thisavrou_log | ( april event log )

Entry tags:

( april event log )

Who: Everyone
When: April 14th and on
Where: The Moira + Del Pascia
What: The prison isn't all that contained after all.
Warnings: For the (sort of) undead, possible violence, and nudity. Please label your content!

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revive the risk
"Big things have small beginnings."

Things have been going relatively well for the crew of the Moira thus far despite their current circumstances. With D-E-L’s help, many supplies have already been gathered, and those with the necessary components have begun making much needed repairs. Yet, things aren’t as peaceful on Del Pascia as they might have seemed.

The resident facility AI has slowly started growing more and more unresponsive to questions, often answering in rather irritated tones and short, snippy answers. Still, no system glitches appear across the prison except for one minor detail: random doors and hallways suddenly lock and close for no reason and don’t open again for varying amounts of time—ranging from minutes to hours. Does this have anything to do with the unsettling feeling some crew members have experienced since stepping foot onto Del Pascia? Or is there a simple explanation that can be easily chalked up to as an accident?

☄ DECONTAMINATION #2 ( 04.14 - 04.17 )

On the Moira, crew come and go without much hassle. They take a transporter to planets and moons and back again without any fuss... Until today. All crew that try to reboard the Moira coming back from Del Pascia will be denied access, a warning flashing on their MID - Decontamination Required for Entry. It’s a protocol that hasn’t been enacted before, and the MID offers no explanation as to why it is now. The transporter will seal and then be permitted to dock in the Cargo Bay, where the procedure will begin. All crew on the transporter have to dispose of their clothing by placing it inside hazardous waste bags located in a compartment near the front of the craft. After all clothing is stored, a gas-like substance will fill the transporter, breathable yet tasteless, and once it dissipates, crew will be free to go.

Other crew members will be waiting in the cargo bay with clothing and blankets, per the captain’s instruction, but no clear explanation will be given for this sudden new protocol aside from “potential health risks”.

☄ D.ON'T E.VER L.EAVE ( 04.18 - 04.23 )

After the decontamination procedures for the Moira go off, the captains issue a ship-wide alert to let the crew know that the ship is picking up on something inside each person that boarded the space station. It is speculated that the crew came in contact with an unknown biological contaminant either during the station’s decontamination procedure or sometime after. At this point, they aren’t aware of what will happen to those that are carrying the contaminant, and the captains ask for anybody with experience to head to the Medbay to begin testing. Crew don’t appear to be in any danger, so they are allowed to continue gathering materials and supplies on board the space station at their discretion. (Every time they come and go, they will be made to go through the procedure described above).

Any crew remaining on Del Pascia will find that D-E-L is more vocal than ever before. It is answering questions, as well as trying to convince crew members to abandon the Moira and take up permanent residence aboard the space station.

☄ FEAR ME, LOVE ME, DO AS I SAY ( 04.24 - 04.28 )

Like most unfortunate things, it seems everything happens all at once.The noises you heard, a step falling moments after yours or a rattle coming from the vents, become louder. You can’t place where they are coming from at first. You turn, you follow, but the search yields no results. And then, without any warning, it’s crystal clear as “they” begin to creep and move from within the shadows and ruined sections of Del Pascia: the prisoners and workers said to have been relocated by D-E-L. Their voice is one, regardless of how many gather, and they tell you, “You can be happy here” and “I can make you better” shortly after.

Worse than the way they speak in unison is the way they look. Mutated and deformed, their prison uniforms are in tatters and covered in various levels of the same blood that the crew has experienced during their time on Del Pascia while visiting the prison blocks. They don’t attack to kill; they only try to detain, to drag crew members further into the station and are methodical and precise in how they do this as if they’re being controlled by something greater and much smarter than them.

To those that fight, D-E-L’s voice will call out, telling the Moiran not to struggle, to stay here and be safe, be better. The AI explains that life there on Del Pascia is easy, peaceful, and nobody will cause you pain. Suffering is a thing of the past and loneliness is something you’ll never know again. The prisoners follow the command of the AI, its voice falling from their lips. D-E-L claims they feel no pain, no hunger. They are united in one purpose and are therefore free of all strife. Wouldn’t it be nice to be free like that?

