( october event log )

[hownkai]

Who: Everyone
When: October 1st and on
Where: The Mini Colony of the Runoff.
What: The Moira stops to resupply at the closest planet.
Warnings: None for now. Please label your content!

E V E N T L O G

big & small "It is an exploration for truth; the reveal can be more terrifying than the unknown." With supplies low and the general morale of the crew very much the same, the Moira still continues to move through the Runoff at a decent speed. As per Captain Ira's orders, plans to stop at the nearest port of call to re-supply and (hopefully) give those aboard a chance to recover from the catastrophe of the Luminous Sea and its subsequent plants have been made priority. Without much incident, after nearly a week and a half of traveling, the ship makes ready to dock. WELCOME TO THE MINI COLONY The Mini Colony was first established as a outpost between the Fixed Moons and the Living City of Inanna. Yet, over the centuries, it has flourished into an outpost of trade and commerce as well as is home to numerous individuals from across the universes. The temperature is generally mild all year, and even when it isn't, there are control units throughout the Mini Colony regulating weather conditions to keep it from such high extremes. Its citizens, while diverse, appear to cohabitate together well and are generally welcoming to those traveling through. However, beyond the numerous tourist areas, there are more dangerous and less friendly places in the Mini Colony. Anything and everything can be found here. You just have to know the right person to ask. ☄ OUT AND ABOUT There is quite a lot to see in the Mini Colony, and not even an entire week will allow for all that this place has to offer. Aside from the multiple businesses found within the MC, there are also plenty of other sectors ready to be explored by those crew members willing to brave these particular places. Yet, within these sectors, there are some "unknown" places that not even the locals really give much attention to. If explored, everything is as normal as any other place on the Mini Colony, but as time progresses, the trek through begins to take longer and longer. Soon, you find yourself tired and with no end in sight as to happening upon another sector, and after a while, a nearby bench seems to beckon you to sit. Upon sitting, a soft humming sound fills your ears and in the span between blinks, you're suddenly waking up on the Moira just as it docks at the Mini Colony. Talk about deja vu. ☄ SWEET NOTES After a few days, those aboard the ship may notice that particular areas of the Mini Colony are beginning to prepare for some sort of celebration. This festival is known as the Desiderium Festival, which derives from "an ardent desire for something that has been lost", and is a celebration to remember and honor the dead—as well as the living. It is celebrated with a particular fruit that ripens around this date every year. This citrus fruit is tart, yet sweet, and crumbles into caviar when removed from its rind; the fruit has no special effects on the eater but pairs nicely with alcohol for after-hours consumption. The group that throws this festival, the Lamaria, make paper from the rinds of the fruits, which is then used to write on and is the only proper paper for these notes to be written on. As fitting the occasion, people wear special finery to present the notes to their friends and relatives and to wear to the grave sites where they leave the notes for the dead. These tend to be burgundy and lime colors, like the fruits, and are shot through with gold. Participating is considered a great honor, so if asked to join, carefully consider before declining. ( ooc; For questions, go here. Please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! The CR Meme is also up! )

Comments

Adavalia Curative Specialties

[mind_ovr_matter]

In the midst of the colony is an inviting storefront, curtains lining the glass, with everything is decorated in white and red colors. It's no coincidence that the colors are those of a traditional hospital. The signs out front list the treatments that are available for one's ills inside—on one side are listed rates for the saunas, baths, and massage therapy, while on the other side are detailed the sonic and laser treatments, radiation therapy, and drugs available for various ills. The lists on the first side are extensive and feature such enhancements as aromatherapy, essential oils, and acid peels. The lists on the second are also comprehensive and claims are made to sure the common cold all the way up to cancer. All in all, it's clear this is a place for relaxing, rejuvenating, and healing.

Upon entering, the shopkeeper comes around from the counter and smiles at the potential client. "Welcome to Adavalia," she says. "How can I help you today?"

Venom | Open to new and previous CR

[poolhall_killer]

Out and About

[With his new job in mind, Venom pushes himself to explore this new world. Yeah, the last time didn't end so well, but he must press on. Lord Zato would want him to survive and learn more. And he's inspired heavily by Lord Zato to start cultivating something new in the garden.

Between his searches for viable samples, he will be checking out some of the new shops, namely the puzzle place.]

Sweet Notes - Spoilers for GGXrd Revelator

[Venom notes the change in atmosphere as the natives prepare for what appears to be a festival. He observes them scrambling to gather and process the unusual fruit, creating the paper, and writing as needed.

What he doesn't expect is an invitation.

He wouldn't want to upset them, so he accepts, finding something appropriate to wear as needed. As for that changing atmosphere, it becomes very clear as to what kind of festival this is. And it comforts Venom in a strange way.

One of the Lamaria gives him a few pieces of the fruit paper, guiding him on the procedure. He nods, unsure of how to go about it since the body of his friend isn't here. But he feels he needs to do something.

He starts to look around the area, remembering his final battle before the Ingress swept him here. Bedman was a dangerous opponent, and he had already humiliated the Guild once before. Venom summoned his ultimate magic, but it wasn't enough. It was thanks to his friend that he could truly defeat Bedman.

When he finds one of the plants that bears the fruit, he writes down a couple of notes.]

