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deep in the murk
"It comes first and follows after. Ends life, kills laughter."
With the outcome of the battle against the Caducans and the Moira having twisted together with their ship to form a strange combination of glass, metal, and organic parts (both across the ship and among the crewmembers), there is still the matter of the Ingress not functioning “properly”. It hasn’t worked correctly since the very first person arrived on the Moira through it, and there is little the Captains themselves know about its functions. However, now, more than before, it’s even worse than that. The Ingress malfunctions yet again. This time, though, it doesn’t simply combine time and space and objects around it—it encompasses the entirety of the ship and sends it far off into a completely different universe. Welcome to:
( click text for a rough map/layout )This puts the Moira closer to its final destination, and most of the glass has disappeared as the Caducan ship has been left behind aside from small things here and there (i.e., some of the walls in the corridors, random furniture in the rooming decks, the rooms themselves). Even the mess hall has permanently changed. Yet, there is some bad news that comes with this transition. The universe the ship is in is so terrible that it has been given its own name so that travelers avoid it altogether. Even the Captains themselves are aware of just how Bad News this universe is and had originally planned to take “the long way around” to avoid it. Anything shady or unsavory can be found in the Runoff, and while it might not appeal to the majority, it is simply second-nature to those who inhabit it. From arms trafficking to drugs, whatever one might think is illegal somewhere else is suddenly very legal and very dangerous.
Through the transition, some of the crew will accidentally end up on a nearby outpost specifically used for slave trade. It is a covered, temporary establishment used only for this purpose, meaning there are no open markets, hotels, or businesses of any sort. Stalls and tents line dirty streets, and ships litter the space around the outpost. This is a slave trade zone. People come and go but do not stay. Various lifeforms can be found here, and there are many different forms of slave trade happening. The motto “honor among thieves” does not exist in this place either. Crew who end up here will be “free”; however, this means that there is the potential to be taken and sold or kept by those of the Runoff. The Moira will not be close to this outpost, but the signals given from their MIDs will alert the crew to their location. Rescue, obviously, is imminent, but those who choose to help their fellow crewmembers must keep to small stealth missions using transporters or other crafts with one important detail in mind: they cannot bring attention or notice to the Moira itself.
Almost one-third of the crew has found themselves on the slave trade outpost, leaving the rest to plan for rescue. The Captains will immediately divulge all information that they have about the outpost, which is unfortunately very little outside of the stigma associated with the Runoff. The Captains will ask any MID techs or those with skills to create a program that allows person to person location; this function will allow crewmembers to search for those on the outpost via their MIDs. Rescue efforts are encouraged, and all the ships and transporters in the cargo bay will be available for public use. Crew will be told to be careful and quiet, bringing no attention to the Moira’s location, and most importantly, do not stand out. If crew look and act like they don’t belong there, others will notice. Stealth is the name of the game, and blending in is a necessity. ☄ time goes by slowly The unfortunate crewmembers who ended up on the outpost have now found themselves pursued by those looking to make a profit through slave trade. The standards of hard labor vary from owner to owner, but it is what it sounds like. Rough, hard work that will last as long as the body performing it can endure. If purchased, owners might examine their new property to determine what type of work they’d be best suited for and then split them up into holding areas until they are done with their purchases. Others might have their slaves begin work by cleaning their ship or holding stalls or packing up their tents and gear. The owners, and their needs, are as varied as the universe. Did you manage to escape? Or were you forced to work before you were rescued? ☄ and it seems to last forever Like the crewmembers taken by general labor owners, the murdersport slavers buy and take whomever they believe can last the longest in the pit. Some take those who appear to be strong or have great stamina, and some take those who are light on their feet or are quick-witted. Some crew are chosen simply based on appearance and how good they’ll look in their gear. If pursued, the slavers will do everything they can to capture the Moirans, and if captured, crew might be taken to a holding stall or a testing pit so that their skills can be witnessed by the public and tested. Some slavers want to show off their new property by throwing them into small roped off areas with other slaves, various creatures, or machines. Some make them stand up in front of groups and simply show them off, boasting that, at the next big event in the Runoff, they’ll surely win the grand prize. What kind of slaver has taken you? Will you be forced to fight before you rescue? Or will you not make it to the Moira before the Ingress pulls you back? ☄ but then it starts to fly ( cw: sex ) As is typical of this universe, slave trade comes in various forms. The most notorious being its illustrious sex trade. Slaves are bought and sold quickly and often, with no notable preference for appearance or species. Buyers come from all over to find slaves to work in their brothels, for personal use, as in-house entertainment, and much more. While the other two most popular type of slave trade don’t care as much about the physical well being of their property, these specific owners usually do. They might try to incapacitate first, so that the slaves aren’t bruised or cut, and if necessary, use binds until they can get them back to their ships or holding stalls. Some owners have their slaves cleaned and dressed in the finest attire, while others shove them into uniforms and tossed into stalls. Were you captured? Did you escape? Or were you rescued before something untoward occurred? What's more, events of the past always have a way of coming back to haunt you.
