Scene #9578: Give Me Back Lilian's Shock Collar

Owner	Pose
Petra Soroka	Mesmer's somehow gotten away with it. However it was that she got out of that chair in Lilian's office, she managed to exert unequivocal force over Lilian with Dictum's guidance, and got results with her panic attack, and hasn't had to see or hear from Lilian at all since. She can simply return to her routine, the same as always, without any disruption besides Dictum's presence in short-term lab. She's back to sitting at the bedside of a comatose patient, monitoring their Artificial Somnambulism readings, alone in a ward that no one else has a reason to interrupt her in for at least a short time. Florescent lights hum, medical machinery beeps, the window that takes up nearly an entire wall only lets in weak grey sunlight that's smothered by the sterile room without changing anything about its colors. Someone who enjoys their job could even describe it as a moment of peace. That is, until the door slides open. The first thing to come through it isn't a person, but several droplets of gleaming chrome metal that seamlessly match the equipment of the LSCC if it were melted down, zipping through the air to the camera in the corner of the room, and the button to call for a nurse. The former is cut off by a burst of electromagnetic impulse, looping the last minute of recording over and over, and the latter is shielded from any wandering hands by a metal bubble cupping over it, happening in tandem with the figure behind the door revealing herself. Petra has to wear the vest whenever she's at the LSCC. It's just part of her uniform. But when she closes and locks the door behind herself without turning away from Mesmer, rather than a service dog, she gives off the distinct impression of a snarling animal barring the one way out of the yard. She folds her arms, but one fist clenches and twists around her fingers rather than resting comfortably on her bicep. "Do you wanna explain what the fuck is wrong with you?"
Foundation Scions	A return to routine is an inevitability. It hardly matters that, in some sick sense, of that terrible exchange, she 'won', just as it hardly matters that she spent nearly half of an entire day locked up to a medical chair in Lilian's empty office- the same routine is there, through the entire world ending, time and time again, if it could at all be a comfort to sink back into, Mesmer Jr. would be the luckiest person in the world. Machines in the routines of an assembly line just wear out. In a normal day's shift, a half-dozen times an hour, technicians and nurses wander unannounced into ward-rooms of unconscious patients, with myriad little tasks to accomplish, or notifications for whosoever might be operating in them- Mesmer Jr. isn't even the type to turn when she hears the door slide open behind her, and brighter hallway light flood in, otherwise dimmed and guarded against by thick teal curtains. With her face still towards a console, the "What do you need?" that automatically fires off is routine to the point of unconsciousness- no part of it steels her for company or confrontation, just another task of the dull blur. A lack of response, oddly, wouldn't even set off alarm bells. What does set off (figurative, given the goo's current mission) alarm bells is spotting out of the corner of her eye, dripping silver; and in fitting disgust, skull-splitting and skin-prickling retaliatory feedback where the EM signatures of a mind ought to be. At least that's recognizable- but what to do about a sudden encounter with Petra Soroka has no automatic response. Mesmer turns, looking over-shoulder at first, and without even processing that the emergency call button is covered, reaches a hand towards it, only barely stopping short from grabbing into the silver bubble. 'Do you wanna explain what the fuck is wrong with you?' A frantic few heel-clacks follow Mesmer spinning to face Petra, and her hand drifts towards the K-tope callibrator still kept at her hip, even here, in an unconscious patient's room. Mesmer presses a console button, and oscilloscopes dip down in activity; ensuring, for some reason, that there won't be a risk of them waking in the midst of this. Unfitting of her obvious fear, "No. I don't, not in the slightest. Please, leave the premises, this isn't somewhere you're authorized to be. I'm in the middle of a delicate procedure." Deciding that reaching for her gun is, maybe, the wrong response, with effort, she instead grabs at her other hand's wrist- the action comes with a slight wince, cut off by- "What were you sent for? Just to ask that? To harass me? I can imagine far more effective times, but this is a medical facility, with the well-being of others at risk from... whatever it is you're doing. And- turn off that awful interference."
