Interacting with [@Sovi3t]
[hr]
Nikita's eyes fell back to the security team trailing him. 'Twas an expected outcome. They don't know when they're being helped until they've punished the person helping them. The ship's being attacked, but who knows... this one doctor might be an alien or some foolish thing like that. Nikita grimaced and shook his head, slowly walking towards one of the safe areas, a clandestine twinkle in his eye betraying not a single emotion whatsoever. For he felt no fear, and should they feel any... it would be a shame to think so, anyhow...

The Russian felt through his bag to pull out the mask. Such a simple thing to get chased for. It's like the mask were, as it were, a mask over him, to present an image of this doctor suffering from sociopathic tendencies. What...! This mask was meant to help, to calm... Such is the case with these things... was the guillotine meant to deserve such a macabre connotation? No, of course not. 'Twas the most humane invention of its time, and one of the most unbiased. The blindest blade, for sure.

There they were, looking for him. That Lieutenant there... must be the leader of that particular squad. He was a right good fellow to be doing his job. Must be so proud of himself, chasing down someone with whom he has no quarrel. Ah! Morality! That's it... you dropped them with a lack of morality. Nikita sighed and replaced the mask in his satchel, noticing that a few people were eyeing him warily. 

"Shouldn't use it so much," Nikita growled to himself, thinking of the still bodies probably waking from the sedative about now. (That is the other thing about this Tetraoxidine Diphosphate... it works well, but it worked only as long as it needs to... Nikita laughed.) He walked towards a woman sitting ramrod stiff on a bench, staring at the heavens as she quavered, waiting to be blown into oblivion. Sitting down next to her--and startling her in the process--Nikita offered her the mask. Much to his surprise, she took it and gratefully inhaled the sleeping gas. She fell into his lap, her head making a gentle thump against his leg as she landed. Picking her small form into his arms, Nikita carried her to the safe area, placing her on a cot. Sitting down a chair next to the bed, he stared into this woman's face. 'Twas not a beautiful face--flawed as it were--but in it he saw a truer beauty, that one last golden glimmer: hope.

He let the people gather in a circle around him, some petitioning to have some of the gas. He made sure he lowered the dosage to merely calm their nerves rather than render them unconscious, and soon the entire area was silent, listening to the distant shouts of the security teams outside. The place was calm and at the same time hopeful. They had feeling, and at the same time felt no pain nor fear. Nikita himself took a small inhalation and immediately was bathed in a warmth that caused his heart to rise in his chest. A smile came to his lips; 'twas a synthetic happiness, but a happiness present was a happiness existed.

Nikita stood slowly, making his way through the crowd to the entrance, watching the security team slowly make its way up towards him. Looking back at the crowd, all of whom were cognizant of their situation and yet still at peace, Nikita sighed again before walking towards the team, eyes boring into the Lieutenant. Raising his hands behind the back of his head, he moved forward, the pain in his ankle returning as he started to stumble.

"Sir... I believe you want me... no?" He spoke, a gravel sound pitching from his parted lips.