maskormenace | 001. ( an important advertisement. )

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001. ( an important advertisement. )

( Brace yourselves, imports - possibly literally. Whatever volume the device was on somehow seems too loud with the energetic blast of an aggressively catchy opening credits tune and is soon accompanied by a Dramatic Voiceover. You know the type of voice - mysteriously gravelly and somehow sounding just too intense. )

HAVE YOU EVER WOKEN UP ( dramatic pause ) TO DISCOVER THE WORLD ( dramatic pause ) IS A DARKER PLACE THAN YOU EVER KNEW? AND JUST KNOWN ( dramatic pause ) THAT CHANGE WAS ON THE HORIZON?

( Ah, yes, a shot of a Manly Form against the skyline, silhouetted by the sunlight, and with a shotgun against his shoulder. )

CAN LOVE SURVIVE WHEN IT SEEMS LIKE THE WORLD IS AGAINST YOU? AND ( an even more dramatic pause ) .... CAN YOU SURVIVE WITHOUT LOVE?

( Fade to black, but only for a moment.
Behold, gentle viewers, the face of purest suffering. At the very least it is a look of intense suffering, because Rosita has taken several weeks of being intensely aggravated by producers and reminding herself that she needs the money to help Carl and Daryl and Andrea and Enid and keep them all safe to try, and allowed herself to be trained into looking slightly more cooperative. )

Hi. I’m ImPort Rosita Espinosa, and I’m here to bring romance back from the dead. ZomBae will be hitting your screens in just a few weeks, a fresh new show combining the trials of finding love with surviving the apocalypse.

( Okay, no. She still sounds like she hates this, and she still does, but it’s been turned into a marketing #aesthetic. Have you ever heard a tone more flat? Isn’t it great how aloof she is? )

( Yeah, sure. But wait! Who’s this handsome devil? There is a new person on screen, and that person would be one Gabriel Grey. He looks as if he is enjoying this about as much as Rosita is when he speaks. )

My name is Gabriel, [ he may be reading off some cue cards, focus intent an inch left of the camera, maintaining his own deadpan #aesthetic ], I'm 30, and I come from New York City. I would call myself resourceful and hardworking, which would work to my advantage in the wake of some kind of world-ending disaster like the zombie apocalypse and also [ he is definitely reading off cue cards ] love.

( Back to Rosita, and she is resting an axe against her shoulder as she talks, rubbing her forehead for a brief moment before she forces herself to go on. Flat as Hell: ) But we need your help to find Gabriel his perfect partner in survival, and in life.

( And now, a montage:
Gabriel and Rosita fight zombies. Gabriel and Rosita scan the terrain with binoculars. Gabriel and Rosita fortify a room and Prepare For Battle. Gabriel and Rosita ride some horses on a beach only for the camera to pan back and show some extras dressed as zombies shambling after them, and then!!! The final shot: Gabriel picks up a SINGLE PERFECT ROSE (sigh) from amidst the mud and carnage… and stares into the sunset. It’s very wistful. (It’s not very wistful at all.)

( All in all, it’s as terrible as it sounds. )

( Now, enough of that montage; back to the present, and their artistically messy hair. Rosita looks to Gabriel, and her expression very much is along the lines of please, let this be the end, let me die, before her jaw flexes and she forces out the last bit with a smile. )

If you think you have what it takes to be a Zombae, or you know someone who does, then let us know by leaving a comment.

( ooc: Green is Rosita, red is Gabriel, and comments will be coming from both of them. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ And here's a familiar face popping no the screen in a response—well maybe not as familiar as originally thought. Eyebrows and hair more angular, skin tone just a touch too green, but the voice and face is pretty much a dead match.

The not-quite-Gabriel's-face quirks an eyebrow, though it's uncertain if he's commenting on the video he just witnessed or the lookalike. (Most likely the former, but you never know!) ]

Fascinating ...

( Rosita just—

Leans ever so slightly closer, examining the face (and the ears, and the everything) on the other end of the communication with a sharp, assessing kind of gaze, before leaning away.

Eventually: )

That's one word for it.

( Internally: what the fuck. )

[ He looks back directly at the screen while she examines him, the eyebrow not coming down yet. ]

Indeed. Are you closely acquainted with your companion?

( She's not very good at sounding anything other than short, irritated or frustrated at the moment. It's not a talent of hers at the best of times, but this is a rather out of the norm kind of situation, for her, and that was before she saw Not-Gabriel. )

He's a friend.

( And, after a moment of consideration, ) You're Mister Spock, right?

Affirmative, I am Commander Spock, [ he says neutrally with hardly any inflection. If he's taking any sort of exception to her short tone, he's not showing it in any way. ]

( "Affirmative" this really is some alien bullshit or this is some new plot twist the producers are working on to screw with her. Either seems possible. )

Commander of what?