"Robo-Ky, thank you for everything. Without you, I could not have stopped him."

"For you, I will-"

[As he's working on a second one, he turns and tries to hide his tears.]

Ah, sorry. Am I in your way?

Padmé Amidala | ☄ OUT AND ABOUT | ota

[democratically]

There had been that brief debate about attending on the colony but in the end, Padmé had decided that it was unlikely that a trip down would result in a year long stay again. In truth, she did prefer being planet-side, but she was also simply grateful to have the opportunity to even be able to move about. She was also curious about what might be found, and with a vague notion in mind of things that she wanted to seek out, she had. It also gave her mind something to do other than just think about what had happened, and what chances she no longer had at the moment. Not that she regretted having met her daughter, but there was so much more that she would have liked to have learned, and liked to have worked on. She needed to be busy and occupied, even if it was just a short term fix.

Dressed in a rich green embroidered dress, her hair was pulled back away from her face, but otherwise left free in a tangle of seemingly unruly curls. The japor snippet might seem slightly out of place that dangled openly down her front, but it was also clear that it was something that she cherished. Indeed, as she strolled, Padmé rubbed it now and then as she paused in thought, looking at the wares that could be purchased. The temperature is to her liking, preferring warmth, but not the dry hotness of planets like Tatooine.

There was no real desire to travel too far this time, and unless something came up, her plan wasn't to do so. Rather she strolled, offering a smile when those already there gave one, and finding it generally to be an overall pleasant experience. Thirsty, she entered in to a shop, and perusing the menu, ordered a cup of tea, which she took to sit on an outside patio, where she could be found people watching. Later she would be seen shopping at some of the open stands, chatting up the vendors, and sampling small portions of various foods. Some of which she did end up buying.

Eventually, she would make her way across a shop called Puzzler, and thinking it could hold some interesting games, she entered. It wasn't that there wasn't something that could always be found to do aboard the ship, but perhaps it might give an opportunity for something else. Skipping over the solitary games, Padmé browsed through the other ones, and paused now and then, to read the premise. As it were, there were several strategic games that she kept, although it was clear she was humming and hawing over a game that was more of an amusement than not.

hey girl hey

[ex_forcechoke292]

He never knows how much space to give her. Not at home, not here, and certainly not now that they aren't being constantly pulled apart by trying to live around the fact of their union. He wants this, always, wants to be near, always, and yet that always has nearly done them both in.

Anakin isn't following her. Not exactly. He doesn't quite need to, with the MID and an innate sense of what Padmé's presence feels like. But he does casually wander in her direction until the Force dictates otherwise.

Finding her seated on a quaint patio outside a small cafe, despite any question of space, he takes an unspoken invitation at the other end of the table. He's casually running his fingers over a small black box in his flesh hand while the prosthetic elbow is propped on the table. A glance is spared at her, then one that follows her line of sight, and back again.

"Anyone interesting?"

Liquid Snake | ota

[saveyourserpent]

[A. UP AND DOWN AND ALL AROUND]

For a 'mini' colony, this place seems kind of big. Not planet big or anything, of course, but it gives Liquid the vibe of a bustling city. Businesses, tourism, all kinds of things. And, well, as much as he's been burnt out on fun, he can't just not take a look at what's around.

So he'll be checking out the local commerce, striking up conversations with people, and all in all just being a very, very, totally friendly, not angry at all person. For sure.

Weirdly enough, he's got his eye on that sports tournament. Who knew?

He'll be easily convinced into checking out anyone's wacky adventures, though. Can't just stand around and do nothing. Rope him into something fun.

[B. FAME FAME FAME FAME]

It's been a few days, and, well, Liquid's got himself kind of a reputation, playing for the Runoff Flyers. It's a deadly sport, and members of his team have already been injured and occasionally killed, but Liquid's been making it through with flying colors. Enough so that he's actually becoming kind of popular. At first it seemed pretty normal; he won't pretend he isn't good looking, and someone who plays well is bound to get some fans. But lately it's a little... excessive.

Maybe not excessive for someone who's used to being a sports star, but for someone who isn't, it's just weird.

He might be seen giving autographs, or getting gifts from strange people. Or maybe someone sees their fellow crewmember on a billboard. Either way, he certainly seems to be having a good time, even if he's a little mystified.

Of course, if one were to approach him after he's already seen a lot of people... "What, you want an autograph too?"

Sorry about Liquid's ego. He really likes the praise.

[C. CAN'T THINK UP ANY LYRICS ABOUT FRUIT RIGHT NOW]

So there's some kind of fruit festival going on, which Liquid was kind of interested in, just because of the food, but it wasn't necessarily something he was planning to do beyond maybe grabbing some fruit somewhere. He couldn't exactly ignore the invitation, especially not after apparently becoming kind of a minor celebrity.

In fact, someone even gave him a coat to suit up for the festival. It's bright-ass green.

"I... don't know if this really suits me."

[D. WILDCARD]

[as usual, find him wandering around or come plot with me here or at agentkaz! he's having an... adventure right before the tournament, so anything there won't be done until that's figured out. other than that, though, go wild.]