As always, fearing for the safety of the crew (and despite the disrepair of the Moira from events prior), the captains ask for all those capable to assist with extracting those aboard Del Pascia as quickly as possible before D-E-L tries to lock them inside. Running, after all, is better than dying, and it’s certainly something everyone aboard the Moira has gotten quite good at.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Once the decontamination protocol started to be enforced Trish stayed right the hell away from the space station because while she does her part to keep the ship running she's not going to risk picking up some freaky space disease just to gather up some junk that may or may not be useful. It's not like she can tell spare parts from utter trash most of the time anyway.

But then all hell breaks loose and intellectually she knows that there are so many crew members more suited to dealing with it than she is, but she can't just sit around and wait for others to deal with it when people are in danger out there and maybe she could do something to help!

One of these days she'll have to deal with her hero complex but today is not that day.

Today is the day when she ends up in deep, deep shit because while she is a good fighter there is literally nothing she can do against people who don't feel pain. Nothing at all.

So instead she screams, partly because she needs help and partly to just block out that fucking computer. ]

Help! Help me! I'm here, help!

[ She wouldn't even need to scream. The Hulk's hearing is extremely sharp and sensitive, and while most times that's a source of annoyance and fuel for further anger to the beast, at times like this it comes in handy. He can hear anyone in distress, and if not he just follows the voices in perfect unison of the prisoners and workers of the facility.

So when Trish is screaming, the Hulk's already on his way. She might be a little too busy trying to fend off the horde to notice how the ground shakes a little the closer he gets, but it doesn't really matter because a few seconds later, he's tearing his way through the wall with his bare hands, the metal posing no obstacle to him whatsoever.

He runs over to where the horde is closing in around Trish, a swift kick immediately sending a number of them flying through the air. His hands follow, grabbing some of them at once and throwing them aside, finally picking at the last few still clinging to Trish's arms and hands, then he pretty much places himself between her and the encroaching group, roaring loudly at them, more than ready to take them all on and act as a shield— whether she likes it or not, she clearly needs it. ]

[ The relief is instant when the prisoners are torn away from her, followed by a sharp moment of mild panic before the Hulk takes a protective stance between her and her attackers and she cycles back to relief. Seems like Bruce is the one behind the wheel this time.

Or maybe the Hulk just likes her.

Either way, she's glad he's here. ]

Let's get out of this shithole!

[ Maybe it's a mix of both. Even when Bruce is in control, it's always the Hulk there, and how he feels about some people tends to shine through. He whips his head around a little roughly when she speaks, eyes focusing on her, then he offers a grunt and a twitch of his head that comes almost close to a nod.

He waits, though, letting her take the lead in going back through the path he tore through the walls, keeping himself between her and the group, just in case they're quick enough to catch up to them. ]

Nice entrance, you sure know how to make a first impression.

[ She clambers through the hole he made, talking mostly to distract herself from the fact that she is currently trapped in a space station full of weird invulnerable zombies, and her only hope of survival rests with an unpredictable rage beast. ]

[ Oh, she's a talker. The Hulk isn't entirely sure he likes that, but her voice is far nicer than the AI droning on and on about something he doesn't even bother trying to understand, or the monotone of voices dragging behind them. Following them already even though the Hulk had so forcefully shoved them away only moments ago.

He huffs, a sound closer to a growl than anything, and he debates on whether to say anything at all for a few seconds. ]

Hulk, help.

[ She is startled when the Hulk decides to speak to her, visibly twitching as she makes her way down the hallway at a brisk walk, conserving her energy in case she'll need a quick burst of speed later on. She's not in that much immediate danger right now after all, with the Hulk himself escorting her. ]

You did. Thank you. Do you know the way out? I got a bit lost trying to get away from those things.

[ He can probably just make them a way out, really. ]

[ He can, but it would still take a while longer than following through the already created path. On the other hand, he didn't exactly come straight from the transporters to here, so it might just be quicker if he creates a new path. It's not like any of them care about keeping the facility intact, so long as he doesn't punch through the hull or shut down life support.

So when she asks about a way out, he stops instead of leading her through the hole on the wall nearest to them. His eyelids lower and he focuses on his hearing, tuning out the voices and zoning in on the mechanisms and, most importantly, the engines of the transporters, with their own unique signature vibrating across the structure.

Finally, he turns to the side and punches through a different wall, tearing the metal apart just enough that both he and Trish can get through. Looking over his shoulder to make sure the group isn't anywhere near her, he steps through, and makes another new hole through the wall right ahead. ]

[ She can't help it, she has to let out a quiet snort of laughter. ]

You're pretty handy to have around.

