Conall suspended his viewing of the Epsilon-1 security footage immediately after he'd - after his - his
lapse in behaviour
. It was just
inappropriate.
Even if nobody knew except him, it was a matter of principle.
He had meant for that to be the end of it, after realising exactly how far in over his head he'd gotten, but... He worried at the thought of leaving things unfinished like it was a hangnail. He'd never discovered how the ventilation system was contaminated, nor had he found out what Eon had done during the containment breach or how they had ended up getting turned into a metahuman despite being one of Orpheus' best site directors.
A few weeks of fretting later, he conceded that he needed to check those last two things before he could feel he'd done his due diligence and then put the whole sordid incident behind him.
To that end, Conall had managed to get himself a copy of the Epsilon-1 floor plan with all the services marked out on it, ventilation ducts included. Viewing footage without a clear purpose was how he had gotten sucked in before, and he wasn't doing it again. Before he would even let himself think of looking at the videos, he was going to identify the air intakes for the ventilation around the break room he had been watching.
Admittedly it took him a while to figure out how to read the blueprints properly, but once he did, he only had a few locations to check rather than trying to watch every goddamn video from the surrounding floor and falling into the same trap as he had before. It took another while to figure out exactly how the floor plans corresponded to the security videos, to minimise the amount of footage he was watching, but once he did - it wasn't long until he discovered the probable cause of the vents being contaminated, at the third location he'd marked off.
It was bees.
A group of fae bee people were all crowded around one of the air intakes fucking each other and masturbating and dripping honey-like stuff everywhere. They were even starting to build honeycomb structures or at least the ones who weren't too busy having the stickiest, messiest sex in the world were. Various plants had burst through the floor and walls as well and were starting to flower, as if to provide the appropriate environment for the bees.
Conall noticed how the fae seemed to be beating their wings intentionally in front of the air intake vent and frowned. How the hell was he going to come up with a solution to avoid that happening? Probably nothing would be foolproof enough, short of insisting that all air was to be taken in from outside without recirculating any of the air from indoors, and he had no idea if it was even possible to set the ventilation up like that. Or how much it would cost to change... He audibly whimpered at the thought of making that kind of expense request and how to justify it.
At the very least he had the answer to one of the things bothering him, even if he had barely any idea what to do with the knowledge now he had it. For the other thing... What
had
happened to Eon?
Finding the security recording of Eon's office was relatively simple. They were in their office as well, at the time. However they might look now, in the recording they were as Conall remembered - their asymmetrical, dyed-purple hair with an undercut on one side, brown skin unadorned save for dramatic eyeliner and even more dramatic lipstick, sharply dressed, and with those eyes that seemed to pierce right through you. Not that Conall had been staring at them during site director meetings or anything. He simply admired the courage they had to be openly queer and non-conformist in a role like site director. Even if Orpheus was an accepting place to work, somehow Conall had fallen into dressing like a stern teacher whose only concession to personality was his choice of tie. So - he admired them. Or, he had.
Conall fast-forwarded to the time when the containment breach had begun in the previous videos. When the onsite communications networks went down, Eon went through a number of troubleshooting steps before taking their mobile out and trying to call the IT department, then the various site section heads when IT weren't picking up, and then finally got through to one who told them what was going on. They cursed loudly, stood up, and then strode calmly to their office door and locked it. After a moment they started pushing the closest furniture in front of the door.
Then they were locked in their own office from the inside, which - was not what Conall was expecting. How do you turn into a metahuman in a locked room with zero personal contact with others? Conall chewed on his lower lip as he wondered about that.
With the room secured Eon launched into phoning whoever they could, a series of short serious conversations which made Conall queasy to think about having to carry out if he was in their situation. Eon was remarkably cool-headed considering the circumstances. Only when they were done with their calls and with firing off text messages to those who hadn't picked up did they sit down at their desk and put their head in their hands.
Fast-forwarding through the video, he saw Eon spend the majority of their time phoning or texting, doing what they could to respond to the security breach remotely. They tried their computer again, and from the angle the security camera had been recording at, he could see their deep frown and the crease between their eyebrows. Conall stopped, rewound a minute and pressed play at regular speed. They said something to themself that struck Conall as odd.
