[IC] How Not to be a Douchebag 101

[Metronome]

December 12th, 2018
1400 hours
Horizon Center of Meta-human Sciences

"Data compiled on our latest subject, case 243, unknown extraterrestrial," A suited man sat at the head of a small table, seated around six other professionals. Some were doctors, scientists, special agents, and even superheroes. They had all been given assignments in this latest mind control case, most of which had been easy enough to work through. The meta-humans involved were cooperative for the most part, and had their own best interest in mind. But the case of 243 refused to be solved. For one, this creature wasn't a meta-human. It wasn't human. And while certainly not evil, the subject was hostile out of fear alone. The agents could sympathize with it, but what could they do?

"The alien's health has been declining over the last few days. It eats less, drinks less, is lethargic, and has been showing irregular body temperature patterns. Earlier this month, we theorized that the subject's sudden and drastic fluctuations in body temperature was a defense mechanism. It's body seems to rest at around 0 degrees Fahrenheit, and has been recorded as high as 32. However, when an agent enters the holding cell, that temperature suddenly drops. The lowest recording was -109. We don't know yet if this reaction is self controlled or involuntary. However, over the past few days, the subject's temperature has hung around 29 to 30, which is unusual as far as we can tell. It's been showing signs of exhaustion and stress, and, yesterday, this was recorded."

The suited man leaned forward and hit 'play' on the media player on his laptop. It played the sound of a pitiful whimpering; the unmistakable sounds of crying. It was chillingly human, for something that looked anything but. When it was clear that the patrons around the table were unsettled, the man hit pause.

"We believe it won't last but a week, maybe two at this rate," One of the doctors said, breaking the thick silence. "Something has to be done to get through to the alien, or we're going to lose it."

"Well what can we do?" Asked a woman from across the table. "He...it doesn't want anything to do with us."

"Maybe we can train it on a reward system," One man said, "Take away it's comfort items when it does bad, and give them back when it does good."

"It's not a dog, Steve. Jesus Christ, we're talking about a sentient being here."

"What if we just let it go? I mean, we've established that it's not malicious. It just wants to be left alone."

"Yeah, until it calls it's buddies and they invade our ass. This could start a intergalactic war if we aren't careful."

The man leading the meeting turned to two women who sat closer to him. "Agent Day, Rhylaen, you two have been working the closest with this case. How do you think we should proceed?"

[shylarah]

Rhylaen loathed mind control. It was a cruel thing, to turn a person against themselves, and she had helped break through a couple of the cases with her peculiar (to Earth) brand of magic. The reports her handlers filed called it her superpower, but she knew the truth. It was as natural for her kind as breathing. They dismissed her terms as inaccurate, talking of pressure and kinetic force. She just called it magic.

At least most of the "villains" had been sorted out. This one, no one seemed to understand. Rhylaen felt bad for him. She knew what it meant to be a stranger in an unknown place. How much harder would it have been for her to adjust, without her abilities? If she could communicate with no one? If she had been labelled a villain?

She was perched most irregularly on the back of her chair, instead of in the seat. She'd gotten a few looks for it, but disregarded them. Not all of the words the man of science used were ones she knew, but she understood enough to get the general idea. The computer made a crying noise, and for a moment Rhylaen thought to take it from him, before reminding herself that it was only a machine. The one that had made the noise was the "subject" -- such an impersonal word, she thought. It was no wonder they could not get through, when they kept the unknown one at such a distance.

When asked what she thought, Rhylaen gave the same answer she'd tried to present more than once before. "I go," she said, her lilting voice carrying clearly. "Scared of humans, maybe, after what is done. I be not human -- I be also different. And...maybe I understand voice of head, if cannot understand voice of mouth." They'd denied her request every time she'd made it, to her increasing frustration. Maybe this time, with the unknown person's failing health, they would agree.

[Hero]

The conversation presented did not fall on deaf ears, but she had to admit that it was actually nice to see that cluelessness could be a shared phenomenon. It was a mean thought, but what did they expect? You could lock up a human for days and get a similar response to what the alien gave them: apprehension, despair, stress. But what did she know? The people she dealt with understood her when she spoke, they were able to communicate and eventually come to a conclusion. She hadn't the slightest idea how to communicate with something that didn't understand her.

Her head leaned on her knuckles, a distant and unconcerned look on Day's face as she simply listened. Her former partner would likely have gone barging into the holding cell and yelled at the poor thing until it got smart enough to punch him or until it died of shock. Then she would have to go in and cleanup. If only it was as simple as apologizing on someone's behalf and either bribing or offering to make amends. Maybe she wasn't as cut out for this job as she thought if that was where her mind was.

