tampered | here comes trouble

[ It's a fairly routine task -- like a bang-and-burn job or a dangle operation back home. Simpler, in fact. Chekov is a smart boy. But he's not a Contractor or any of the cunning game-players Hei and Mao are accustomed to dealing with. Plus he gives 'Li' the benefit of the doubt -- that can only relax guards and widen windows of opportunity. ]

[ Still. No reason to get complacent. ]

[ Allowing a civilian into home territory isn't favored by protocol. If the situation goes pear-shaped, a careless operative has only his shortsightedness to blame. But that doesn't faze Hei. He's more concerned with the results rather than the means they get them by. Having Mao's server at full functionality is ancillary, not vital. But the risk of ending up with a cat instead of an extra pair of eyes in the City? That's of no benefit to him whatsoever. This whole process rests delicately on Chekov's abilities, and Mao's step-by-step instructions. ]

[ 'Li' is just the shiny lure. And, afterward, the clean-up tool. ]

[ Hearing footsteps outside the door, he lets his sweet-faced facade slip into place. Glances, briefly, at Mao, a message encoded in that look. Showtime. ]

[Chekov isn't wild about visiting Li in his own home for a technological emergency. It isn't that he doesn't like Li--he does--but he can't shake the feeling that all's not well where he is involved. That's no reason not to answer his call, however.

With some of his more delicate tools stowed safely in a knapsack, Chekov knocks on the door that should belong to Li's apartment.]

[ Years of training are hard to shake. As soon as Chekov nears the door, Hei keeps half an ear on the footsteps. One pair. Good. He recognizes the light tread well enough, the way he does with every individual who lives on his floor. The hypervigilance would be unthinkable to a normal person. In Hei's trade, however, it's a built-in survival mechanism. ]

[ He opens the door at the third knock. No need to seem too eager -- or as if he's been listening to his guest approach. In a way, the tradecraft for luring a mark isn't much different from the push-me, pull-yous and mindgames between normal people. Except in the Syndicate, it's played by hard-headed pros for much higher stakes. ]

On! Pavel -- hello. [ His face, all beaming welcome, is impossible to read. He throws the door open, gesturing for him to step in. ] Glad you could make it. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your stopping by.

Li, hello. [He steps into the apartment without a second thought, not looking for anything suspicious. The boy is capable of being almost frighteningly observant, but why bother when visiting a friend?

The problem with mere humans, of course, is their willingness to let their guards down. Trust comes easily enough to someone who has grown up in a relatively safe world with family, friends, and acquaintances who mean nothing but the best. Even at his most alert, Chekov wouldn't be much of a match for Hei.]

I'm happy to. What is the problem?

[ Why bother with suspicions indeed? Chekov steps in, and 'Li' quietly latches the door shut behind him -- a casual slight-of-hand. His apartment is spartan and meticulously neat in a cold, transitory way. Basics of furniture in the livingroom. Gleaming kitchen counter. Nothing to take on an impress of his personality -- which is the point. Here, as everywhere, Hei is a ghost. ]

[ With the perfect air of Solicitous Host, he trails after Chekov. Eyes quick, checking him over -- just a knapsack, no telltale bulge of Network Device on his clothes (But of course he'll relieve him of the bag and subject him to a pat-down later). The apartment's walls are thick but not too thick. He hopes this goes down without too much fuss on Pavel's part. ]

[ Hei would rather not resort to his more extreme methods for silencing a noisy mark. ]

It's, um, sort of complicated. [ He scrubs an awkward hand through his hair. ] It might be better if I showed you. [ Politely, he gestures. ] But why don't you take a seat? I'll get you something to drink. [ The last sentence is a loaded code. Get ready, Mao. ]

[Bitch, Mao was born ready.

He leaps off the window ledge where he had been curled up, pretending to doze, and stretches before ambling over to sniff Chekov. If the kid is allergic or phobic, best to know now.]

[Spartan is acceptable. It must make cleaning easy, at least.

Chekov didn't think to bring his network device... or a weapon, or anything other than a small toolkit and an overly-elaborate map charting the course to Li's apartment. It probably wouldn't be of use to anyone but it's maker with its three-axis format.]

How complicated? [He sits, wondering if he should have brought something alcoholic with him. If it's going to be that complicated...] Li, I didn't know you kept a cat. [Chekov holds a hand out towards Mao. Nope, not phobic or allergic.]