Months past, a monster terrorized the crew and left a very literal mark upon those that it touched. Those scarred by encounters with the Ploiatos will find their minds drifting as they work and go about their day. They may also find themselves in a different part of the ship than intended when they come back to themselves. It happens slowly, these small moments of lost time. But both before and after these events occur, one might notice that the scars seem to shift slightly. Where the patterns have been stable for months, suddenly the branching arms of the scars appear to be in a slightly different position than before. More often than not, those who lose time will regain awareness and find themselves in Navigation. When this happens, oftentimes Captain Manasseh will herd them out with a quiet, but undeniably firm, suggestion to visit the infirmary. More unsettling are the moments when they awaken in the I.L.R. standing outside the one door that should never be opened. As for those who were lucky enough to avoid encounters with the creature locked within, they must figure out how to deal with their friends and fellow crew who seem to walk around in a fog with no control of their actions.
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thisavrou_log2016-07-19 01:11 am
Liquid Snake | ota | violence and the like
Liquid has no goddamn idea where he is.
The MID isn't much help, since it only seems to map out the ship. So he's wandering around, looking at everything in hopes of figuring a thing or two out.
The delicate-looking glass of his arm still remains, and isn't delicate in the least, especially not with the reinforcements it's received thanks to the medbay being ready to fix the issues.
"Alright, so... where the hell are we?"
He might also be trying to contact people on the MID to see if they can shed any light on the situation.
[2. LOCK THE TARGET, BAIT THE LINE, SPREAD THE NET, THEN CATCH THE MAN (getting captured)]
It becomes increasingly obvious that something's off on this little outpost. And especially obvious once, while he's slightly distracted trying to contact people, he just gets straight up captured. Oh, sure, he tried to fight back, but they must have had some really advanced technology, because he was taken all the same. How could this happen to him? He should have been better at fighting, should have been paying attention, should have been... well, it's pointless now.
They toss him into a temporary cell with more people, and it's kind of embarrassing how much he struggles without actually getting anywhere. Sure, these restraints might be higher-tech and more complicated than things he's used to, but damn, can't he even escape just a little bit?
Eventually he stops struggling with a huff, choosing to look around instead. He's not the only one in here by any means; there's a number of others, and who the hell knows where they're all being carted off to?
[3. CELEBRATE RELENTLESSNESS MENACE TO SOCIETY (murdersport)]
Of course Liquid's good. He's trained in many types of combat, so whether he needs to beat people up hand to hand or go for whatever weapons are available, he's going to have skill.
And the crowd loves him.
Whether he's actually fighting or just being shown off, he seems popular with crowds. It probably helps that he's definitely not bad-looking (among humanoids anyway), and it's clear that even fighting species he doesn't recognize that he knows what he's doing.
While obviously there's slaves more popular than he is, he's doing pretty damn well on the fame circuit for a new guy. Is it really that difficult for it to get to his head?
Maybe he's in the middle of a fight. Maybe he's being paraded around the outpost for advertisement. And damn, he looks good in that collar. Sometimes that and a pair of shorts is all he gets to wear. Sometimes he's suited up in as much gear as they can fit on him. Some seem fascinated by his glass arm. Some seem to think their guy's better than him. Some resent the guy when there's older slaves who don't get as much attention.
Where do you fit in?
[4. CLEAN ALL YOUR WOUNDS, CURSE ALL YOUR BONES (murdersport)]
This becomes routine. Liquid's good, damn good, and while he can't stand the fact that he's being forced into it, eventually it doesn't matter so much anymore. He's good. He's popular.
He knows this isn't good for his mental state, but it's hard to keep caring after a while.
They've been showing off his skills wherever they could but there isn't another fight for a while, so they've taken him back to a cell, and he's clearly restless. He's not alone, though. Someone else is in there, and he actually recognizes them. He offers about the friendliest look he can give someone in a situation like this.
"Been doing well, then?"
[5. I BREATHE IN, YOU BREATHE OUT (a daring rescue) (ocelot and ??? let's coordinate this!)]
It's been a few days, at least. Maybe more. He's lost track of time. Or maybe he just doesn't care about time. It doesn't matter. He's here for battle. But he's not alone, not this time.