"Why is the security feed working? It should be down like everything else." Why indeed. That didn't really make sense, if the video feed was transmitted over the organisational intranet like everything else.
The rest of the footage was uneventful for quite some time. Eon checked their phone whenever a notification arrived, looking more concerned and resigned over time. Between messages they seemed to be watching the various security feeds, now and then making handwritten notes. Conall found the parallel to
him
watching
them
and taking notes unsettling.
Skipping forward again, he noticed the rate of messages they were receiving slowed down considerably, almost to a stop. Then they started making an odd, unreadable expression over some of the messages. Half an hour later, Eon closed their laptop and walked around the room a few times before stopping in front of their locked door. They simply stood there for several minutes, staring at the door. Then they went back to their desk, to their phone and messages, to their laptop and note-taking. Their mobile dinged incessantly with notifications.
Honestly Conall couldn't guess what was going on either in the messages or in Eon's head, but the resignation as they slumped back in their chair and covered their face with their hands was only too clear.
When he went forward another half hour, he couldn't tell what they were doing. The camera angle showed their face and upper body, and the rest was hidden beneath the desk including their hands. Eon was halfway slumped atop the desk, their eyes hooded as they watched whatever was on the laptop, mouth slightly open. It was only when they made a sound that Conall understood what was going on.
Eon was
masturbating
at their desk in the middle of the security breach.
Conall stopped the video and closed the tab, his face burning. Confused and appalled thoughts crashed into each other in a mile-long pileup.
What were they doing? Actually he knew
what
. But.
Why
were they doing it? At their desk, in their office, in the midst of their site falling apart around them, they had done
that
.
There was no way Conall was going back to watch more to try and make sense of it. There was just no way. What he had seen was inappropriate enough. The image of Eon's expression had already lodged in his memory the moment he understood what he was seeing.
Anything that happened after would have to remain a mystery. He was
done
with those videos.
-
Belatedly, a week later, he realised he should at least thank Eon for access to the recordings again now that he was finished with them. Writing the email was extremely awkward and he couldn't help reflecting on the fact that he had apparently known even less about Eon as a person than he'd thought, but Conall had been raised to have manners and he
had
gotten a few valuable insights from the videos. Just not the last one he had watched.
So he wrote a somewhat impersonal thank-you email saying he was finished with the videos and had gotten some useful information from them, just not which information that was. There. Sent. His obligation was fulfilled.
He had no clue how to respond to the conversation they'd been having, however. Every time he tried, his mind flashed back to Eon at the desk and he couldn't organise his thoughts to at all come up with a thing to say about music or movies or travel or anything else. Still, he didn't want to abandon it altogether, even if he almost certainly should. He settled for a short, 'hopefully now I am finished with the security footage, I should have time to watch some of the movies you've been recommending'. Eon wouldn't pass up the chance to enthuse about films. Then he could put the whole security footage topic behind him and everything would go back to normal.
-
"Good afternoon, Director."
Conall looked up at the sudden voice. Then he dropped his pen on the table, words failing to escape his mouth for far too long.
"Director... Santos...?" Even as he said it, he shook himself and blinked as if that would banish the figure at the door. Despite that, they were still there when he looked again, an amused expression on their face which was incidentally the same exact face he had so recently seen in a certain video, and his face went hot when he remembered that and it didn't help
at all
in either comprehending what was going on or responding with anything other than confused gibbering.
"Please, just call me Eon. I told you before, there's no need to be so formal. I'm not a site director anymore, after all."
Eon took a step away from the door and further into the room and thankfully then at least part of Conall's brain reasserted itself and he stood up at his desk and reached for his frankly archaic desk phone with his finger poised over the speed dial for security. Eon saw this and halted, giving him time to speak.
"Excuse me, but why are you in my office? How did you get into my office? Not to be rude, but unless you give me a very good reason I will have to call security."
A far-off part of Conall's thought processes observed that Eon looked like they were trying not to laugh at that threat. The rest was preoccupied with hovering over the speed dial.
"Has anyone ever followed 'not to be rude' with something that wasn't rude? To answer your second question, that is a secret." They winked at him. "To answer your first... I thought you might have questions."
"About what?" He looked at them suspiciously.