[ The direct approach honestly reminds her a little bit of Jessica. She'll have to tell her sister that when she gets out of this mess. And once Jessica stops berating her for going to the station in the first place when she knew it would be dangerous. ]

[ The laughter surprises him, and he actually stops to look at her, almost confused. It's not a sound he tends to hear much, or even at all. People don't exactly find humor in having a giant green monster this near them, especially in what's already a dangerous situation in and of itself, as is the case right now.

He just grunts at her this time, continuing to create a new path for them, stopping once or twice on the way just to make sure they're headed in the right direction, not listening quite as attentively to the voices now, when he's feeling confident enough that they lost them. Either that, or they just gave up. ]

[ It's a coping mechanism, sort of borrowed from Jessica's habit of turning everything into scathing sarcasm. Everything she knows about bravery tends to come back to her sister one way or another, really.

The Hulk is a little hard to keep up with, for obvious reasons, and while she is making her way through one hole he is already through the next, which is when she is suddenly tugged back, an arm closing over her throat, hands gripping her arms, dragging her along. Where the hell did they come from? ]

Hulk!

[ The sounds of the group and Trish's voice all come at once. He turns around almost instantly, reflexes kicking in before he's even fully processing what's happening. One foot raising above her, it comes down on top of the group, either crushing them or forcing them to step back. A hand swats at one that's closer to her and gripping at her shoulder, forcefully shoving them away, but more keep coming, clinging to the Hulk's leg and trying to climb up on him like they're mad or possessed— or both.

Swiftly, he uses that same hand to scoop her up from the ground, no time to warn her beforehand, shoving away the last few still holding onto her in the process. ]

Hulk carry!

[ With what he considers a proper announcement, he kicks away the prisoners and workers clinging to his leg, then promptly turns around to go through the hole he'd made just moments ago, faster this time. He can't risk them catching up again.

Better hold on tight, because it's gonna be a bumpy ride. ]

[ If her choice is between a pair of big, blood spattered arms keeping her safe and several pairs of smaller blood spattered arms tearing her apart she is definitely going to go with the protective gore, even though it is only just now registering with her just how much of it there is on Hulk.

Poor Bruce. The thought flickers through her mind as she wraps her arms around the Hulk's neck and curls up in a ball in his grasp, making herself as small as she possibly can. ]

[ Bruce knows the blood is there already, and he also knows why. At least as the Hulk that thought isn't too present, and the monster himself isn't aware of what she can see. Even if he were, he wouldn't really care much.

With one hand holding her close, opening new passageways is a little slower, but at least he can cross rooms or go down long hallways in a much faster pace, even running when he knows he has the room to do it somewhat safely. After a few minutes, he walks through a hole to find a row of others already made, and following his ear he figures they'll take them right to the transporters.

He lets out a sound akin to relief, then takes off through those holes, running again now, only slowing down when he needs to squeeze through a more oddly shaped passage without getting her hurt. ]

[ Seems like it's her fucking fate or something to always have people stronger than her getting her out of dangerous situations. She hates it. This time she can't blame anyone but herself of course, but she still wishes with every cell in her body that she could get to do the saving just once in a while, or that she at least could save herself.

It's amazing, really, how relatively gentle the Hulk is with her, the care he takes to make sure that she isn't hurt as they make their way toward the transporters. There's more to the big guy than people think, she decides. More than Bruce thinks.

She closes her eyes and presses herself tightly against the Hulk, hanging on for dear life and praying to no one in particular that he won't suddenly for some hulky reason decide that he would rather smash her into a wall than keep her safe. ]

[ He won't, and Bruce is sure enough of it that he lets this happen. If there were any risk that the Hulk would just snap, he'd have set Trish down and let her go back on her own, simply following behind to be sure she wouldn't get attacked, rather than letting the Hulk carry her all the way there himself.

The AI's voice turns into a distant echo the closer they get to the transporters, the sound of their engines loud. There, they don't find anyone, neither prisoners or workers, nor crew members from the Moira. Carefully, he sets her down just near the ramp. The transporter is large, but certainly not large enough for him, not until he turns back to Bruce— and besides, it was never his plan to go back to the Moira with her. He still has other people to get out of here. ]

Go. [ He struggles a little with the words, like he does with most everything he says, as if he's not entirely capable of speech. He shakes his head, a big hand gesturing vaguely at the inside of the transporter. ] Hulk stay.

Before I go, could you bend down a little?