B)

[soldiergenes]

While Snake has been exploring as much of the colony as possible (and picking up on some worrisome signs of further slavery here, which makes this the third planet he's encountered that partakes in it), apparently Liquid has decided to go and make himself some sort of temporary sports star. It had been downright bizarre the first time that Snake had seen none other than Liquid featured on a news highlight.

Then again, he probably shouldn't be surprised that his brother has taken any chance to soak up the adoration and admiration of others. Snake tells himself that it's better than him trying to climb to the top of one of the criminal ladders here.

Snake passes by the stadium on his way to another part of the colony, so it's by chance that he happens to walk through when Liquid's out and about signing autographs and catering to the fans he's somehow already accumulated. (Seriously, how could anyone find him charming?)

When Liquid notices him and asks if he wants an autograph, Snake pauses and fixes him with the most unimpressed stare. "Very funny."

Rinzler | OTA

[notglitching]

A. Existential Crisis 1: The Lurkening (Medbay)

It's not unusual to find Rinzler anywhere and everywhere across the ship. But of all the rooms he might stop by, the medbay is a much less frequent waypoint than the rest. User medicine serves no purpose for him, and the small, sterile rooms it's housed in are unpleasant. He doesn't like to be here. But from the start of the user-month on, any visitors will find a rumbling, armored presence lurking in the corner for at least a few hours every day.

Specifically, next to the cryo tube tagged Clu.

His admin shouldn't be here. His admin should be fine. Rinzler had followed Clu's orders to the letter on the planet, and afterwards aboard the ship. He'd reported in. Provided data. Kept up his guard—if anything had gotten near the other program, Rinzler should have known. But his programmer had still wound up in stasis, leaving only a deep-coded ache of nausea (failed) where purpose and directive should take hold. Whatever had happened, he should have prevented it.

(If he had let Clu fix him, maybe he could have.)

The enforcer's mask twitches sideways, lingering briefly on another tube, not far away. Agent Washington. The user had entered cryo not long before Clu, and for just as little reason that Rinzler could tell. The last time Wash had been in one of these tubes, he'd been edited: new memories unlocked, render shaded (aged) with time and wear. And the last time the two of them had spoken, it was to argue over Clu. That, Rinzler supposes, is probably the only bright side.

At least they can't kill each other here.


B. [Your Name Here] and the Mysterious Rrrring Noise (All over!)

Rinzler's used to errors. With the ship. With the users. With himself, more often than he'd like. There's a reason he avoids rest cycles whenever possible. But this? Isn't... usually... it.

He's never woken up invisible before.

Brief experimentation confirms the fault isn't with his visuals—the user who nearly walks into him in the hall jumps half out of its shell when Rinzler elbows it aside. He doesn't seem to register on cameras, either—at least, not the ones he can get access to. He hasn't been edited. The fault makes no sense. Clu is still in stasis, and unavailable to report to for solutions. Alan-one might have an idea... but going to his other programmer feels like far too direct a betrayal.

In the end? Rinzler decides to ignore it. He shows up for his shift as usual. He carries out his ship-tasks. When he's done, he opts to take advantage of the glitch with a more in-depth exploration of the colony—minus any annoying interruptions from users asking questions.

Of course, invisible doesn't mean inaudible. And when he's not deliberately sneaking? Rinzler doesn't bother to mute his noise. In the halls, in the flight deck, or around the colony, your character might be subject to a very strange phenomenon: the steady, ticking rumble of conflicting code, emerging from.... midair.


C. Existential Crisis 2: Why Think When You Can Sulk? (CISM protest)

Rinzler's sense of trust had been all but nonexistent before that glitching party. At this point, it's a safe bet that anyone inviting him to partake in the local customs is getting glared at, growled at, and quite possibly hurt. Still, the weeks aboard ship have done very little for his urge to move, and on receiving a transport card for the colony, he wastes little time in heading out to explore.

Streets. Rooftops. He sticks to open areas for the most part, and the silhouette of a red-orange lightjet can occasionally be spotted overhead. It's during one of these scouting flights that the enforcer first spots the chokepoint of white tents blocking the streets, a single word flashing overhead. CISM. It's written on billboards. Projected in holographic displays. But it's not until Rinzler lands, not until he's walked up to the edges of the mob, that the visuals shift to make the full string clear. Cease Intergalactic Slavery Movement.

Rinzler stares. Rinzler stalls, a point of sudden, frozen loathing in the crowd. He remembers the slaver outpost. He'd fought to help his allies that were trapped there, taken pleasure in wiping the weak, disgusting merchants and their thugs. He needed to. Better to fight and kill and vent frustration on his prey than spend even a fraction of time looping over the implications.

Over his allies' moral outrage that a user might be owned.

Rinzler isn't a user. Rinzler is broken, Rinzler is perfect, Rinzler is so much less than even the other programs from his world. He's meant to be. He's pared down, repurposed, the fragmented pieces of Tron's failure leashed to a new directive: serve. He's Clu's weapon. Clu's tool. He's always known his function. Since coming to this ship, he's even learned the reasons why.

Sometimes, he wishes he hadn't. A bright eyed user holding fliers smiles at him, "Are you here to support the fight for freedom?", and Rinzler's fingers curl into fists, the scraping of corrupted code rising to a snarl. He doesn't speak (he can't), only watches as she steps back, swallowing uneasily. She should. He hates this place. Hates these people, and the questions they ask most of all.