Petra Soroka	It would actually be such a huge problem for Petra if Mesmer grabbed her gun right now, or if she just started screaming. She can't do anything about that besides violence, and she can't do that here! It'd get her in so much trouble! She's banking on Mesmer just being a wishy-washy loser bitch who can't commit to anything to save her life, which is a belief that's at least temporarily vindicated. "Yeah, yeah, sorry for interrupting you Shinji-ing it up on your own in here, but I don't actually give a shit." Petra lingers, back against the door, glaring at Mesmer and working out her hostile intent through fidgeting with her fingers. "You fucking idiotic piece of shit, you know exactly why I'd be here. Are you fucking kidding? Shouldn't doing that to Lilian immediately justify you being executed by me, the Himorogikage, literally Lilian herself, or any number of people? Are you fucking stupid?" "The cameras are off, by the way." She means that both as a threat, and to clarify that Mesmer's response won't break Sakura's rules. "But because you're a Mesmer, you're such a precious, useful little machine, that no one can ever justify murdering you just because of how much of a fucking inconvenience it'd be. So that's where we are. Do you get it?" Petra stalks a few steps towards her, psychic distortion amplifying like hooked needles twisting in flesh. "And I'm sorry, is it bothering you? Is it uncomfortable? That must be so hard for you! Maybe next time I see your sorry fucking face I should find a way to beam how that incantation feels right into your skull!"
Foundation Scions	"Shinji-ing? You'll have to explain what that means if you want that to sound at all comprehensible. I don't care what you're implying; but, it's best practices, isn't it?" Mesmer isn't on guard enough to bother going back for her gun, and, obviously, is a wishy-washy loser. Instead, almost defensively, she takes up her standard crossed-arm posture, and nearly backs up into a corner between the patient cot and console bank. Interrupting just a bit, "What-? No, of course you're here about the DTR> I said I'd return it, after I've-" Nope! Immediately, anger takes over instead of healthy fear! "'Doing that'? Did no-one explain that she was in the midst of attempting to torture me? Excuse me for attempting to defend myself. If a bullet would have been appropriate, what I did is obviously humane in comparison." Never mind the fact that what she did didn't even stop her from being stuck there. Yippee. Mesmer, annoyed, stamps her foot about this, for some reason. Higher pitched, more nasal, "'Justify murdering'? There's no justifying such a thing towards anyone, you're kidding yourself, and it isn't funny. You're right, that it would be an inconvenience if I was killed. You're right, that I'm irreplaceable. Congratulations for those achievements in critical thinking- it's rare in end-stage rabies cases; the rest of whatever it is you're ranting about is gibberish, go gnash your teeth at a mirror instead. What do you imagine you're accomplishing, playing at this?" Mesmer, then, immediately, shuts up, digs her fingernails into her arms, and nearly falls back against the console, with nowhere to move away from Petra, as the psychic feedback worsens. It's enough to make her want to scream; something she's obviously trying not to, with scrunched-up eyes. As much as anyone can actually habituate to it, after a moment, the only thing Mesmer has to say back to Petra is a discombobulated "What? What did you say?"
Petra Soroka	Petra can't explain what she meant by that at all. First of all, because Mesmer deserves no explanation about anything ever, secondly because it'd require going back to a misunderstanding Petra had months ago, and lastly because explaining the plot of Evangelion to a woman is tantamount to suicide. "She was drawing your blood you fucking idiot! And besides! If she'd slit you in half right there, the appropriate response would be to say thank you!" Petra huffs. "Whore." Mesmer stomping her foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum makes Petra's blood pressure spike high enough that she sees stars. She feels like she's been hit over the head with a cartoon mallet. Mesmer's continued string of nasally complaints and insults starts to have a similar effect on Petra that her psychic feedback is having on her, and she grips the top of her hair with both hands and sighs in frustration. "How have you not killed yourself? Why haven't you killed yourself? What do you even get out of this?" Petra steps forwards and shoves Mesmer's shoulder, not with much strength behind it, but still enough to send her falling backwards in this state. The girlish urge to stomp on Mesmer's ribcage is vented by instead stomping the ground beside her, more like an angry bull than a child. "Here's what's gonna happen. Okay? There's no after. I'm a roboticist, and I'll transfer Dictum into a proper housing, right now, and you won't be holding them fucking captive anymore. And then, if you ever use that incantation on Lilian again, I'll make sure you never see the light of day for the rest of your miserable life, whatever Sakura or the LSCC thinks, okay?" Petra makes another frustrated noise, backing away from Mesmer so she can get up, but stalking around her as much as the room allows. "And you know what! Even if you hadn't done that to Lilian, what you're doing to Dictum is fucked! You're such a petty, stupid bitch, and you've got them holed up in your room like they're your personal weapon, because they're the only one who doesn't have enough context to know what a fucking idiot you are. You're more psychologically corrosive than eight hundred years in the vaccuum of space. I'm gonna have to do so much work again just to undo your fucking damage."