He glares at the intruder, as if that's going to make them leave. Sure, he recognizes them, but he's got a fight to rest up for. He can't just sit around shooting the breeze with someone he knows.
Wait.
He shakes his head. Why's he thinking like that? God, it's just like Del Pascia, isn't it?
He might need to get the hell out of here before he starts actually wanting to do this for a living.
[6. WILDCARD]
[Anything else you want to do? Just pick something or plot with me here or at
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She happens upon Liquid when their respective owners get to talking shop. She recognizes him from the Moira, though they’ve never been formally introduced. A shame that they should have to meet like this. She takes in the collar and the shorts, not particularly impressed with his owner’s choice in attire. Zam’s not exactly one to be grateful to slavers, but she’s at least glad her own owners hadn’t made her wear anything so ridiculous. She reaches for her MID and types out a message.]
Don’t tell me they make you fight in that get-up.
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He's been through enough torture to know when it's a good idea to listen, though. At least until he's sure of just what this guy can do to him.
He stands there, paying just the minimum amount of attention to his surroundings, trying to look intimidating and not bored, when he notices there's a message on the MID. He opens it immediately. His owner had tried to get rid of the MID, but found that he couldn't, and as long as Liquid just made it out to be a device for games, he was allowed to use it. Small favors. The message gives him pause.]
Once. Mostly I think it's just for promotional purposes. 'Look at our guy' or something. 'So good he doesn't need protection.' They didn't explain it to me.
[The time they'd made him fight like this, well, he definitely had some skills to show off, at least. He glances up to see who from the Moira's hanging around here. Oh, there's another fighter slave, and he's pretty sure he sort of recognizes her.]
Nice armour. I'm almost jealous.
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Thanks. I’d like it better without this though. [She turns, casually, to reveal the gaudy logo on the back.] Though I have to say, I prefer this to a collar. Or a brand.
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[Listening to their owners talk doesn't reveal much in the way of information. In fact, it's incredibly dull. No one seems to be asking anything of him right now, at least.]
You see a lot of fighting, then? Sometimes I think they like showing me off more than actually letting me do what I'm good at.
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I see plenty. [She frowns as she turns back to face the crewman.] I wish I saw less. It’s not like taking out a mark where you know they probably deserve it. [It’s easy to turn off the little part of her that remembers that fact when she’s actually in the ring. But afterwards, when she’s alone with her thoughts, sometimes it’s all she can think about.]
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Yeah, it's not so good in the way of morality but I've given up on that sort of thing long ago. If I've got to be here, I really wish they'd stop bloody parading me around constantly. [Killing's an inevitable part of what Liquid is, and at least he doesn't pretend it isn't.]
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The next message doesn’t get her assent quite so easily.] Really? I prefer this to the actual fights. Less chance of being killed for the entertainment of some idiot slavers. Don’t tell me you actually LIKE showing off for those creeps.
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I'm not worried about being killed. [He's just gonna not-so-gracefully sidestep the whole 'showing off' thing.] I'm just used to fighting, I suppose. It's nothing I haven't done before. I mean. Beyond the particular circumstances.
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And who were you fighting before?
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[Liquid's noticed his owner really gets caught up in discussions, so he's not too worried he'll find out it's not a game he's playing.]
I'm a soldier. It's all the same in the end, if you look at it a certain way.
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[Zam is rarely in a position where she feels the need to argue for any sort of morality, but this seems fairly straightforward even to her. These aren’t criminals or crooked politicians they’re taking out. They aren’t marks. They’re just people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Killing them is… necessary, but there’s no thrill in it like there would be on a hunt.]
They’re just poor bastards who got picked off the streets like we did.
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[Although at this point, not as much as he should be. But it's hard to really explain an ingrained apprecation for killing. Unless you're Snake. Typing out a speech'd be too much work in this situation.]
I just fight. A lot.
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5
Ocelot's actually been watching Liquid longer than Liquid might expect. He even attended a few of Liquid's matches to gain intel on him and the best way to bust him out. For Ocelot, it wasn't about rushing in full of anger or emotion. He was a calculated cat, so to speak, always waiting for the proper moment to leap into action.
That time came before one of Liquid's matches. Ocelot managed to slip into the arena and found his way to where the prisoners were caged. He had to kill a couple of guards, but it's not like they'll be on this planet long once they get all their people back on the Moira.
The sound of jingling spurs announce his arrival as he walks down the corridor, eyeing all of the 'animals' until he stops in front of Liquid's cell.
"Evenin', boss. Can't say I like the accommodations. You ready to get out?"