Edited 2012-12-09 05:20 (UTC)

[ While Chekov settles in, Hei focuses on the ambient points -- the strategic placement of the couch, its distance from the door, the position of Pavel's hands, the lamp beside him, the cord of which runs to the wall adjacent to Hei (the amount of voltage it uses and how one touch can amplify it, in case things go awry and he needs to stun Chekov with a shatterburst -- Hopefully not. He dislikes messes.) ]

[ Good thing you didn't bring alcohol, Pavel. Hei prefers this task carried out sober. Speaking of ... ]

[ Time to get started. The faster this goes, the better for Pavel. ]

That's not my cat. [ His easygoing air has inverted like a sea anemone, turning to cold purpose in an eyeblink. He levels a flat gaze on Chekov. ] I'd like you to open your knapsack and empty the contents on the coffee-table. Both hands in my line of sight. [ By habit, no professional checks unknown knapsacks themselves. Not if they're wired or rigged. He sincerely doubts Chekov is the type. But there's always one wild element in Hei's line of work, and you're far better off prepared. ]

[The change is abrupt and startling. Chekov freezes and searches Li, hoping--futilely, he already knows--for some sign that this is a prank and not blatant betrayal. But no, there's no joking there. This isn't the same person who made a cake shaped like breakfast foods or visited Lucy's or goes stargazing with Chekov.

Except it is. That, perhaps, is the worst part.

Chekov bites back the comments he would like to make and the questions he wants to ask and does as Li--or whoever he is--says, moving swiftly and keeping his hands perfectly visible. At least Starfleet trains for situations like this. Do as your captor says if lives are not in jeopardy. The only things in the knapsack are the map, the toolkit, and a few reds and oranges. Pavel looks at Li once the bag is empty, trying (unsuccessfully) to match his coldness.]

[ No questions. Good. Chekov's evidently received instructions on handling these encounters, much like Hei -- Keep your cool, hold your tongue. At least he's not an incompetent. It makes for less altercations and time-wastage. From the adjacent bureau drawer, Hei withdraws a pair of fresh latex gloves, snapping them on. Sifts through the knapsack's contents, one by one -- examining the map, snapping the toolkit open. It's all very measured and precise; he's not a gun-toting maniac who wrecks everything in sight, thank you. ]

[ He'd prefer Chekov's equipment perfectly preserved. No lasting prints -- physical or mental -- of this operation. ]

Do as you're told and you'll be allowed to leave. [ Sans memories, of course. He steps in, going through a practiced pat-down on Chekov' clothes -- sitting or standing, it makes no difference to Hei. He knows where to look and isn't hesitant about it. Satisfied, he steps back, fixing his guest with an impersonal stare. ] There's a server I'd like you to set up. To the best of your ability. [ Which, from his observations, is considerable. ]

[ The equipment rests in a small white box on the bureau. Hei plunks it neatly on the coffee-table. Glances, offhanded, at Mao, ] Let him know what to do.

[He watches 'Li,' attempting to remain impassive. Chekov takes some small comfort in the fact that the-person-he-had-thought-was-Li is professional about this; something about the methodical way he examines everything is vaguely comforting. Impersonal. All of the precautions are unnecessary, of course, and Chekov finds it sad that not-Li would think him capable of deception. (Or maybe it isn't as foolish as it seems; if it was in his nature, Chekov has little doubt that he would be a formidable deceiver.)

As 'Li' frisks him--again, impersonal and professional--Chekov forces confidence into his voice and asks:] And if I fail to do as I am told? [Why not weigh his current options? He's too clever to risk an escape, but some obstinance might be called for.

And now he is being told to take instructions from a cat. Chekov glances at Mao, but puts his question to Li.] What is the purpose of this?

[ Hei's face is hard to read, but the question makes his head tilt, like hearing a parrot sing pop lyrics. Amusing, but ultimately useless. He doesn't doubt that Chekov, with the right molding and incentive, would be proficient to the extreme at manipulation. An impressive Contractor. But then Hei would have to treat him as one -- an equation that can only result in Chekov's death. His name holds clout back home -- for good (terrible) reasons. He's a professional; neither blinded by his own skills, nor stingy about applying them. He's sliced apart better men than Chekov for less valuable objectives; all part of the job. ]

[ But the rules are different here. Usually such questions from a hostage would've led to cracked knuckles and broken teeth. All Chekov gets is a harsh backhand to the face. Fast, sharp, stinging -- the kind that jars, but leaves no marks. ]