He doesn't want to be here. Rinzler turns, noise still growling out in quiet fury as he stalks away. His spine is curved in his usual bowed hunch, code crawling with the urge to get away. Find a fight, a threat. Something worth killing.

That's why Clu kept him, after all.


[[ooc: use spam or prose freely-- I'll match! Option B is an AC reward, and will last 24 hours before ending just as mysteriously.]]

A

[fight4theusers]

Tron had only recently come out of his own cryotube, the glass-like scars on his face receding to a manageable level. The medical facilities had seemed to work similarly to his own stasis chamber in the Outlands, so many cycles ago. Sooner or later, he would have to have Sam or Alan-1 look at his code to fix the scars, but that... that would bring up a whole new set of errors that he did not want to parse at the moment.

He'd intended to return to the medbay to see if any improvements could be made on the tube he'd been in, just in case he'd have to go back at some point, but paused upon seeing a too-familiar figure standing inside. Rinzler, his double, his... mirror. Tron resisted the urge to turn away, to avoid him again.

But why was Rinzler here? Curiosity took over, and Tron stepped forward, not quite seeing the labels on the tubes near the other. "Rinzler," he called out softly, not a challenge, not a threat.

Zam Wesell | OTA

[backsassin]

a. i just wanna change [closed to Dick Grayson]
[As far as secrets go, Zam’s shapeshifting isn’t a very good one. Perhaps it would be possible to hide it -- change identity as they change forms so no one figures out multiple faces belong to the same person -- but it would be a high maintenance secret without much payoff. Easier to shift when they please, and leaves their crewmates to figure out the rest. Some do. Some don’t. And those in the latter category aren’t Zam’s problem to fix.

Which is why Zam doesn’t bother ducking into a private room on the ship to change forms now. They’re in the hall, watching their reflection in one of the Moira’s massive windows. If there are other people in the same corridor, none of them are actively staring as far as Zam knows and that’s about as much privacy as they need for a change they’ve done countless times before.

It only takes a few seconds. The human female form they had worn before shifts into that of a human male, so smoothly the change looks more like a shift in light than a shift in flesh and bone. But the face he wears afterwards is unmistakably different from the one he wore before.]

b. gravity plays favorites (Sector 25)
[As luck would have it, Zam ends up in Section 25 of the Mini-colony. It doesn’t seem all that interesting at first; spending a day at the park has never been Zam’s idea of a good time, no matter how beautiful the scenery. It’s only after he discovers the place’s more unique properties that he’s convinced to stay a while longer.

Throughout the day, you may find him experimenting with the place’s altered gravity: rolling stones up hills, tentatively following paths that curve upwards until they’re upside down, and trying to take advantage of the shifting gravity to get to places that they probably shouldn’t be. It’s all a fair enough distraction from problems he’d rather leave on the ship and forget.

Later on, it seems he’s gotten confident enough with maneuvering through the park’s fickle gravity fields to venture quite far off the beaten path. Visitors aren’t meant to navigate the forests with their unpredictable and unmarked gravitational shifts, but Zam’s drawn to the challenge more than to the park’s main road bustling with tourists. If you happen to enter the forest as well, it may take you a moment to find the former bounty hunter amidst the trees. Until you look up.]

Hey.

[The voice comes from above and when you look up, you’ll see Zam sitting on a tree branch -- upside down.

It may take some figuring out (and several, jarring shifts in gravity) but it’s not impossible to join him.]

c. gone hunting (Sector 43)
[There could’ve been any number of reasons you were at the arena. Maybe you wanted to watch. Maybe you wanted to participate. Or maybe your plans were more disruptive than that. What’s important is that before you ever get to see the main ring, a stranger grabs you by the arm and starts leading you forcefully out of the building.]

Trust me: you don’t want to be here.

[Zam’s not wearing either of his usual faces, but his voice is at least the same. Whether or not you recognize it is another matter.]

a.

[fingerstripes]

[ Stealing a moment to swap outfits in privacy is a tall order even when most of the crew isn’t preparing to disembark. Dick starts to step back into the corridor, back in standard Moira regalia, then stops when he spots the woman.

He doesn’t remember her being there when he’d slipped in here a minute ago, still decked out in Nightwing, which means he has time to turn around and walk back his mistake. Then he sees-

He sees.

His breath freezes. ]

Uh... hey! [ This is his chance. His one chance, and he can't (he won't) let it slip away. He moves fast, closing some of the distance between them. ] Stop me if I’m way off, but I could’ve sworn a minute ago you... [ He stops again, a fair distance away, letting his voice trail off stupidly. His eyes track towards the opposite door. ]

Was there somebody else here?

Agent Texas | OTA

[a_shadow]

☄ OUT & ABOUT

It's hardly been a few hours since Adrien approved Tex to graduate from a walker to a cane, but Tex doesn't mind heading down to the colony with only its assistance. She is meeting up with Ryuuzaki later at the scrap yard, but for now she's content to explore the nearest sector to the ship, walking slowly and looking in the nearby shops and such. She intends to press onm regardless of fatigue level, but soon enough she finds herself tiring and goes to sit. The bench looks comfortable and inviting, and there's no one here to see her lazing.

