The Post-Apocalyptic Doughnut Thief

[ablacksun]

Nothing in Antillioch is clean. Or tidy. Or not covered in a thick layer of desert. Which is why the appearance of a pristine white door that may well lead to some spiffed-up futuristic hospital ward is something of a shock to Zack. There follows a brief consultation with his brother, who doesn't seem to want anything to do with it, as it's so ..spotless, and white, and... ewww. For the two hellgods it's completely out of place and worse. They're so attuned to their hell dimension that anything this hygienic sits in the craw like a stuck fishbone.

Abe, casually examining his fingernails, suggests Zack tries the handle, just, you know, to see if it's locked. We don't want anything pleasant coming in. Stupidly, Zack's curiosity wins over and he does actually open the door a crack... Abe swiftly shoves him straight though it, and the Apocalyptic prince is sent sprawling. He literally faceplants into this new, uncomfortably pure environment.

He's ended up on the main plaza, and lifts his head, not liking anything he sees. But that's Zack all over. He doesn't like anything much. He even snarls at the few unfortunate people closest to him.

Nothing about the Nexus feels comfortable to Zack. Not until he smells something drifting across the plaza. He follows the scent until he comes to a doughnut stand.

Zack is the embodiment of the post-apocalyptic hellscape. He's on nodding terms with all four horsemen, and his own essence combines War, Famine, Pestilence and Death.. or more accurately the after-effects of such things. Away from his own dimension, he feels the hunger of famine, and Zack hasn't actually ingested anything for centuries.

Now he's in the realm of the living, these soft little dough things smell amazing.

He grabs one and tears into it, ignoring the stallholders protests about something like paying, or money, or something. When the stallholder tries to physically take his arm, Zack pulls away, swipes another of the sweet dough shapes, and wrenches himself away from the stand. Zack moves through the crowds away from the still-shouting stalholder, almost bumping into everyone - he's not used to crowds.

And he doesn't understand the concept of theft.

He almost sends some poor person tumbling as he tries to make his exit. But he can't find the infernal door and that stupid sweet-dough-thing person is still on his tail. Zack grabs the nearest passerby by the lapel, demanding... “What's his fucking problem? What the fuck's money? What does that even mean?”


[ooc: Cue argument between your muse, Zack, and the doughnut seller. Mun apologises for his language and behaviour. He's not housebroken yet...]

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[sonof_mogh]

Worf had heard the commotion coming from where the donut seller was and immediately intervened since this was his years of being head of security coming into play now. Frowning deeply, the Klingon noticed the donut seller's plight and saw how angry he was. Then, the new stranger was pulling on the end of his Klingon tunic, demanding and shouting. Worf wrenched his clothes free and grabbed onto the man's arm, almost growling. He hated it when people touched him, especially demanding strangers who happened to be a thief.

"You stole? Then, you are a theif! Unhand me or I will cut your hand off myself."

The Klingon growled and then withdrew one of hie Mek'leth blades from inside the back of his tunic. This man was not from here but that did not mean he had the right to steal. Worf hated thieves since that was the most dishonourable thing anyone could be. A coward.

"Give back the food you stole. Here in the Nexus, you use your PINpoint to pay for items. You should have one. Do this now."

Worf's tone was stern and his deep voice powerful. Not to mention the guy was over 6'4" and made of muscle. He was in no mood for dealing with thieves, not today.

Worf love! (might have to invoke the anti violence field for this one.)

[ablacksun]

Well. This one is certainly strong. As the being tears himself away from Zack's grip, the hellspawn braces, adopting an aggressive posture and ready to do battle. War is a natural part of any world's decline, and this he can work with.

“Thief? PINpoint? What is that?” he demands, having no real idea about such concepts. He squares up the much larger being, ready to take him on. It's a little David and Goliath, but if there's one thing Zack isn't, it's cowardly. He may have no idea who or what a Klingon is, but he's certain this is no god.

“Thank you, sir!” cries the stallholder to Worf as he catches up.

Having been told both to pay now, and to return the goods now, is a tad confusing. Zack throws the uneaten and somewhat crushed doughnut back at the stallholder.

“I'd have to puke to return the other one,” he sneers. “I'm happy to oblige. though. If that would make you happy.”

Oh, it's there. Worf is just giving you a warning, pal.

[sonof_mogh]

This one is strong and is easily provoked. Right now he's eyeing you up, Zack, wondering if you are a little thief.

"Are you a fool? It is the device you are given once you enter into this place. Did you not read the pamphlet or were you so intent on stealing your mind drifted from it?"

The Klingon's blades were still drawn but by his side as a warning. If this guy tried to run or grab anything else then Worf would leap into action. He had spent a good deal of his life chasing after criminals and bringing them to justice aboard his starship. This was no different. He nodded to the stall holder and was glad the thief had been apprehended.