( It's less spiky. Maybe by like, half a percent. )

Commander of Starfleet, the deep space exploratory and defense service maintained by the United Federation of Planets.

( Hang on. Just—

Just give her a minute. She just needs a minute (or fifteen, or twenty-seven) to absorb that information.

Rosita exhales, slowly, and just nods. She doubts this is an elaborate Plot Twist so much as just this place being bizarre. Again. )

I've never heard of the United Federation of Planets.

( And then, a shrug. ) So what, you defend planets in trouble?

[ He's displaying great patience while she takes her minute or four to wrap her head around that, his expression still showing no reaction to her surprise or her suspicion. He calmly answers her as if there wasn't a great pause. ]

I have found that many within this reality have not heard of the Federation.

In essence you are correct, though in addition to the defense of the Federation, Starfleet's principal functions include the advancement of Federation knowledge about the galaxy and its inhabitants, the advancement of Federation science and technology, as well as the facilitation of Federation diplomacy.

— Right.

( That was a whole bunch of stuff that while, in theory, was interesting? Was more Eugene's area than hers. He'd probably love this guy. They could have amazingly flat sounding talks that Rosita would tune out, mostly. Interesting did not necessarily mean important to survival, and while that wasn't her only standard for whether she should focus on something, it had a certain significance. )

You ever use your science and technology if a planet was dying? Or, uh, its inhabitants? Like from a plague, or something.

[ Wow, that was an unexpected landmine of a question. Not that Rosita could tell the impact of such a question on Spock with his ever-neutral expression. He forcibly turns his thoughts away from his own home planet and answers her with as much honesty as he would give anyone else. ]

If such actions were acceptable under the Prime Directive, then the Federation would do anything they could to preserve life.

[ After some amount of hanging back; ]

Who are you?

[ Spock keeps his video feed up as if he were talking directly at whomever he's addressing. ]

I am Commander Spock. I presume I am speaking with Miss Espinosa's companion, Gabriel?

[ Finally, not at the behest of a gesticulating producer, he switches to video. His affect is flat and unimpressed, maybe a little hostile. ]

That's right.

[ If he ever wanted to know what he looks like as a space elf with a bowl cut-- ]

Why do you look like me?

[ Whereas Spock's expression is mostly a neutral blank save for the curiosity behind the quirk in his eyebrow and slight tilt of his head. ]

I am not certain I could provide an answer when my initial response would be to ask the same of you.

My money is on you've been here longer than I have.

[ He's new. Newish, by now. Newer. But he can sense there's no answer waiting for him. ]

[ His head tilts a fraction of an inch more. ]

A curious turn of phrase, [ said as if he's not familiar with money, what, ] but unless you arrived before the month of March in the current year, you would be correct.

I didn't.

[ No follow up on demanding from the space alien about why weird shit happens, at least, but it does leave them in something of a stand-off. From Sylar's perspective, anyway, hostility having not lost its quiet edge.

Curiousity, too, of a reluctant sort. He manages to smooth his voice into something dry and sardonic; ]

You're not volunteering for the show, are you?

[Jim had been out of the room grabbing a drink from downstairs when he got this text from his friend Bones.

A door in the background opens then closes. Off to one side--]

Hey Spock, Bones just sent me--

[The voice trails off. Jim sees how intently Spock is staring at the screen of his comm.

An attractive blonde man with piercing blue eyes appears over Spock's shoulder.]

...Holy shit.

I will decline from doing so, thank you. [ There's also a slight hint of a sardonic tone, but it's very light.

He about to continue on when Jim interrupts by leaning in over his shoulder. ]

—Please pardon my companion.

[ At least it has a sense of humour.

Or an accidental sense of humour. Sylar is about ready to cut the feed around when a second face pops into frame, and it's enough to have him pause and study this newcomer. He raises an eyebrow. ]

No problem. You may as well introduce us to avoid any future confusion.

[ Dry, dry, dry. ]

[Jim cannot get over this. He's leaning in even closer to examine the face on the screen more closely.

At Spock's reference though, Jim just glances at him with a Look, then returns to look at the screen and leans back a bit.]

Jim Kirk.

[And okay he can't help himself, he has to ask:]

Are you human?

[ Spock returns Jim's Look with his own, having to keep leaning away as Jim leans in closer to maintain some distance. Dammit Jim.

He remains quiet though, listening for Sylar's response to Jim's question. ]

[ He rolls his eyes. It's possibly an improvement from the way he was sizing up his not-quite-reflection scarcely a minute ago, and also: a switch flicked, some other mode of engagement taking over.

Still dickish, more amicable. ]

More human than your friend, here. Are you an alien too?

Not hard.

[Spock can probably feel Jim's amusement by now over their bond. A grin slowly starts to spread on hbis face. He's never seen Spock himself roll his eyes but this was an excellent second choice.]

100% human. Haven't seen you around before.

001. ( an important advertisement. )

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