Re: 5
It was nice, being appreciated for the things he did.
Really, though, he'd sort of been giving up on any chance of rescue. Even though he still had his MID, he'd found himself a bit too busy to use it most of the time.
And now here comes an incredibly familiar face, and he's feeling conflicted all of a sudden?
Shaking off those thoughts, he looks at Ocelot, and after a little more time than he should take he offers him a small smile, like he's trying to seem super nonchalant about the whole thing. "About time. I was beginning to think you'd all forgotten about me." At least he's dressed appropriately for battle and not in the getup they'd stuck him in not that long ago.
"Get me out of here before I decide I want to stay for the next fight."
Re: 5
He sure doesn't look like he's in a hurry to let Liquid out of his cell, though. "Actually, I have money on the next fight, so I thought I'd let you get in one last hurrah, so to speak, and bust you out after." Liquid is more than capable of taking care of what's lined up for the next match. "I hear the next one's a brawl. Should be lots of fun."
Re: 5
That should be a scarier thought than it is.
He sighs, stands up, stretches out. He's still in great condition, no injuries beyond some bruises and cuts. "Alright, I suppose I'd better get my frustrations out before I get back. When is the next match, anyway? They wouldn't give us much more than 'when it happens,' which is bloody useless."
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"Starts in about twenty minutes, so I better get out of here before they see me lurking around. Should be a good one. A ten man brawl, so watch your back." He wouldn't want to get ganged up on, though Ocelot thinks his boss can handle that, too.
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Not a bad way to end things here, all things considered.
"If anyone says anything, I'll just tell them you were coming to inspect your bet. Might not work, but it's worth a try." Then he waves him off. "See you after I win the fight, then."
So it's with confidence, about twenty minutes later, that he's escorted to battle... although with a bit of extra security and some surrounding whispers of dead guards. Funny thing, that.
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Ocelot finds a place in the stands to enjoy the battle that's about to take place. An announcer gives the details of the fight. A ten man brawl. No weapons, no rules, every man for himself. The crowd is blood thirsty, waiting for it to start. Knowing that in moments, ten men will create chaos and brutal death before their eyes.
Then the horn is blown and the gates open to release the prisoners. Most run straight for the center to collide in a clash of bodies, but one man hangs back, looking terrified.
"I keep telling you I'm not supposed to be in here! This is a huge mistake! Don't you know who I am?" No one listens to his claims, though. That man is one Liquid knows by now. It's the man who bought him and put Liquid into the fights.
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Besides, someone seems to be making a fuss. And when he sees who it is, he couldn't look more amused if he tried. And the other fighters are too busy with each other to notice one of the slaveowners is right in the match with them.
Fine. Liquid'll deal with this, then pick up the pieces.
"What's the problem?" he asks as he approaches him, voice far too calm. The sort of calm that really means something.
"Don't tell me you can't even hold your own. Someone so... prestigious should certainly have some combat experience, am I right?"
Oh, this is going to be fun.
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"Good! You'll protect me from these animals." Even the master doesn't sound entirely convinced of that, but he's hoping Liquid will just agree, being his property and all.
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He takes a slow step forward. The other slaves are still focused on their brawl. Some have fallen, but very few. Liquid speaks loud enough to be heard by his so-called master, but not much louder than that.
"Protect you? From these 'animals'? But they're just doing what they're told. The same sort of things you've sent me out to do. The same sort of things you've watched me do, praised me for, paraded me about showing me off for. What a convenient time to develop amnesia."
He takes another step, very close to him now. Close enough he can reach out and grab him if he needs to.
"But I'm a good slave, Master. I can help you. I can give you a reminder."
And that's when he straight-up decks him in the face.
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"This is different! You will do as I say! Do as I comm--"
That's when he's punched in the face. When the crowd sees that they go wild, erupting in roars because another match is starting for them to enjoy. It's the roar of a crowd thirsty for blood. Only one man in the audience does not cheer; he sits back in his chair with a subtle smile on his lips as he watches his boss go to work.
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The brawl to the side is still going on, although it's been whittled down to about six people. Two of the others are dead. The one who's left notices the owner here, notices the fight, slowly makes his way over. He gets close to Liquid, but he knocks him to the ground. He wasn't doing so well in the first place; he stays down.
Liquid's attention turns back to his master. "Look what you've made me do. More of a monster than I've ever been, all for the sake of entertainment. Do you enjoy it? I'm sure you're going to love being a part of it."
He leans in close. "Get ready for your closeup."
And then he punches him again, harder, but hopefully not enough to really kill him. Not just yet.
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