She lifts her head afterward, realizing she's drifted off. She's back on the ship. What has happened? "How did I get here?" she asks the person nearest her, there in the line to wait for the transporter.

☄ CARGO BAY

After Tex's visit to the scrapyard, she returns with her haul—twelve AI capture units and six assorted armor enhancements. She sets up right away in the cargo bay, prepared to do her work with the tools that are available there. Her intention is to render the AI units fully inoperable. This mainly involves tearing open the access panel and pulling out all the circuitry and the liquid crystal display on the side. She settles in at a table, setting her cane aside, and works at the first panel with a screwdriver to open it. If she seems overly fierce in the process of performing this task, well, who can blame her?

Perhaps someone who has no idea what she's up to.

cargo bay

[ventifact]

Never having seen someone so intent on tearing a piece of technology apart, Rey is one such person. The cargo bay isn't a place she frequents, but someone on the Ingress team has to run errands. There are a few things on her list to grab from the bay, but she forgets all about then when she sees Tex at the table, basically stabbing a piece of equipment with a screwdriver. Rey's brows pinch together and she moves forward, trying to get a look at what the technology is.

"What are you doing?"

adam jensen | closed to isha, hawke

[hanzer]

» THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME (LOCATION 14)

[Consciousness comes back to him by inches: first in the cool, damp soil on the side of his face; second in his mouth, dry and full of cotton balls; third in the worst headache he's had in months... Hard to think past that last bit, so that's where he leaves off. Groaning quietly, Adam manages to push himself up on his knees, struggling to focus as his systems rouse themselves once more. Count the indicators of his HUD as they wink back into view, give him something to cling to; before long, the pieces begin to fall back into place.

Tranqed. They were goddamn tranqed in broad daylight, and–

They. Not just him, they– and sudden rememberance hits him in a brief moment of panic, forcing him back on his feet. Faster than his body would like, given how his head swims in protest, but he stubbornly shakes off the lingering effects of whatever the hell they'd dosed him with and casts his glance all around for... There. A figure on the ground just a few yards from him, supine, motionless. Isha.]

Shit. [Don't be dead.] Shit.

[Making his way over to her (only stumbling once, even) he kneels at her side. No wounds, or at least nothing evident, and when he takes up her hand with one of his own and presses two fingers of the other to her wrist– to his relief, there's a pulse, steady and regular.

Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Adam pushes himself back up onto his feet and turns away, running a hand down his face. Brushing at it in annoyance, when his fingers come away with moist dirt. This whole "getting knocked out and having his body dumped who-knows-where" shit isn't the issue – it's just another Tuesday for him, frankly – but getting someone else involved like this...

He reaches into an inside pocket of his coat, digging around for his smokes– which, he soon realizes, aren't there. Along with the rest of what he had on him, including his weapons, and with that, the full extent of the situation finally dawns on him.

Adam scowls. So. This is how it's going to be, is it?]

(( open prompts will probably come later in a separate comment to this toplevel, but hit me up through pm or at arcanebarrage if you'd like to work out a starter! ))

it begins

[diamondhack]

[The intention had been to steer clear of nearly anyone. To be alone. And if she happened to come across anyone she knew, she'd let it happen. But to seek out people had been the furthest on her mind.

Before she could say anything, her limbs became heavy, her focus became blurred. She knew this already.

Darkness overcame her senses. Then less than nothing.

Her fingers start to twitch uncontrollably. The dry sensation in her mouth is where it starts. Nothing but images, scenarios of a time now long past flash in her mind. Blood. Anger. Metal. Her breathing starts to hitch, her heart starts to race. She can't react nearly as fast as she wants to react.

Again.

Her metal hand claws at the ground as she starts to move. The thin groan that escapes her lips sounds like a no, but it's too strained and low.

She could throw up right now. She's losing her balance and her breath. She keeps clawing at the dirt, trying to get up and failing.]

Where's Q?

[Somehow, it's not registering that she's not in a warehouse, but a jungle. She's not registering that she's not actually alone.]

Where's Q?

[She pushes herself up just too fast. The pounding headache curiously matches in time with the pounding pain in her shoulder.]

Fuck. Q?

[She's trying so hard not to yell or to sob Not that she could, anyway. Her heart's beating too fast and her breathing is too hitched to do anything else but to panic.]

Let me out!

Dick Grayson (Nightwing) | OTA

[fingerstripes]

a) "I want to get better"

[ There’s no real way to know how the locals will react to a strange masked man making himself at home on their rooftops, and deep down he knows that probably should have been enough to inspire a little more caution than this.

But he has to do this. There's only so much the training rooms on board can offer, and he has to prove to himself that he can still do this.

So Nightwing hits the streets, using the shadows for cover, testing the gear (grapple, hook, lines) piece by piece before he starts recon. There’s a lot his body remembers, but it's lost a solid year that his mind hasn't, and getting them to work together again doesn’t come without a few snags. But he’s been tumbling and flying since before he could walk, and this feels good. It feels better than good.