[ She doesn't really expect him to actually do it, because why would he, but it's worth a shot. ]

So your face is a little more on my level, I mean.

[ It's a strange request, and as with everything, it takes him a moment to understand it, and then to figure out if she means what he thinks she means. Surprising to her or not, he does as she asks, lowering himself onto his knees and leaning forward.

She wanted him at eye level? Well, she has him at eye level. Hopefully she won't be scared of having the Hulk this close to her face, so close that she can see the bright green mixed with faint traces of brown in his eyes. ]

[ It's a poweful thing, to have a giant kneel at her request. She's not scared, not right now. Maybe he will frighten her again somewhere down the line, but in this moment the Hulk doesn't feel the least bit like a threat.

Carefully she cradles that big face in her hands, and she leans closer still to kiss him on both cheeks, briefly touching his forehead with her own. ]

Thank you.

[ Kindness isn't something the Hulk's used to, and he's rarely ever on the receiving end of a gentle touch. When she cradles his face, he closes his eyes, and for a moment memories of someone else entirely flood his mind. Brief, flickering— Trish isn't the same person, he realizes, but oddly enough the sentiment is very close.

There's no green in his eyes when he opens them again. They're brown just like Bruce's, and one of his large hands lifts up, a finger lightly ghosting her hair. It's little more than a second, then he blinks again, shakes his head and forces himself onto his feet.

It's too soon to go back to normal, he's not done yet. He lets out a grunt and waits for her to get into the transporter, turning around and stepping through the hole in the wall again. ]

[ Trish doesn't really want company when she gets back to the Moira, so she makes her way to Bruce's room rather than her own. She more or less lives there now anyway, though it hasn't been officially discussed yet. She takes a shower to try to get the feeling of the prisoners' hands off her skin, and borrows a t-shirt and sweatpants from Bruce. He won't mind, she's sure.

She isn't sure why the photo album catches her eye, maybe because it's similar to the one she got in the mail herself.

Curiosity makes her take it down, and she carries it over to the bed. The first thing that happens when she opens it, is that a couple of pictures fall out. She picks them up, frowning when she sees that they are of her. How the hell did they end up in there?

Shaking her head, she puts the loose pictures away on the nightstand and starts to turn pages, smiling as she sees pictures of Baby Bruce and his mother. She hopes he won't mind her looking, she is just so charmed by getting to see all these Bruces she never got to meet.

Then of course there are the pictures of him and Betty, which is the point where she decides to close the album.

There is some regular old jealousy in what she feels in that moment for sure, but what really gets to her is that whoever that beautiful, smiling woman is, and whatever happened to make her no longer play that part in his life... what they had can't be erased. It will be with Bruce forever.

Trish has already been wiped from his life once, he lived a whole year with no thought of her entering his mind.

Banner the kitten comes to butt his head against her hand, and she slides down under the covers and curls up, petting him until eventually she drifts into a restless sort of sleep. ]

[ It's a while before the Hulk turns back to Bruce, and Bruce himself finally goes back to the ship. He's tired but there's also a sense of accomplishment there, that he managed to help out without losing control or things going sour. Everything went exactly as according to plan, and that's a feeling he doesn't often get, but always appreciates.

He goes back to his room for a shower and a change of clothes, fully planning on finding Trish once he's out of the loose-fitting sweatshirt and pants he has on right now. But it seems like she's found him instead, and when he steps into the room and notices a human-sized lump on his bed, he doesn't even ask if it's her. He knows.

Rounding the bed, he sits by the edge, catching the album resting over the covers at the corner of his eye but ignoring it in favor of stroking her hair, slowly leaning down to press a kiss to her temple. ]

[ She wasn't sleeping very deeply, so his tender gesture is enough to drag her out of her flimsy dreams. She blinks a few times, letting out a sleepy little noise as she wipes the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. Jesus, was she drooling? Please say it isn't so. ]

Hi.

[ She kind of was, yes. But for what it's worth, Bruce thinks it's cute rather than anything else. He smiles at the lazy greeting, his hand sinking to the mattress next to her. ]

Hey, sleepyhead.

[ The little ball of fur curled up against her shifts, and Bruce glances down, then back up. ]

I see I'm a little late for the cuddling party.

[ She would say that he only thinks that because he's a little stupid from "we just started dating" mushy feelings.

She looks down at the kitten too, and then smiles up at Bruce. ]

Shit, I told him to go hide in the closet if you got home. Guess we're busted.

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