Coming back to attention at the sound of her name, she tuned back just in time to hear Rhylaen make yet another plea to go see the alien. A kind effort, but one that often went ignored for some reason. Part of her thought it was because people were paranoid that she could somehow break it free. The little alien was relatively harmless--at the moment, anyway--and she presented a valid point.

"Telepathic communication could be more effective, considering any verbal communication falls on deaf ears--figuratively speaking," She decided to vouch for Rhylaen. "We're running out of other options and time. Telepathy provides an opportunity we can't afford to ignore, and it may be more open to being approached by another extra terrestrial."

[Metronome]

"It's worth a shot," Agreed one of the doctors at the table. "We've tried just about everything else."

The suited man at the head of the table seemed apprehensive about the idea. But, alas, they couldn't afford to brush it aside anymore. A person's life was on the line, and whatever scientific discoveries they held onto would likely die with them. He nodded.

"Fine. Rhylaen, you can suit up and go in. Everyone else, standby." He stood, collecting his notes, and walked across the room to open a door into what looked like a control room. There, a large, glass window looked into a medium sized, very brightly lit holding cell. Lights shined from every direction, eliminating almost all shadows and making those that did exist faint and weak. The only furniture in the room was a mattress on the floor with a lump of blankets. The alien couldn't be seen right away, but it was fair to assume that he was hidden under all of those quilts. And no wonder, those lights would make anyone uncomfortable.

The man rifled through some of the thermo suits they kept by the cell. With the alien's body temperature being so low, it wasn't out of the realm of imagination that he could use his own skin as a weapon against them. He found the smallest one, which would still swallow the small woman whole, and handed it to her.

"We'll be out here in case anything goes wrong." The others from the meeting room filed in to watch.

[shylarah]

"No!" Rhylaen made a slashing motion with one hand in a clear gesture of denial. "He attack, I can defend. But if want trust, need show trust." Wearing a suit would make her look like all the others that had tried entering the room, and besides they were bulky and uncomfortable. There was no point in her being different if she looked the same. She handled cold better than her human friends, at least in terms of atmospheric temperature. The pair of gloves she'd brought with would be plenty of protection, or so she figured. Of course, there was also the matter of placating the men of science. If she just went in without coming to an agreement, she'd never be allowed back in. "Give to Agent-Day, she come with," she suggested, as a way of appeasing them. "And I wear gloves, jacket." She held up the items she'd brought with, her poncho-like jacket with the slit for her wings, and her winter gloves. "Warm suits be scary. Look like monsters, if you not know what it is. Better to look like me. Yes?"

[Eric Horst]

Day 789, December, Year unknown
Location: A cell of some sort, I think, I have no idea.

His head hurt like hell, maybe it was because he kept banging it against the wall out of sheer boredom, Dan didn't know anymore, he just wanted something relieve him of this eternal hell. He'd been trapped within the confines of his cell for what felt like years, it was probably more though, probably something along the lines of centuries, he'd long outlived all the other fools, with the exception of maybe the alien or whatever it was. Dan resided on the end row of what he still assumed were cells, and his only "Room mate" was the robed alien being in the cell to his right. To his left there was only a wall. The alien wasn't really fond of conversation though, and they were cold, like not cold in a sense of the alien was ignoring him, but literally freezing the air around it.

Although the cell's were all somewhat isolated, Dan could still feel the seeping cold wistfully making it's way into his cell on one side every so often. That and the constant crying or whatever it was resounding from the alien's cell was beginning to get on his nerves. That was an understatement to say the least, Dan had yelled at the alien to shut up more times then he had bothered to count. How was anything supposed to sleep with constant crying reverberating through the walls?

Dan was finally bored enough to cease his own light banging, and pulled himself to his feet, moving over to the opening on his cell known only as...the door. A fearsome entity indeed.

"HEY! YOU JERKS! IF YOUR STILL ALIVE OUT THERE, GIMME BACK MY PROPERTY! THAT STUFF BELONGED TO MY GRANDMA! RELEASE ME YOU VILE SCUM! TURN ON THE HEAT! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME!?" His shouting seemed to go unheard, as nobody came to the cell door to meet his demands like they were supposed to. Why was the world always so disobedient? Life, why couldn't he wake up from this?

