Yelena Belova (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
musicdied) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
clandestinement2025-12-24 03:58 pm
musicdied) wrote in clandestinement2025-12-24 03:58 pm
Hybridization - for makingitworse
There's something off about the facility set in what Yelena suspects was at one point an old mine - there are the bones of what might once have been a town along the overgrown track she'd used as an approach. As important as it's apparently supposed to be, it's sparsely guarded, and that's not just her training as a Widow colouring her judgment. Sparsely guarded, but not entirely unguarded - by the time she gets through the secure door to the facility's server room, she has maybe forty-five minutes before someone realizes the guard she'd had to incapacitate has missed check-in.
It takes her ten of those minutes to interface and get the download set up, and a bit of effort splices her into the security feeds so she can keep an eye on any unusual movement on her tablet. The feeds are conveniently labelled by floor and sector and - there are too many. A subfloor that hadn't been on the schematics lurks on one of the cameras.
"If I was hiding something really nasty..." she murmurs to herself. Still, she wrestles with her options for a long moment, weighing the possibility of valuable information against the sense behind sticking to the plan.
She won't get another shot at this place. Possibility wins out.
She slips her exploits in, system failure to kill cameras and communications and mimic the atmospheric interference she'd heard the guards bitching about, and sets them on a timer, then slips down the hall to the elevator shaft. The elevator's already locked up on the top level; it's a long climb down a narrow ladder that reeks of rust, but she's handled far worse.
She hadn't been able to see much with the angle of the one camera on this level, and what she does find is disappointing. Crates, all numerically labelled, nothing clearly showing what may or may not be important. She winds her way carefully through the metal maze until she finds - another box. This one, though, is white and sleek, with controls attached. There's a screen that appears to be intended to monitor something, but it's blank, and poking carefully at the buttons doesn't bring up a display. Eventually, though, she finds the sequence to unlock the box, and there's a dull thunk, followed by a hiss as it depressurizes. She steps back carefully as the low hum of hydraulics lifts the lid up and back, a small amber warning light blinking beneath the blank screen display.
It takes her ten of those minutes to interface and get the download set up, and a bit of effort splices her into the security feeds so she can keep an eye on any unusual movement on her tablet. The feeds are conveniently labelled by floor and sector and - there are too many. A subfloor that hadn't been on the schematics lurks on one of the cameras.
"If I was hiding something really nasty..." she murmurs to herself. Still, she wrestles with her options for a long moment, weighing the possibility of valuable information against the sense behind sticking to the plan.
She won't get another shot at this place. Possibility wins out.
She slips her exploits in, system failure to kill cameras and communications and mimic the atmospheric interference she'd heard the guards bitching about, and sets them on a timer, then slips down the hall to the elevator shaft. The elevator's already locked up on the top level; it's a long climb down a narrow ladder that reeks of rust, but she's handled far worse.
She hadn't been able to see much with the angle of the one camera on this level, and what she does find is disappointing. Crates, all numerically labelled, nothing clearly showing what may or may not be important. She winds her way carefully through the metal maze until she finds - another box. This one, though, is white and sleek, with controls attached. There's a screen that appears to be intended to monitor something, but it's blank, and poking carefully at the buttons doesn't bring up a display. Eventually, though, she finds the sequence to unlock the box, and there's a dull thunk, followed by a hiss as it depressurizes. She steps back carefully as the low hum of hydraulics lifts the lid up and back, a small amber warning light blinking beneath the blank screen display.
no subject
"Why were you sleeping in a box?"
no subject
"The last place I remember was a lab in southeast Asia. I don't know how I... got here." He prods a little at the fitted foam he'd been lying in. That is very weird. And creepy.
no subject
"Shit," she says. She studies him for a few seconds, then gives herself a curt nod and holds out one gloved hand in his direction, palm up, offering him a hand up in case he's shaky from, well. Being in some sort of stasis for at least long enough to get from somewhere in Asia to the bowels of an O.X.E. facility in the middle of nowhere, West Virginia. "Okay, out of the box. I am thinking we both have a lot of questions, but I do not want to find out the hard way that waking you up tripped an alarm."
no subject
He also doesn't want to find out of opening the box and waking him up triggered an alarm. He's not sure if going with her is the best idea, but staying here is definitely worse, and while he could try to strike out on his own, he could always do that later, too.
"What are you doing here?" he asks.
no subject
"Corporate espionage," she says, with a sort of easy flippancy that invites him to believe or disbelieve at his own discretion. "And now a bit of light jailbreaking, apparently. Do you - I guess you would not know if there is anyone else unconscious down here, but do you know if there was anyone else at the lab, besides whoever put you in there?"
no subject
There don't seem to be any other boxes the same size and shape as his, though, that he can see. And he can-- he can hear himself, hear the woman, heartbeats and breath and shifts in clothing. He can tell there's a person in front of him even when he's not looking at her. There doesn't seem to be anything else like that nearby.
"I-- think we're alone?" he hazards, just going with it for now, even if he's getting more and more confused.
no subject
"--Why do you think we are alone?" She doesn't think it's a liar's slip, but it's certainly possible that he remembers more than he thinks he does, even if it's hazy from whatever he'd been drugged with to get him in that box.
no subject
He looks around again. "And, well, there aren't any other people-sized boxes with the same paneling on them as mine."
no subject
That could be very, very bad.
no subject
But there's something uncertain in his voice, now. No, he's not a Guide, but-- would that explain why he can tell she's standing there even if he's not looking at her?
"You can't become a Guide in your thirties, can you?" he asks, with a self-conscious little chuff that's not quite a chuckle, not unless it's a very nervous one.
no subject
There've been theories about latent talents, people who have the genetic traits, but through some quirk of biochemistry don't have the power, as a way to explain why Sentinels and Guides manifest so unpredictably in the population. But it's never been proven, and this is hardly the time and place to mull over fringe theories.
"Okay, Mr. Ordinary. I am going to take a quick look to make sure there is not anything hidden by these crates, so we do not leave anyone behind. Do you think you can get the lid back on that box? If waking you up did not set off an alarm, I think we want to let these people think you are still here for as long as possible."
no subject
He turns back to the box he'd come out of and starts doing just that: tugging the lid back down and finding a way to latch it, while hyperventilating a little very quietly.