That isn't an option. [ The threat is matter-of-fact. ] And you know better than to fish for information. [ Surely his superiors have taught him; it's smarter to keep quiet. In a situation like this, no one's business is your business. Not if you want to live. In the face of Hei's deathly cold expression, Pavel may want to rethink his curiosity. ]

Edited 2012-12-09 09:18 (UTC)

[There are a number of things that one does not expect from someone who was, until very recently, a friend, and a backhand is one of those. Pavel is thoroughly rattled. He shouldn't be--nothing 'Li' does should surprise him at this point--but this is the behavior of an enemy, and one more ruthless than Romulans at that. Nero, for all of his revenge-driven insanity, was at least good enough to offer explanations.

But Chekov does know better than to converse with captors. The fact that this is 'Li' apparently doesn't change anything; one look at his cold, flat expression is enough to diminish any hopes.

Without another word, Chekov looks from the items in the white box (he won't touch anything without being told to) to the cat.]

[Mao's been quiet this whole while, watching Li with interest. His behavior seems unnecessarily violent - not the BK201 at his worst, certainly, but Mao had been under the impression that Chekov was a goody two shoes who would help simply to be helpful. No need to break Hei's cover; the Reaper would wipe the boy's memories to protect Mao.

Not that he cares what methods the other contractor chooses to employ. The boy will help him either way. He's simply curious: is there something about Chekov that makes this necessary, or did yesterday put Hei in a field temper?

He finally speaks up.]

It is a simple task. I've already got the materials you'll need. I just need your hands.

[Chekov has no idea what he has done to bring this upon himself. If Li wanted him to construct a server for a talking cat, he could have asked. But, of course, Li isn't Li. All bets are off.

He turns his attention to the cat and holds his hands up. They're all his, just tell him what to do and don't expect him to say anything.]

[There is something on Mao's face that could be considered a smile. Smart boy.]

The computer is in the back corner. I need you to install the server on it. You'll find the program on the flashdrive in the box.

[You may find the program a little challenging, Chekov, as it's not a standard server program. It's one of Mao's own design. It'd been playing around in his head for awhile, and used the opportunity as Nic Cage to write it up.

Of course, you are a 24th century genius. Maybe it'll be easy peasy.]

[He does what the cat tells him to without so much as an affirmation. Li doesn't want him to talk? Chekov isn't going to talk.

The computer is dated, to say the least, but he has the flashdrive in and the program installing in short order. No, it's not a standard server program. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out, however. After a few very busy minutes of typing, Chekov turns from the computer. Care to check his work? Li, would you like to get another hit in?]

[Mao paws over and takes a look. Nice work, kid, but that's the easy part.]

Now you need to configure the system to communicate with this device.

[He scratches his ear, dislodging the earclip that is how he communicated with the Syndicate's network.

Insert any technological explanation necessary here.]

[Technological explanations from a cat, held hostage by someone with at least two personalities, configuring some kind of personal communication device... wonderful. Chekov follows the cat's instructions, working quickly and efficiently.

He does scope his surrounds more carefully, however--not overtly looking around, but observing what can be seen from his vantage point. The cat doesn't seem hostile, but Chekov doubts 'Li' is going to just let him go after this is done. A plan of escape would be nice.]

[Your attempts at observation are adorable, Chekov. But your work is excellent.]

Time for testing.

[Put the clip back on him, kid.]

[That obvious, huh? Please don't tell 'Li,' talking cat.

Chekov puts the clip back on the cat's ear. Right now, he likes the cat a whole lot more than he likes 'Li.']

[Kid, "Li" already knows. What kind of Contractor do you think BK-201 is?

Wait. You have no idea. Poor schmuck.

Mao's eyes go blank as he tests the connection. Excellent. He begins the process of uploading a backup of his consciousness. And, while he's at it, tries to access the City's Network through the device as well.]

[He thinks of running now. His chances aren't going to get better--or worse, for that matter. The door isn't exactly in a readily-accessible location and he has no idea what 'Li' is capable of...

But Chekov does take a certain amount of pride in his work and wants to ensure that everything is working for the cat.

Schmuck indeed.]

[And Mao returns to earth.]

It works.

[Oh, good.

And with that, Chekov leaps up and darts towards the door.]