Foundation Scions	'She was drawing your blood you fucking idiot!' "Against my will, and routine phlebotomy doesn't involve physical restraints or threats to imprison. I'm sure I'd know that better than you. But go on, you're making a fool of yourself." Mesmer, somehow, has both the anger and the gall to scoff at 'whore'. "I can't see why I'd thank her for anything of the sort." Then, getting more uncomfortable the more she speaks, but still speaking, "I was the one aiding her research, and I certainly didn't receive anything similar to a thank you. Ridiculous." There's nowhere, really, for Mesmer to fall when Petra shoves her. Against the edge of the cot, and falling at the foot of a bank of blink-beeping computers, some unlabeled part of the Artificial Somnambulism contraption that's still plodding along on its treatment course. Mesmer bumps a button on it, and a small alarm starts to sound at some part of it all, but she can't do anything about it here. Petra raising up a leg gets Mesmer to try and twist out of the way, not at all expecting that it wouldn't be her ribcage that is Petra's target. Bleary, from the proximity feedback, the adrenaline heart-rate spike, and a few new sources of pain, "Get away from me! I-" A short breath that cuts off her words, "You're a maniac. What do you care about doing it yourself? It'll get done just the same. It's a tape recorder, not a captive. It isn't mobile, it can't talk, and it can't defend itself- I'm keeping it safe, you lunatic!" Mesmer does a sharp inhale, and wipes her face with her sleeve-cuff, before trying o take the slight gap to stand again and shut off the beeping console alarm. "Death threats. I don't know how anyone has agreed to humor your fetishistic 'service dog' nonsense, but I'll have you barred from this campus, in perpetuity." She can't help but say that even before she's pulled herself standing, she's still clutching at the cot's rail for balance. Blinking, trying to clear eyes from nothing in particular, "I've no specific hope to have to defend myself again, so, be quiet and stop yammering on and on about incantations and bloodlust. I've had it." Mesmer's eyes follow Petra as she paces around, her hand, again, back on her K-tope Calibrator, visibly trembling this time. Everyone knows that holding the grip of a pistol is actually really good for soothing anxiety, fear, and anger! Yippee! Towards the other end of the room, not hooked up, strangely, to the AS contraption, is Mesmer's favorite little portable memory encoder, in its glass bell-jar shaped glory. The closer Petra gets to it, the closer Mesmer is to pulling out her zapgun- which she does, when Petra speaks up. "I'm the only one who's tried, at all, to keep an important artifact safe, and the only one successful at retrieving the information you've obviously been dying for. Are you jealous that it's glad to have had someone sensible to communicate with, and it obviously wasn't you? Are you itching to figure out those incantations?" Calibrator actually fully aimed at Petra, "I haven't damaged it at all. It's safe, fine, and in proper company. You can leave, now. I've got the matter well in hand." . . . The encoder's shell is clear glass. In the mess of old machinery, a 70's era DTR doesn't stand out much at all, but, if looked at enough, it's there, obvious, in plain sight, within the encoder. Safely stashed away, really?
