abraxaslogs | ᴍʏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ɪs ʙʀᴏᴀᴅ ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ's ᴀ-ʜᴜʀᴛɪɴɢ (closed)

( Dean's dealings with the military and with Free Cities leadership hasn't been particularly broad in the nearly three years he's been here. He helps out, from time to time, when he can — offering up a repository on monsters with Sam Wilson, pitching in when the Singularity gives them some crap to deal with, and most relevantly, dealing with their little problem out in the Badlands. He's not like Captain Sam, he doesn't tend to reach very high above the grunts for things, but this... this is different.

The thing they found out there months ago was wrong, and it's been hard for him to just let it go. Putting those things down isn't really enough. Being told in vague terms that some rogue scientist has been dealt with doesn't really feel like enough, either.

So he makes an appointment with Reva, like a few boots on the ground recommended. When he shows up, he's alone, largely unarmed, and lacking in hostility. He's employing the same approach here that he's used for the last fifteen years pretending to be FBI and interviewing law enforcement back home: calm, professional, pleasantly charismatic. He shows up a few minutes before whenever she agrees to meet, makes a point to be respectful of her time, and waits patiently.

He's angling for two things here. Information's the obvious one — details on the project, on who sanctioned it, on why, on what happened to the son of a bitch that did. But more than that, deeper than that, he wants to get a beat on if he even trusts a word she says. His gut intuition about people's usually pretty strong, and the vibe she puts out matters almost as much as what she's willing to share. )

Edited 2024-09-02 22:20 (UTC)

[The Dean Winchester dossier is passed between a few desks before it eventually lands on Reva's. It is not a startling development, such as it is, given how occupied her superiors are. While she hasn't got an abundance of free time, either, she's determined to handle anything that comes her way. For her, this would be the first time she speaks to a Summoned directly, as well, and that is a valuable opportunity.

The meeting is held in Portam Hall in a nondescript office. There's water on the table and token refreshments. Reva arrives right on time. She's dressed in a sharp uniform and her new rank of Captain is reflected on her collar.

She holds out her hand for a firm and brief shake.]

Good afternoon, Mr. Winchester.

( Maybe it undercuts his professionalism just a little that he absolutely goes for those refreshments. Dude puts down two pastries before Reva arrives, and he's not even sorry. He'll probably grab one on the way back out, too. What? They're for everybody.

He shakes her hand firmly, politely, and flashes her a tight smile. )

Afternoon, Captain. Hope I'm not cutting into your time too much, I'm sure you've got a hell of a lot on your plate these days.

[Her eyes fall to the remarkably less-than-full plate that had been placed, full, here only ten minutes prior. Then she sits down with a set of files in her hands. A few pages look earmarked while others are old parchment.

Her smile in return is cursory and is accompanied by a nod.]

That I do, but I trust you'll make it worth my hour.

[Well, he should hope he will, that is.]

You wanted to speak about the subjects you put down? Was there some trouble about them?

( He will not be made to feel self-conscious about his appetite, no matter how many glances she shoots at that plate. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Anyway, the time for ha-ha jokey pastry humor is temporarily set aside for a much more serious topic.

He sits down across from her, a little chair-scoot to bring himself close enough to her desk that they can speak quietly. )

Yeah, you could maybe say that. ( He starts, and after a beat, levels her with an earnest, assessing look. ) Did you get a chance to see 'em, Captain? The people they had me put down?

[Reva responds with a curt nod.]

Yes. Any bodies which were not returned through you, we collected. Containment purposes.

[It would be unwise to leave such scraps in the Badlands for others to stumble upon. She believes it was mistake as it is that no one cleaned it up until now, but it's not her place to criticize her superior's efforts. She'd have done things differently, though.]

I take it you have concerns about their state?

( Containment purposes. Right.

He gets it — this job, it takes a certain level of professionalism. A certain level of detachment to function efficiently. It's part of why he could never do the army thing, why he could never really get into law enforcement. He doesn't have it in him. But this, those things... those weren't just soldiers, it wasn't just war. He'd like to see that truth in her, even just a hint of feeling about it. )

What those victims went through to wind up- whatever the hell they were, in the end... It was beyond torture. ( To be blunt. No point beating around the bush. ) Whoever they were before, if they were- bandits, or volunteers, or- death row inmates, it doesn't matter, nobody deserves that. Every single piece of who they were was stripped out, dehydrated, cored, gutted, disassembled and soldered back together again- and they didn't even have the mercy of dying from it. Whoever was responsible for them didn't even have the basic goddamn humanity to put them out of their misery.

( They were left to shamble on, in pain, mindless and feral out in the wastes. )

Your guys sold me some vague line about a rogue scientist, and all they wanna tell me about it is that they were dealt with... I'm sorry, but that's not good enough. You gotta give me a little more than that.

( It's not a demand — it's an appeal, a gentle plea coming from a place of compassion. )

I wanna believe that this isn't happening to anybody else. I wanna believe you wouldn't let it. Please help me understand what in the hell really happened here?

[Reva's attention is unwavering. She arches one delicate eyebrow then folds her hands before her on the table.]

If you're asking whether we orchestrated the treatment of our volunteers, the answer is - we didn't. The project was designed to give them a second chance, particularly any who faced punishment or execution. They were only supposed to submit to some performance-enhancing tests.

When its real nature was discovered, we shut it down. We were far too late, I won't tell you otherwise. Our past failures in oversight are the reality of this world. You've seen the lengths Thorne will go through to suppress and conquer us again. Balancing vital progress with complex regulation is a continual struggle.