[ Hei's been quiet through the whole process, part sentry, part immobile threat, his presence transmogrified into a pair of cold eyes. He's only had to glance once at Chekov to piece together that he's considering escape routes. He sees his only salvation in the shape of a mad dash. Tch. There's a word for that. One that sounds exactly like what it means. Egregious. ]

[ The green ones never know how to handle these situations. ]

[ Hands in pockets, he's positioned himself at a spot between Chekov and the door, at eye level, close enough for easy observation, and so he can intercept their guest immediately if he decides to run. It's a calculated placement that works to its full advantage when Chekov does as expected. Here we go. Hei moves without warning, at his spot one second, blocking Chekov the next. In an swift one-two-three, like a dance, he's caught the boy in a headlock, and hauled him back to his seat. It's all executed casually and without even a thud of shoes or scuffle. ]

You shouldn't have done that.

[ It's flatly chastising. Hei's eyes narrow into something that ratchets up the permafrost quotient from zero to sixty. This situation would've ended very differently if Chekov and he weren't Civilian and Contractor, but two operatives pitted against each other by their handlers. Luckily, the job is done, and the City is the City. There needn't be bloodshed. He glances at Mao, ] Is that everything? [ If so, he'll move to the final step. ]

[Chekov attempts to evade Hei but, fast as he might be, the Contractor is faster. That doesn't stop him from struggling once he's caught, and a struggling Chekov is all flailing limbs.

But not for very long. It's obvious that Hei isn't going to let him slip away. What's not so obvious is what he intends to do with Chekov. The boy becomes very complacent. Perhaps the cat will distract 'Li' and an opening will appear. Perhaps a well-aimed kick could be useful...]

[Stupid child. Mao licks his paw as Hei takes care of him.]

I wouldn't try that again. He's not patient.

[He glances at Hei. He's done with the boy -- time for Hei to do what he does best.

...second best. Killing wouldn't do much good.]

[ Surely, it's occurred to Pavel that if Hei hasn't killed him already, there may be a chance that he's not going to at all? But if the boy tries anything stupider, the likelihood of him staying intact and unbruised will quickly slide to a null point. Hei had hit Chekov earlier to keep him quiet -- to sharpen him up. Adrenaline and a requisite dose of pain are good at keeping hostages compliant and on their feet; sometimes the intimation of damage is more effective than outright torture. ]

[ But a repeat of his getaway will bring Chekov nothing pleasant. ]

[ He doesn't react to Chekov's flailing, or remark at his stillness -- if there's one thing the boy has in common with Korra, it's that their thoughts flash like neon signs across their faces. Live broadcast. Satisfied with Mao's answer, Hei strips off one of his latex gloves. Rests his palm on top of Chekov's head. In other circumstances, it might be a brotherly gesture. Not here. ]

You've been useful.

[ It's an oblique Thanks. A moment later, static crackling into sparks, he zaps the boy's memory and consciousness dry. This marks it as the third time. And, Hei's privately resolved -- the last. Chekov's mind is a valuable asset. It'd be a shame to subject him to long-term debilitation or a risk of DEI. ]

[Yes, that thought has occurred to Pavel. He has also deduced that Hei is going to do something that he isn't going the like; no one with a sinister hidden identity is going to want word of that getting around. He is, however, willing to take the cat's word and not try to escape again.

The glove is worrying, however.

Chekov doesn't get so much as a chance to respond to 'Li' before he is, once again, zapped unconscious.]

[Mao comes over and sniffs the unconscious boy.]

What now?

[ There's a perfunctory check of Pavel's pulse. Satisfied, Hei collects the boy's tools and returns everything to his knapsack. He slings it over one shoulder, and hauls Chekov up easily. Contrary to what outsiders might assume, the clean-up, in any assignment, is the most interesting part -- and requires the greatest amount of artistry. A few minutes or hours snatched out of a person's memory never pass without alarm. Hei's job is to minimize it into something innocuous-seeming. The result of a bender. A spontaneous nap. A collapse after stepping on a trolley track. ]

Check the fire-escape.

[ If the coast is clear, Hei will carry Chekov out the window, and back home. Quick as quick, and easy as pie. ]

[Mao jumps up onto the windowsill.]

All clear.

[ Chekov in tow, Hei slinks onto the fire-escape. Despite their combined weight, the metal barely vibrates under his feet -- his balance is secure, perfected with practice. He extends a free arm. The spring-loaded wire under his sleeve whips out like a shot, connecting to the rooftop beyond. ]

[ And off they go. ]

[Mao curls up on the couch and closes his eyes. Time to check out this network thing properly while the computer backs up his mind.]

here comes trouble

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