So good that his finger stays off the grapple gun trigger as he’s finishing off a serious of showy, cartwheeling flips; all smooth, flawless grace. All building momentum for his signature quad. It’s a jump between buildings that he would have nailed easily before the mantis planet, but this time he misjudges the mark. Three and a half turns in he reaches out for the opposite edge and misses, his balance suddenly gone as the empty air opens around him. The grapple gun is fast enough to save his life, but he hits the wall hard enough to wrench every tired, atrophied muscle in his body. The spell shatters, and for a moment it's all he can do to hang there, limp and dazed. ]


b) "the man I used to be"

[ The whole non-interference thing was a great plan while it lasted. Right now two dazed children and one adult with a painful-looking cut are gathering up a fallen bag of goods, seemingly preparing to flee while a group of armed dudes have fallen for a classic distraction ploy. Nightwing’s drawing them out, evading them in a dozen directions that somehow all lead away from the family, using his escrimas to dole out measured blows, even as more and more of the attackers get through. ]

So I’m gonna be honest- [ Nightwing doles out a careful blow to the head, then he sweeps the man’s legs, sending him crumbling to the ground. Two more are right behind him, three at Dick’s back. ] I wasn’t having the best night. But you boys are doing a lot to change that.

[ Actually there’s like twelve of them and by now it’s probably clear even to a casual observer that they’re wearing him down, slowly but surely. There’s something off in the way he’s moving, for all its finesse and bravado. ]


c) "but I’ve seen your face before"

[ There’s some shady business going on down below that could do with more watching than punching for the moment. Rather than risk the unknown quantities down in the colony he’s brought his own snack, balancing a small bowl of what looks like dry cereal artfully on his knee as he crouches in the shadow of an overhang. He’s eating it by the handful.

There’s no visible change in his posture when he’s no longer alone up here, but it’s clear a second later that is hasn’t escaped him. ]

Hi. [ He salutes off the right side of his mask. ]

B if this is okay!

[seeingscarlet]

[Wanda wasn't intending to get any Scarlet Witching in, but she sees the family and the armed men and someone with an MID doing his best even though he's outnumbered. Obviously she can't just leave.

One man throws a punch, but whether Nightwing dodges or not is irrelevant. It never would have connected, not with those scarlet wisps holding the man's fist in place. Wanda gestures sharply away and he goes flying by the arm into another one of the men. Both go down.

10 to 2. Better odds, if the men don't decide they'd really rather not deal with this and run. It wouldn't be the first time she's scared a gang away with a relatively minor show of power...but it also wouldn't be the first time someone's decided to try their luck.]

andyr prince | ota

[deconstruct]

[A] working at the orphanage;

[ when andyr first gets to the city, the first thing he looks for is work - and finds it fairly easily, when he happens onto an orphanage in the less glamorous part of town. it's something rewarding, more so that transporting money for corporations, being a delivery boy, or a bodyguard. it almost feels like home, for a moment, back when he used to look after the kids in their neighborhood or babysit for parents working too many jobs.

if someone happens to come by to visit or just peek around, you're likely to see Andyr being more peppy than he's ever been on the ship prior - running around with the kids, playing tea party when asked, hide and go seek, giving piggy back rides, being the scary monster in their pretend games so the kids can all wrestle him to the ground and he can feign great defeat. he doubles as security as well, getting up every so often at night to patrol around the area, make sure everything's safe and no one's coming in to steal these kids off - slavery is such a problem around here, and god have mercy on the slaver that picks this month to try to stock up on kids no one's likely to miss.

andyr will be spending the vast majority of his time here, the people running the building kind enough to give him a place to stay while in town. ]

[B] the fish market;

[ not to say andyr doesn't get out and around to explore plenty - after all, he's here for an entire month. given the aquarium room he and shepard are working on back on the moira, the fish market is one of the first places he stops, checking around for supplies, perhaps more fish, and asking vendors for information on the various species they have.

a large majority of his pay from the orphanage goes into this place, and you might run into him counting out the colony's version of pennies as he tries to purchase a book, filtration system, or fish food. ]

All I've got is... 23? Is that enough? [ the vendor seems to be shaking his head, reaching out a hand to take the merchandise back, and Andyr sighs, looking deflated, as he allows it to go back. He'll just have to pick up more work. There has to be something else on this planet he can do that requires relatively little skill form him. ]

[C] murder in the fighting rings (cw: intense violence);

[ it isn't the homidrome andyr goes to to get some extra cash out of a fight. it's too public, too many people to notice him. feels too much like home. much as he loves lending a hand at the orphanage, they can't pay him much, and there's things he has to get for the tanks back on the ship. clothes he needs for himself. food. there's two things andyr's good at - useless trivia about marine life, and fighting. maybe also babysitting, but he's already doing that one at the orphanage. so, fighting it is.

at least, up until he finds one of the underground rings to throw himself into, and has his first match paired with a slave. a man shoved in at the end of an electric prod, with a collar around his neck.

there's a single moment of tense, still quiet, and you can almost watch how Andyr changes. his expression slacks, turning to something blank, and from there, something darker - angry, vicious, hungry. andyr's lips pull back, into and animalistic snarl, before he's charging, leaping past the slave combatant against the grated metal door that isn't built strong enough to withstand someone of his kind of power. the first to go down is the one with the electric prod, and none of this is for the faint of heart or weak of stomach. it's all brutality and savage violence - snapped necks, fingers pushing into eye sockets to scoop the orbs out like grapes, cracking bone, knives pushed through throat or spiked through skulls, and for as long as people come at him, Andyr's taking them down with a horrifying kind of ease, almost mindless in it, using bodies as shields from gunfire, and the last of the initial surge is knocked down, then curb-stomped against the end of the audience stands. ]

Who's next? [ he's asking through gritted teeth, blood spatter across his cheek, as the proprietors of this particular grunge den reach for guns and take up perimeter positions - andyr doesn't seemed concerned about it, but he probably should be. instead, he shouts, an unhinged kind of roar in his voice. ] Who's fucking next?!

