day 243 :: backdated :: closed
It had been a simple plan, but a plan that worked quite well as Locutus, while seemingly malfunctioning, still thought himself superior to the ones offering to assist him. The other Borg within the dome having left, a hole inside of him once again void of the Collective, even a stunted Collective. They had lured him with the human doctor, offering the alcove of the former Drone designation Seven of Nine in assistance in repairing him. If there was anything he knew of the humans, they would not bring more harm to this body as they were primarily sentimental creatures. And mostly, it was the use of the Borg tech that had made the decision for him.
Once there, he had slipped easily into the alcove, trusting the Starfleet officers and the human woman to use the tech as it was intended, rather than to somehow use it against him. But as he felt that other consciousness begin to gain in strength and seep through the cracks, he began to struggle, had to be restrained until everything seemed to go black and he felt the steady arms of the android and the blind malfunctioning human catch him before he crumbled to the floor.
Jean-Luc was awake, barely lucid at the moment as he felt the shift in consciousness inside his mind. The freedom to roam, so to speak, he fought his way out, tearing at mental walls and clawing at psychological floors to come back. His chest hurt. His mechanical heart that had suddenly failed him, forcing the other tech inside to turn on him. His face hurt where Locutus had clawed at his skin. His mind felt as if it had been turned inside out, dissected and traumatized to the point that he could barely think straight.
But there was some familiarity here as his eyes barely opened, blinking into a light too bright. His eyes, Jean-Luc’s eyes, worried and tired, questioning in a human way rather than the detached way of the Borg. Locutus was not there anymore.