[Her firm demeanor relents somewhat.]

You need to understand, some of those volunteers were soldiers. Hell, I might've served with some of them. Crimes committed in uniform deserve justice but believe me, I'm not happy about where they ended up, either.

( There are a few key pieces he's taking away from this. Volunteers; second chances. Soldiers and death-row inmates. Performance enhancing tests — so the theory he spun at Ciri a few weeks ago was right.

He chews on the inside of his cheek, his expression gone a little more carefully guarded. )

And what about the people responsible for all this? What happened to them?

Same as the worst of our criminals. They were executed.

[At last, Reva opens the folder. She removes from it some official documents containing the identity of the scientist in charge of the project: a Professor Bradley Haywarde. His appearance is nondescript insofar as the inked drawing provided can convey. Attached to one of the papers is a certification of his death - roughly as official as one can achieve in the Free Cities.]

His partner fled and got himself killed during capture. We returned the body to his daughter, but she wanted nothing to do with him so...it was donated to the Academy.

[The wheel of progress never stops.]

( Executed. He takes a beat to process it — and then nods, slowly, just once. Yeah, no, that's right. The people responsible for that were monsters, they deserved to be put down. Maybe a few of the more wholesome, righteous Summoned wouldn't share that opinion, but Dean sees it as realistic. Unfortunate, definitely grim, but ultimately the right call. They can't be allowed to have the opportunity to do something like that to anybody else, ever again.

Provided the ones who got put down were really the ones responsible, of course, but that's a rabbit hole he's not trying to go down today. He'll take her at her word, until evidence or instinct gives him a reason not to.

He studies Bradley Haywarde's file for a handful of seconds, clocking what details he can, and then leans back in his chair. )

I realize at some point you're probably gonna draw the line and tell me what I'm asking for is confidential, or none of my business, and I get it. I do. But- I gotta at least ask, anyway, so forgive me for shooting my shot here, but... that whole performance enhancement initiative... that's not still going on, is it? Under some kind of rebrand, or under new management?

If you asked me a few weeks ago, you'd be right. Since our project's no longer firmly classified, though, thanks to one of your colleagues -

[Here, her eyebrow raises. The Summoned involved in the affair have been dealt with and she nevertheless isn't authorized to discuss their case...but one must assume they've all heard, word spreading as it tends to.]

- I can tell you we've progressed beyond human subjects and continue to do so. That is to say, our ultimate aim is to work with total machinery to minimize casualties. The enhanced armor is only the beginning.

[The government has no need to hide such goals. If the Summoned who were drawn into Abraxas can't understand the necessity of war, that's a point of concern for her superiors to address.]

( One of his colleagues, wait, what? It takes him a moment before the connections form, visible confusion slowly fading away into tentative understanding. He'd heard about some Summoned-led destruction of a research facility; he hadn't put two and two together until just now. He wasn't involved, didn't know, and ironically it's her that ultimately locks the rumor into place for him.

Progressed beyond human subjects is alarming for a hot second, visions of Super Soldier Serum'd up Thresher Maws or whatever filling his brain until machinery settles his wild imagination down — just a little.

Better. Not great, but better. His goal here isn't to try and talk her out of war, he's not here to cast judgment on every aspect of military decision-making. That's not his area, and he's got too realistic a view of the world to ever think he could sway anything in the government from way down here on his rung of the totem pole. He's nobody, he's less than a grunt, he's nothing.

What matters to him is just that people aren't being tortured, that civilians and soldiers alike aren't getting turned into monsters.

And she's mostly done that, so he nods slowly. )

Thank you for that. For all of it. I know you didn't have to tell me anything, but you did anyway, and I appreciate the gesture.

( He won't push it, won't go digging any deeper. It seems wiser not to waste her time, to quit while he's still in (hopefully) good graces. )

[On her end, Reva is gratified that the meeting has gone smooth. One can't know with these things and she remains new in regards to the diplomatic side of serving her nation. The Summoned arrivals of the Free Cities have occasionally held a particular temperament.]

My pleasure. I trust you'll continue to be discreet. Our citizens have been through enough...it's important they have faith in our ability to protect them. Their faith has grown in you and yours, as well.

[She gathers up her papers and stands. Before she departs, she motions sagely toward the remaining pastries on the plate in case he wants something for the road.]

Enjoy your day, Mr. Winchester.

( Continue to be discreet; his lips press into a thin line, and he nods — just once. Yeah, sure, he'll stay discreet — as long as nobody gives him a reason not to be. If things stay on the up-and-up, there's no reason for him to sound the alarm, but he's not above it if it needs to happen. Whether or not she can pick that out of his countenance is another matter, but for the time being, he's willing to be compliant.

He's not here to stir up shit. He's not here to cause trouble — he's here to make sure it's over. Unlike a lot of the Summoned, Dean's on the small list of folks who have decided to make this place home. Permanent. He aims to stay here for the rest of this second life he's gotten, and part of that means staying on good terms with the government and the military — and her. )

You too, Captain.

( He returns politely, and makes to step out — only to pause, double back, snatch up another pastry and shove it directly into his mouth.

He walks out of the room with his cheeks puffed up, still chewing. )

ᴍʏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ɪs ʙʀᴏᴀᴅ ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ's ᴀ-ʜᴜʀᴛɪɴɢ (closed)

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thank you mods!!