[ yeah, he might be needing a hand in getting out of this alive. ]

[D] being rude to the CISM ppl;

[ unfortunately, after that incident, Andyr's on a bit of a warpath. he starts seeing hints of enslavement everywhere he looks in the city, and it just boils in his blood, making him restless, jump and angry. sick with humanity, or galactic life as a whole, vengeance for what he'd come from to get here burning in him, and it's just unfortunate that he happens to pass by the people taking less aggressive methods of fighting the industry than he is. The CISM protesters, holding up signs and handing out fact sheets. ]

You're fucking signs aren't helping anyone. [ Andyr snaps, as he jerks one out of one of the protestor's hands, ripping it down the middle and tossing the halves to either side. ] You think people who turn other living beings into merchandise are gonna give a shit what your little pamphlets say? You think your bleeding hearts and slogans are gonna do anything to make the chains bite less, or make their bones any less broken?

[ it's personal, what he's seething at them, that much is clear. as far as andyr's considered it, since coming onto the moira, he never escaped being a slave to Hapsburg. it's still waiting for him back home, and the second the Ingress spazzes out again and sends him back, he'll be right back in his cell, or strapped back down onto a lab table to be sliced into again and again. even if it doesn't happen, all he's done is run. there's still a claim of property carved into his back, and those that put it there are still alive to claim it's validity. there'd been people like this in his world too - protesters and civil rights groups that did sit ins and, on occasion, were arrested for disorderly conduct. but had he ever seen a single one of them cross the hapsburg threshold and take action to get any of them out? no. they whined about liberties and then went home to their families and their nice homes and bedrooms, while Andyr had a well paid scientist carve into his skin, break his bones, and rearrange him as he pleased, and he'd screamed and screamed and screamed. No one listening. ]

If you wanna help them, do something. Get them out now.. [ he knows that means these people becoming criminals, but Andyr's utterly unforgiving in that sense. if you know it's wrong and don't do everything you can to stop it, you're as bad as the perpetrators. perhaps too intense of a stance to take, but one he's unmoving from. ] But none of you really give a shit, do you? Or you'd've already done it.

[E] wildcard;

[ idk come at me bro ]

c

[pushed]

[He doesn't know what to do with himself.

This month hasn't exactly started out so great, and it's left him restless. Some things you just don't forget, even a decade later. Add Cassie's turn in cryo on top of that-

He wants to be there when she comes out of it, wants to be there for her the way that she was for him. But Nick can only take so much of watching her, waiting for her to open her eyes and start running her mouth. When the hours pass, there comes a point when he's gotta get out of there before he does something crazy. He has to be there when she wakes up, which means he can't get himself dumped off on the nearest moon for raising seven kinds of hell.

So he goes, not expecting to run into anyone he knows, not particularly wanting to. When he's asked to join the festivities and offered their special paper, Nick declines, honor or not. There's really only one thing that he's good at, and that's finding a place to turn a little money into a lot of money, provided he doesn't lose it all first.

That's what brings him to the rings.]

You're kidding me.

[Nick mutters the words to himself, showing up just in time to watch Andyr go on the attack, bringing down guard after guard who live just long enough for Andyr to become their worst nightmare. But some are still breathing, and their hands might tremble but they're still holding guns in them.

This is the month he lost his father, and Cassie's not waking up, and he's really not in the fucking mood to watch Andyr die right in front of his eyes. Nick yanks a gun out of a guy's hand from at least twenty feet away, jumping over seats with people still in them to make it down to the ring.]

Hey! Andyr!

rey | star wars: tfa | ota

[ventifact]

OUT & ABOUT IN THE DESERT

[Considering how poorly the Moira's last two landings, Rey is more than a little skeptical of this place. She always leaves the ship armed, only eats and drinks her own rations, and checks in with BB-9 every hour. If she misses a check-in, the droid knows to contact a friend for help. All these plans, all these failsafes, are things she would have done were she still on Jakku. They were things to protect her from other scavengers, from Jakku itself, and now from this planet. So when she moves away from the main walkway and finds an interesting fence, she feels safe enough to take a key and walk through the door.

The first thing that hits her is the heat, immediately followed by the brightness. Her eyes water from the sudden change, and after a few moments of adjustment, it isn't the brightness anymore.

Carbon Ridge rises in the distance, a jagged cut into the empty Jakku skyline. It's a landmark Rey never thought she would see again. The ground shifts under her feet, and she knows that just her breathing is enough to make the sand move. But what is more astonishing, more unbelievable, is that ship partly buried by a dune in front of her. The Millennium Falcon as she had last seen it, a little battered and beaten, but still the fastest ship in the galaxy.