"Do not do something you will regret. You filthy, P'taq. What would make me happy is for you to abide to the rules here. No thieving. You insulted this vendor and stole his produce. For that I would cut off your hands and then gut you. You may thank this world for their weakness---the anti-violence field. I do not condone it but then I do not make the rules here."

Worf hated the anti-violence field.

[ablacksun]

“I'm not a fool!” If he's going to be scolded, Zack can scold right back. “And what in the name of Gaia is a pamphlet?” He can't even read.

Zack is unarmed but he has the certainty that his powers will protect him. He's wrong. The nexus has disabled most of them. The information that there is something called an anti-violence field does make him realise that he can't attack, hence be attacked. Because of this, Zack's posture alters a little, to only slightly aggressive.

“I was pushed through a door,” he explains carefully and slowly so the idiot mortals can understand him. “I don't have a PINpoint. I don't have a pamphlet. I was hungry. It hurts. So I ate. And I'm not a P'taq. You're a P'taq. Your stupid face is a P'taq.”

At mention of cutting off hands and gutting people, the doughnut vendor pales a little, and tries to intervene. “Ah, sir,” he says to Worf, “he looks kind of roughed up... he could be some sort of refugee.”

Zack is only vaguely aware of what a refugee might be, and is too busy wondering if he is one, to argue.


[ooc: So sorry about him. Inbuilt apology.]

[sonof_mogh]

"You are a fool if you think people here will tolerate stealing. Do not test me."

The Klingon growled, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth, those of which he has used before to bite his enemies. Careful Zack, this one bites. Trying to calm himself down, Worf made himself listen to the man's excuse, frowning and hating his bad attitude. The insults only drove the Klingon on to become even more angry. Using a Klingon word against a Klingon and you were not one? A big insult indeed.

"You do not even know what the word means! You insult me and the whole Nexus with your cowardly behaviour. You have no honour!"

Would the man seek a duel? Worf was totally ready to draw blades with this fool if it became more heated. The donut vendor stepping in. A refugee? More like a vagabond who sought to take things for himself. Turning to the vendor, Worf glowered back at the thief but nodded.

"You are a refugee, thief?"

[ablacksun]

A little weary of saying he doesn't even know what the words stealing or thief mean, Zack's shoulders droop some.

"Honour's for demons making their bargains. The rest of us just take what we find and fight to keep it." It's clear he hasn't the foggiest idea of how not to irritate a Klingon.

"There's eff-all food where I'm from," he tells them both. "I dunno what I am. Apart from lost.

It's clear the vendor feels rather awkward about the whole thing. "Just... pay me back when you can, okay? I gotta get back to my stand. My 13-year-old kid's watching it for me."

[sonof_mogh]

"That is not my problem that you have no food where you come from. Nor is it the vendor's. Stealing is a crime from where I come from and here too in the Nexus. You would do well to abide by the rules unless you seek everyone to hate you here."

Worf was already irked by this guy's blatant blase attitude. A thief and a rude one at that. If he was lost and confused then perhaps he should have read his pamphlet. Everyone got one.

"Will you be alright now, sir?"

Addressing the vendor, the Klingon wanted to make sure he would have enough money to pay for his family, especially his young child. This----urchin? He had already caused enough trouble for the vendor and the Klingon so far this day. Turning back to the thief, Worf just gave a irritated stare.

"As for you? What is your name?"

[ablacksun]

It's not usually Zack's problem if mortals don't like this or that. Or that there are rules. He normally has demons to worry about, and they get really stroppy. But he doesn't know where the door back home has gone, and he might do well to at least fall in line until he can get away.

"Yes. yes, I'll be fine thank you." The vendor seems keen to scuttle away. Zack doesn't blame him for that. He's thinking of doing the same but the ...whoever-he-is, is now staring at him.

"I'm Zack," he tells the irritable stranger. "What's yours?"

[sonof_mogh]

"I am Worf, son of Mogh. Klingon."

Worf made the last word stronger since he wanted to get across to the thief---to Zack that he was a warrior and had honour. So far this man showed that he was neither of the two. Thieves were cowards and Worf despised them. Yet, the vendor assumed he was some sort of runaway or refugee. Perhaps. It did not excuse his behaviour though.

"Where are you from and why did you feel the need to steal?"

These were questions Worf demanded to know.

[ablacksun]

Zack is as ignorant as the day is long, and has been deliberately kept that way.

That Worf is from a warrior race though, seems clear to him. And he's intelligent enough to reason that many warrior types do have their own codes of conduct. (Honour is an alien concept to Zack.) Maybe Worf is even some kind of imperial guard, or someone who has authority here. Zack doesn't like being spoken to the way Worf is speaking, but he is used to it. So now he's wavering between being playing the uppity prince of hell, or being more obedient.

He's a long way from home, so he opts for the latter.

"I'm from Antillioch, it's a hell dimension. We don't have the same rules as what you do here. I'm just hungry." Really, terribly, hungry. He surveys Worf, son of Mogh, and rubs the back of his head, confused and trying to work things out. "What's a Klingon then?"