maskormenace | 001

[ Negan's got a cigarette burning between his lips as he's staring at the screen, squinting at the screen -- trying to figure out how this whole network thing works. Don't mind him. It's been a while since he's had to technology. ]

Jeesus. It's been nothin' but back to back holidays since I got here. There's no easin' a guy into this shit, is there? And we got another one right around the corner. Don't suppose any ladies out there feel like gettin' wasted and pounding it out into the New Year, huh?

[ Negan flashes a smirk. ]

Kiddin', kiddin'. I mean, unless someone seriously wants to take me up on that offer. Then I ain't gonna decline.

[ He takes a moment to finish off his cigarette before stamping it out into the ashtray. ]

I apologize for not gettin' on with the whole introductions thing sooner. It's been a long ass time since I've used anything like a phone. And we never had the sort you can video chat with. Zombie apocalypse, and all. Look at that! I'm using your lingo and everything. No one can say I ain't adaptable.

[ With a lazy chuckle, he leans forward all friendly like. Conversational. ]

The name's Negan. And color me curious -- we got all of these imPorts here, people with goddamn superpowers...and no one's even bothered to elect a leader yet? Don't all these superhero teams have leaders? I mean, when things go to shit -- and they will go to shit -- who is there to rally the troops? Might be something to think about...especially if anymore jackasses try to take over the goddamn moon. I'm just sayin'.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yeah. We got ambassadors and a commander of a team, but no uniform leader. No one person to oversee it all. And if you ask me, we are sorely in need of one.

[ He shrugs innocently. ]

I don't know why the fuck they're called zombies here. But back home we call 'em biters, walkers, the dead. Pretty much they're what people become after they die. Mindless, rotting corpses who're still walking around in spite of it all.

They're mindless, where you come from? [Now Sabriel's interested.]

The ones that come back on their own retain some intelligence, even if they have little memory of their living identities. Most necromancers generally strip the spirits they bring back of both memory and intelligence, unless it's a powerful spirit.

You trying to tell me you got people who bring 'em back on purpose? Why in the hell would anyone wanna do that?

Because they've become so corrupted by the magic they claim to master that they think it's a good idea to do so? Or they're simply hungry for power and see a legion of the Dead under their control as a way to achieve that.

And they actually got control? Like real control....and not keeping them at the end of a very long chain? 'Cause the biters I know can't be easily controlled. Once they get a whiff of the living, all bets are off.

Over the lesser ones at least. Over the more powerful ones... that depends on the necromancer. It's not unheard of for weaker ones to be enslaved by the very Dead they were attempting to master.

Serves 'em right! If they're bringing that shit into the world, then the dead oughta turn the tables on 'em now and again.

I can't say I disagree. But dealing with necromancers- and the mess they make- was my f-[She almost says father's, but she catches herself.] my work in my world.

So you wrangle up the zombie makers and give 'em what's due, huh? How old are you, darling? 'Cause you don't sound too old.

[ Another case of someone being forced to grow up before their time? In the world of the undead, probably. ]

And deal with the Dead themselves, among other things.

I'm eighteen. [There's something curt in Sabriel's tone. She doesn't want to be seen as a child, or someone to be defended.] I've dealt with Dead things since I was twelve.

My condolences, pumpkin. I know that shit's hard. I've seen what growing up in that sorta world does to people. And I can hear in your voice what it's done to you. Turned you hard. Tough. Serious. Not bad traits, per se. But I think you're missing out on doing fun, eighteen year old things.

[ What CAN eighteen year olds do? They can't drink yet... ]

Like...buying cigarettes. Probably not your thing, though. Hm. Or watching porn?

Those aren't the kind of films I like to watch. [There's a harshness to Sabriel's voice.]

And dealing with the Dead is my family's purpose- I haven't lost anything. [She has. But there's no point mourning it.]

[ There's a skeptical silence. ]

You ever even watch those kinda movies? But I digress.

There, maybe it's your purpose to deal with the dead. But what's your purpose here where there are no dead?

Some imPorts here are Dead. But I'm not permitted to deal with them until they pose a clear threat.

And my family's work also involves dealing with other supernatural forces- of which there are certainly some here.

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