Petra Soroka	"Against my will, and routine phlebotomy doesn't involve physical restraints or threats to imprison." "You don't have a will! You're a tool! You got assigned to do it because your blood's the only useful thing about you!" Petra's hands tense into disbelieving claws, like she'd grip the sides of Mesmer's head and shake it if she wasn't frenetically pacing on the other side of the room. "And you committed a crime right after! So, kinda looks like there was some fucking merit to threats of imprisonment!" She swivels towards Mesmer and glares, jabbing a finger in her direction. "And I'm doing it because it's going to be done as soon as possible. If I let you get out of my sight, you'll come up with another couple weeks of fucking excuses, and I'm done with it. I'm done with you. You should've wiped your memory on the first day we accessed the Voyager; or better, shot yourself in the head." "And call me a lunatic one more time. I haven't attacked anyone. You have." Petra's teeth grit, practically growling. Mesmer's disdain towards Petra's role as service dog comes at the same time that Petra's thoughts are repeatedly looping reassurances about how well she's behaving and how Sakura and Lilian will be so proud of her when they learn that she handled this without violence. "Fucking please. If wanting you dead was a firable offense, this building would be empty in a week." Petra internally recognizes that this is a line that could accidentally spark sympathy in her, so she packages it up in her mind, and throws it away. "Especially since you're literally completely unhurt. Unlike Lilian." Petra isn't really watching Mesmer's twitchy little reactions to her stomping around, to avoid straining her prey drive. So she doesn't notice until Mesmer's fully pulled out the K-Tope calibrator, coming to a stop nearby the transcriptor with a disbelieving expression. The Silver droplets encasing every escape route Mesmer could find shiver with angular ripples on their surface. "I didn't fucking see them, jackass! They didn't refuse to talk to me, or literally anyone but Lilian! I was unconscious! You stole them before I got a chance!" Petra breathes out, heavy, shifting from shouting anger into deep-seated antipathy. "A month or so ago, to Dictum's perspective, they were a person, on a planet, and not an object. They're perfectly capable of being reasonable, and being kidnapped by the most fuckless, vindictive loser in the Sector isn't proper for anything at all. You still don't even know what you're doing when you talk to them like that. You don't have perspective or context or a single shred of dignity in your whole body." She shifts her weight, and Mesmer's immediate fearful snap of her raygun finally draws her attention. Petra follows Mesmer's gaze towards the encoder machine, narrowing her eyes. She doesn't immediately recognize the DTR, because last time she saw it, it was completely unimportant, and it's only through secondhand comments that she knows what happened at all. "Is this it? Seriously? You've just been dragging them around all day?" That's actually better than leaving them on her desk, or wherever she'd keep Dictum otherwise, but Petra is indignant at everything right now. "Fine. Alright." Petra straightens up, pouring a small splash of Silver into her palm that stretches into a screwdriver. "Alright, then. Take me to your office and I'll do it right now. If you won't leave your shift, then I'm sticking with you until it's done, and then we're doing it, and then I'm bringing Dictum back to Lilian's lab."
Foundation Scions	"It wasn't a crime. It wouldn't hold up in a court of law, nor, would it be a sane idea with the circumstances for it to end up there. It was self-defense to the threats. Listen, won't you?" Her words are, compositionally, similar to how she's always talking, but it's there on her face how upset she is. "It's been covered in depth why memory erasure or death aren't on the table. I don't need to relitigate it," Scrunched-up stress expression, "It's tiring, and I don't want to." Then, whispered, when she gets a moment of air, "Lunatic." "It doesn't matter in the slightest if it's a fireable offense, you aren't an employee, and I still have," Some amount of purely consultative, "Jurisdiction on who's even allowed through the warpgate here in the first place. And no, I wasn't 'unhurt'. Not that that should matter in the first place, I've no reason to discuss private matters with a rabid freak who-" Hand on the cot rail to steady herself, Mesmer breathes in, and out. "Forget it. It doesn't matter. You hardly understand sapient language." 'They're perfectly capable of being reasonable,' "More so than you, obviously. I've noticed that myself, it's quite pleasant to talk with. You're right. You wouldn't know. Frankly, it's absurd to imagine letting you speak to it; and for all I know, you're just going to destroy it the second you can. Why would I believe you'd do anything but?" Mesmer waves towards the door with the K-tope Calibrator, again, embarrassingly, trying to tell Petra to leave. But of course it doesn't work. With a snarl at Petra actually noticing the hiding spot, "Of course I've been keeping it close by. No-where else is as secure as where I can watch. Obviously. I'm sure you've already figured that out, yes? Or else you wouldn't be here. If I get back to my office, and it's ransacked, I'll know who to blame." Still on edge, when Petra shifts silver into a screwdriver, Mesmer interrupts- "What are you doing? If that's a weapon, I'll shoot. Put it down." It isn't! Lip-twitch, still aiming at Petra, Mesmer sighs. "Fine. Fine. Next time, wear a tool belt and say you're just here as a mechanic, and save me the trouble of that entire exchange." Mesmer is soooo mad. 'After Dictum is in a robot' is such a perfect stall-point until someone's here putting Dictum in a robot. It's her own intention! No 'no, actually, let's not' can fit! Pouty-seething, with a gun in hand still, "You're right. Right now is fine enough. I'm sure the patient will be fine." Snarky, on a theory tangent she's made up with no proof, "You already know the way, don't you? It's just down the hall."