First he'd have to get the dang alien to clam up first though. Why was it he was forced to live forever while trapped in a cell next to a chilly, sobbing extra terrestrial?

[Hero]

Day wasn't exactly sure about Rhylaen's suggestion. It could have been seen as a symbol of trust or even gratitude, but considering how the alien's presence alone demanded the use of the suit, her fragile human self would probably turn into a popsicle if anything went wrong. A pessimistic outlook, maybe, but she wasn't use of anyone dead. She could have turned the offer down, but as she exchanged a look with the man, she inwardly groaned. Well, if she was going to die due to the elements, then hypothermia was better than heatstroke, she supposed. No escaping this, she needed to do the right thing and just agree to it.

"Can't argue with that logic," She mused, placing her notes down in an orderly fashion.

There was no hiding her wariness as she would take the suit originally offered to Rhylaen, taking note of its size. God, this thing was bulkier than what she liked, her preference for comfort over practicality nearly taking over; but if it got the job done then she supposed there was little say in the matter. It didn't take her too long, only stopping to tie her hair before it would get caught in a zipper or something, but once she was finished, she realized the smaller alien had a point. She certainly felt like an alien in this thing.

"Ready when you are," Her muffled voice came out.

[Metronome]

The pile of blankets stirred at the sound of the door swinging open. Through a small hole in the soft armor of the nest, a bright, glowing red eye watched the two women enter. In the control room, one of the scientists watched the monitor showing the room's temperature.

"No drop," He noted. "It must not be able to gather enough energy. The subject is reaching its point of exhaustion."

The alien seemed uninterested. He passively watched the two females approach, but made no move to stand as he would have in the past. His single exposed eye settled on the smaller body, although it was hard to tell with no visible pupil. He was intrigued by her: no suit? She looked different from the others. Was she not the same?

A bowl of plain oatmeal sat by the mattress, completely untouched and now solid as a rock. The cup of water was equally ignored.

[shylarah]

Her suggestion of a second, suited person earned her the right to enter unsuited herself. Pleased with the small victory, Rhylaen waited for Agent-Day to suit up, and darted eagerly to the antechamber leading to the cell. The locks couldn't cycle fast enough to suit her. Inside it was the same temperature, and the unknown one sheltered in a burrow of cloth. She wondered a little at the oatmeal. Why would they feed a warm food to one who seemed to prefer the cold? She'd ask about that later.

For the moment she studied the lump curled on the mattress. She could see one jewel-bright eye watching her, and though the size was different she felt a pang of loss for her own home. Setting that aside, Rhylaen gathered her focus, and tried to project the ideas she wanted to convey. "Let me help you," she said, though she used her own tongue instead of the human one. "You are a stranger, as I was. I mean no harm. Let me help." She extended her hands before her, palms upturned in a sign of peace. For the moment she stayed near the door -- she would not step closer yet, hopefully not until she received some sort of acknowledgement. She could sense the wary presence of Agent-Day behind her, and hoped the other woman would do her best to be unthreatening as well. Her own attention remained on projecting the idea of safety and aid.

[Metronome]

The eye continued to watch them steadily. The alien no longer exuded fear and anxiety. Worse, now it gave off a feeling of defeat. It accepted that it would die here at the hands of these strangers.

He didn't understand the small woman's words, of course, but he recognized the tone. Her gesture reminded him of someone trying to coax a scared cat out of hiding. Or, probably, his alien equivalent to a cat. There had to be one, right?

But as silly as it may seem, it sort of worked. The alien blinking, then slowly moved to sit up. He was slow, weak, but he finally settled in an upright position. The blankets remained over his head, giving him the appearance of a dark ghost with two peircing eyes, clothed in bright flannel.

[shylarah]

Rhylaen was pleased to see the unknown one sitting up. He moved slowly, and still seemed wary, but it was a start. He seemed weighed down, lost. She'd been the same shortly after her arrival, with so many strange things around her and no good way to communicate. She ventured a couple steps closer, then knelt on the floor near the old oatmeal. She left that be -- it looked quite stale -- and instead picked up the tin cup of water. She had no way to say what she wanted, save through actions. He needed to eat. So she drank some of the water herself, enough for the cup to be visibly emptier, then set it on the ground in front of her and pushed it towards the unknown one. The cup scraped as she moved it across the floor, a harsh sound, but she didn't pull back until she'd left it within what she judged to be arm's reach. Then Rhylaen sat up again and waited. If he copied her, she'd have Agent-Day bring something to eat.

