos continues, messing with her concentration, already unraveling from the fear that persists. ]

[ even in his weakened, confused state, he can make the assumption that he brought this upon himself. the chances that guy would have gone for Olivia were low, probably; it was his own sudden, fiercely protective panic that got him into this situation, and now she was going to have to take care of it, and it would weaken her, too.

what an idiot.

he lets himself slump against her as she holds onto him. so much for being heroic. ]

...Sorry. [ he's murmuring, trying to keep his mind off the pain and the weird sense of defeat that almost feels worse. ] I thought... [ he inhales sharply. her healing is starting to work a little, but it stings. a lot. he holds on to her a bit tighter, though not enough to hurt her. he doesn't have the strength to begin with. ] I dunno what I thought. I'm sorry.

[ he's able to put two and two together soon enough, fortunately. he knows people are infiltrating the hospital for information, and who better to cause a massive, distracting scene than Maya? she's doing a fantastic job.

he's going to try to help. he clears his throat. ]

—Oh, uh. Me! [ he points dramatically towards the kitchens, apologizing profusely in his head to the poor staff who are having to deal with this. ] I mean, what is going on in there, right!? Sick and injured people still have working tastebuds! If anything, they—uh, we deserve even better-tasting food than the healthy! You know, for... having to put up with... being sick and/or injured. [ he coughs. ] Frankly, it's an outrage.

[ he clearly didn't sign up for this. ]

[ she barely hears him, really, given how the shouting and rioting seems to grow louder still all around them. she holds him close, pressing one hand to his wound, the other to the side of his head in what might have been a comforting gesture, had the rest of her body not begun to tremor in her mounting panic and frustration. ]

You were wonderful, [ she takes care to reassure him, managing a smile even as more magic and energy leaks out of her. ] Thank you for being so brave.

[ it didn't matter much what might have happened — just what did. regardless if she were in any real danger or not, he still acted to try and prevent it. it still means quite a lot.

but the more the crowds grow restless, the more she can feel what little concentration she had left start to slip from her. she knows she cannot continue to heal him with all these distractions, not an injury of this extent. she tries her meditations, her calming breaths at first — in and out, out and in — but seconds tick by and they do nothing.

finally, when she feels herself quite ready to burst — she does. ]

Will you stop?!

[ like a ripple of non-energy, the crowd around them suddenly quiets. expressions slacken, a thick blanket of calm draping over most within the immediate area. an eerier silence around them follows, and though shouts and rioting still occur past that, there is a strange sensation of being in a bubble, at least for the moment.

olivia lets out a ragged breath, the pulse of empathy taking a large chunk out of her energy, but at last, finally, she is able to think. clinging to this renewed focus, she works on healing the rest of his injury without any further word. ]

[ it's okay to get excited about weird shit, man. even if it's snails. ]

Yeah! It's DJ. [ pause. how can he explain this to a robot without sounding like a dick? ] Uh, my best friend has this little drone named Dumpy, and he's kind of broken, and... well, the first thing I noticed about this guy is that he's a little off, like, in the head, so I named him Dumpy Jr. [ he rubs the back of his head, embarrassed. speaking of dumb... ] Subject to change, I guess. Maybe he'll start acting normal one of these days.

No, no, don't worry about it! I mean, I know you, so there was really no reason for me to assume one of us was in trouble. If it was a cop I didn't recognize, then we might have had a problem. [ he motions for Stiles to come in if he's so inclined. ] Feel free to stop in and take a break, by the way. You seem a little stressed out.

...Vaughn.

[That's so rude! He's so disappointed. It's just a little sn- crab.

With another tap on the glass, a small copy of Mettaton's box form appears in the habitat. It floats itself over to sweet little DJ before petting its shell with all the reverence a magical summon can muster.]

He's trying his best.

[Anyway.]

Why do you say he's off?

[ he's vaguely drifting out of it when he hears her suddenly shout—it's far and away the loudest he's ever heard her voice, and he gasps more in surprise than in pain, staring at the crowd, hearing... nothing, almost. he's seen her use these powers before, of course, but not on this scale. he wouldn't even have thought it possible until now. and yet the surrounding riot has turned into a simple crowd, milling around blank-faced and silent.

holy shit.

he looks back to her with as much awe as he can muster in this state, but soon enough it turns to concern. muddled though his brain may be, he knows how much that must have taken out of her, and then she's using even more of what remains of her energy on him. he likes it even less than he likes the pain. ]

...Olivia, wait. [ his voice is quiet, as if he's afraid drawing anyone else's attention might rile everyone right back up. he reaches over to rest a hand over hers at his side. ] Take a breather if you need to. I'll be fine. [ he offers her a weak but encouraging smile. ] It's better already.

( woodhurst is not an easy city to exist in these days. worse still, if one happens to work for the police department. between the town going mad and the riots still persisting, it's rather difficult to scrape by unscathed. Graham has done fairly well on that account, though — though the man he'd escorted to the emergency room couldn't quite boast the same. the fellow had dove through window in attempts to find something to eat, hinting at infection, though there wasn't much Graham could do but bring him to the hospital.

though they seemed to have more than enough people crowded into the emergency room. he delivers the man to the nurses and sees him attended to, and though he could leave he lingers. he hopes to spot Olivia somewhere, he knows that she works in the hospital somewhere. he's fussing with his watch, perhaps to send a message, when he notices someone staring. ah, that is likely because using a watch to communicate in the 90s is rather bizarre.

not recognizing the man, Graham flubs, ) Just setting it back. It's always slow. ( it's a decent lie, actually; being heartless makes it a little too easy. he couldn't guess he's talking to a fellow member of Audentes just by looking at him. )

[ the touch to her hand has her concentration stuttering, but she is quick to regain her footing before too long. she dares not allow herself a break, worried that her body would take too much comfort in the breather and slack.

she uses this as an excuse not to respond, at least not right away. because it's true — the wound is getting better, but it is not getting better fast enough. he had been hit directly in the kidney, and a gut shot like that — at such an angle, with such a blade length — is never something one should let sit for too long, otherwise more complications will arise. the entrance had been smooth, but its retraction hadn't, and that on top of the possibility for infection has her working in appropriate haste.

and still, she does not want to worry him. does not want him to feel any worse than he already does for something she cannot even begin to blame him for. and so she tries to muster up a smile. for him. ]

It's alright, [ she tells him around a quick, short breath. ] It's almost done anyway...

[ getting stuck in traffic sure sucks, doesn't it? maybe foot traffic isn't as bad as car traffic, but when the people involved are rioting, it makes it a little more complicated. getting to the hospital involves some delicate weaving, dodging, and side-stepping through raucous crowds—to be honest, he's gotten pretty adept at it at this point, but it's still annoying and sad. mostly sad.

he checks in on what's happening at the hospital (and the people he cares about who work there) most days. his job at the electronics store was relatively brief—turns out people don't give a shit about printers during the zombie apocalypse—so he spends most of his time trying to help people out who have more skills than he does. it's rough not having any cool powers.

...especially on a day like today. the riots are bad—worse than usual, anyway. he can only imagine it'll continue to escalate, and so it's in his best interest to get the hell out of here as soon as possible. fortunately, that's when he spots someone he's relatively sure he's seen in Audentes uniform before. the guy is much taller and much more intimidating-looking than him; maybe it's in the interest of self-preservation that he sidles with moderate difficulty over to him, looking a little panicked. ]

Hey, uh... do you mind if I stick next to you until we get out of this? [ it feels so stupid to ask such a thing of a complete stranger, but he's alone, and he'd kind of like to not be alone right now. ] Where are you headed?

Are you sure? I could've arrested her for speeding and be here asking you to post bail.

[ his light tone betrays the fact that no, he'd never arrest for anything, even if it was warranted... he sighs, though, runs a hand through his hair. ]

Yeah, it's going around lately. [ being stressed out, that is. ] ... you mind? I don't wanna impose.

[For his part, Giovanni cuts through the riots like a finely-honed blade, the roiling overspill of violence only acting to fill him with a dark kind of music, bones buzzing from the hard ugly energy of it all. It's a beautiful thing, all of this-- it would be so easy to give himself over to it, to hurl himself into the deep red centre, guns blazing and laughter ringing out and the pleasure he'd feel, it would be transcendent.

But he doesn't do that. Instead he keeps it all inside of himself, tightly reined, fiercely controlled, for all that outwardly he maintains the appearance of perfect calm, even when he's breaking up the worst of the fights or disabling the madding infected. He's come late to it, perhaps, but there are people here who have expectations of him, and he's trying his level best to adhere to those expectations. Maybe he doesn't fully comprehend their reasoning, still thinks his own cold brand of mercy would be better suited here, but he can follow the path of their thoughts at least, can agree to hold himself back until they know for sure whether these people can still be helped. Whether there'll be a cure.

And in truth, small and quiet though the thought is, he wants the cure to come to fruition as much as the rest of them. He has his own reasons for this.

This is how Vaughn finds him. Cool and calm and slipperysmooth in the middle of all this violence, and when he sidles up beside warhound and poses his meek questions, Giovanni turns with an expression of mild surprise, looks down at him with a canine cant of the head. It takes him a moment, but he thinks he's seen this guy around, believes him to be one of theirs. As such, he flashes him a razor-edged smile. Full of too-sharp teeth.]

What's the matter, too much excitement for you?

[He shakes his head as though brushing the comment away.]

But you can stick with me, if you like. Just don't expect me to hold your hand. Hahah. I'm not going anywhere in particular-- just out for a stroll. There's somewhere you need to be?

[Because yes he's chosen to place himself in the path of the riots, quite deliberately.]

I know, I know... [ he shakes his head, disappointed in himself. what an asshole. ] He just kinda... stares at the glass a lot. I dunno if it's his reflection or what. Olivia said maybe he's lonely, but it's not like I can just get another—

[ uh, wait. why is there a tiny Mettaton in the tank? he looks back and forth between the tiny one and the real one in awe. what the hell is happening. ]

—Whoa. I didn't know you could do that.

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mettaton

lilith

olivia

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wildcard for the wildcard

maya

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giovanni (finally, jesus)

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<3!!

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