[Metronome]

The alien watched the small woman, but seemed uninterested in drinking the water. Instead, he retreated back under his blankets once more. From within the shade they provided from the room's harsh lighting, he continued to watch them steadily.

The lights had been installed after the alien had used his shadow abilities to hide himself in a dome of total darkness. It was thought that his power dampening bracelets blocked use of all his abilities, but clear not. Whatever the case was, once the lights were installed, the alien had begun spending most of his time hiding under the blankets to get away from them.

[Hero]

Well, whatever was happening was...not working.

At least, that was the initial thought. Day remained still, admittedly not wanting to make a wrong move or wanting to hamper Rhylaen's attempt to...do whatever it was that she was doing. Likely trying to make peace, but despite the two being not of this world, it didn't mean that they understood one another. The thought was affirmed when the alien retreated, and she had to bite her tongue not to let out a sigh of defeat. She had to admit, she perfectly understood its discomfort; the lights made her feel like she was being looked at under a magnifying glass.

Shifting her weight from one foot to another, she stayed quiet. It wouldn't understand a word she said anyway, and admittedly the stupid suit was making it difficult to focus. Maybe it was the environment itself that had caused its health issues? Or at least, caused its manner of distrust. Admittedly most of her cases involved being able to, well, actually communicate. She must have underestimated how strong a language barrier could be.

Eventually, Day found herself growing restless. "Any luck?" Her muffled voice came out.

[shylarah]

When the unknown one retreated again, Rhylaen settled back on her haunches and considered him for a long moment, running over what she knew. Agent-Day's tinny voice through her earpiece brought the young woman out of her thoughts. "No...is tired, is weak. Is...maybe hurting?" Rhylaen wished briefly that she was older, wiser, but that was a futile desire. Age and wisdom took time. "Maybe turn down lights?" The lights were hurting her eyes, suited as she was to life in half-shadowed places. If they bothered her after only a little while, how much more must it bother one that was suited to darkness?

"Ask science men, can turn down lights? Please?" she asked after a moment, this time putting certainty into her voice. "I be responsible." She focused on the one in the blankets again, straining to reaching her thoughts out, but her weak telepathy was not meant for the purpose she tried to turn it to.

[Hero]

What a request.

Maybe it was because she had read the case file behind the shadowed alien, but that didn't seem like a good idea. Granted, she was out of her comfort zone; if it wasn't the blinding lights ensuring that she would have a migraine by the time this was all said and done, then it was the suit that would impede her movement if something happened. But it was obvious that they were running out of options, with Rhylaen's request hanging in the air.

Looking up, she let out another, inaudible sigh. The universe was testing her, it seemed. And while she probably should have said otherwise, that nagging feeling of doing the right thing tugged at her. "We'll take responsibility," She corrected her. "Dim the lights." It came out more as an order than a request.

[Metronome]

The alien stared back at Rhylaen from the safety of his blanket nest. He could feel her reaching her mind towards his, but he was resistant. She meant no harm, but yet he was still dying.

When the command to turn down the lights was received, the suited man scoffed. "Absolutely not." He said. "Those lights are the only thing keeping that creature from using its weird shadow powers on the two of you. Who knows what it could do."

Another man butted in. "We actually haven't seen the alien use its powers for ill intent towards us. I think if the lights are weakening it, they may be playing a role in its failing health."

The suited man curled his lip, then waved a hand towards the cell operator. "Fine. Turn the lights down. If anything starts going dark, turn them back up immediately."

The lights in the room dimmed down slowly until the room was just lit enough to see across it. The corners darkened, and the white walls lost their brightness. The alien's bright red eyes, now glowing like hot embers under the blanket, widened. He no longer had to squint as he poked his head out again.

He looked up at the small woman, thinking that maybe she was here to actually help now. He sat back up and held out an arm, sporting one of the silver dampening bracelets that blocked the majority of his powers. He tugged at it, then looked back to her, hoping to get his message across.

[shylarah]

Rhylaen was glad for Agent-May's support, and indeed the other woman had more authority when it came to the men of science. The lights were dimmed after a brief conversation, and the unknown one seemed more willing to interact because of it.

The dampening bracelets, Rhylaen knew, kept its other powers limited. She'd experienced something similar, years ago, and the memory was not a pleasant one. She knew, however, that the men in the other room would only let her push so far before they insisted she leave. She suspected removing the bracelets would get her in real trouble. "I can't," she told him, brows drawing together in concern. She pointed back at the door, trying to indicate others, and shook her head.