Rey stumbles towards it, slams her hand on the control for the bay door, and sand swirls as it lowers. She doesn't need the Force to tell her that the ship is empty, but she can't bring herself to question it right now. Rey fumbles for her MID, and sends a short message to the first three people her shaking hands find:]

You won't believe where I am.

[ooc; so! my understanding of rey's door is that she can bring anyone with her after her "first contact." so she'll probably send more messages out, to anyone she might think would want to come to jakku and even some misdirects. so please feel free to jump on in!! after the message pops up on the MID, a door will appear in front of your character that they can choose to walk through. i'm also down for text boomerangs in this thread!]

text;

[straightouttacarbonite]

[She probably didn't intend to send that to Han, but it's not like he's got a clue. He might ignore it if not for the door. That part's tough to ignore.]

what the hell?

Peter Maximoff

[takeitslow]

A. Ringside (Closed to the slaver fighting group)

[Alarms had went off in the back of his mind the moment he entered the room, saw the crowd gathered for the fight. He may have left then, if he hadn't noticed the shackles some handler was taking from one of the fighters. It had taken only moments to get ringside, to talk to one of the fighters waiting and confirm his fears. It took even less for him to pull out the MID and start making calls.

Once he'd gotten people gathered outside, the planning started.]

So I'm suggesting we just burst in a destroy everything. Get the people in the chains out, burn everything else.

[OOC: If you want to go with him calling, start in the middle of the action, do literally anything else with this or just play off each other, that's fine!]

B. Down in the Underground

[Waiting until night was probably the best option to take, but having to wait had put Peter into an anxious mood. It should be a simple task, escort the recently freed slaves to the tunnels. It doesn't stop him from feeling they're going to get caught any moment.

The group can be found ushering freed slaves down the city streets, arriving at the underground tunnels or hanging around the city to celebrate after the freed have been sent on. ]

C. Deja Vu (Closed to Rinzler)

[He'd only meant to sit down for a few seconds; to find a place to rest and finish off the street fare he'd bought for lunch. He was pretty sure he hadn't moved from his seat and yet here he was back on the ship.

It's like the island all over again.]

What the hell is happening?

[He's addressing the room at large, or maybe just talking to himself. Either way he's distressed, running a hand through his hair and looking around like someone else can explain why he's lost time again. He almost doesn't notice Rinzler nearby.]

Did we get drugged again? Dammit.

D. Chose Your Own Adventure

[Peter can be found hanging around a few shops looking for sweets to take back to the ship, or messing with some rewarded personal transport vehicles on empty streets. Or maybe he's found a wall to lean on and making inappropriate faces at everyone who passes. ]

C

[notglitching]

[Of all the users Rinzler preferred not to run into, Peter_Maximoff topped the local list. It might be a cycle and a half since their last fight—and that one, at least, had been by Rinzler's choosing. That didn't mean he didn't hate the user. That didn't mean its presence alone didn't rate a major threat.

Needless to say, even a chance encounter didn't do much for Rinzler's mood. He'd glimpsed the user in passing on the colony, when he'd been burning power (and frustration) mapping the layout of a less-used sector. And then the program had moved on, and paused, leaning on one of the seat-platforms—

—only to find himself back here, aboard the ship, familiar scan-data streaming in. The transporters. The flight deck. Rinzler steps back, hand snapping to a baton as attention flares out—find the source, map the threat, (how—) but no one's here. No enemies, no explanations, only a couple of the other transporter crew, staring at him with confused alarm.

And words, filtering up from the cargo bay below, in a voice that makes him want the weapon even more.

"—happening?"

Rinzler turns away from the inspection. Rinzler steps to the railing and glances down. The user is out in the open, surprise and frustration written clearly through nonverbals. "—drugged again?" and Rinzler stares, noise rattling out in raw, unfiltered anger. But for now (for once), it's not just at the glitch below.

He's listening.]

Sideswipe

[redshitlord]

OUT AND ABOUT
[Well, following some excitement with a dragon egg merchant, there is a long-legged, bright red Autobot charging through the streets. Something is clutched to his chest. It's a red dragon, matching his plating. About the size of a dog.]

[He's booking it away from a shop in the colony, running and jumping and dodging human traffic.]

[If you're a familiar face, regardless of your size, he's going to try and duck behind you, to use as a shield.]

You gotta hide me, I think I just freed a crying lizard and the owners are gonna scrap me!



SWEET NOTES
So I just... write stuff down and hand it out?

[Having settled down from his misadventure, and getting somehow drawn into this festival thing, he's gotten himself draped in gold and dark red scarves. About as much as an Autobot can get to human finery. With little gold detailing painted on his face -- like freckles.]

[He's currently parked down somewhere unobtrusive, looking at a smattering of paper shells. Confused.]

Good things? Bad things? Need a little more input here, man.

Sweet Notes

[kidjoy]

Don't know why ya'd wanna had out somethin' bad. Not unless you're wantin' to ruin somebody's day.

[The Girl has something lime that might have been a scarf, might have been a shirt, tied around her hair like a head band, and a stack of red and gold bangles on her arms. It's not quite as decked out as everyone else, or even Sideswipe himself, but she's enjoying the extra bits of color the locals have given her.

She stops by the Autobot, smiling up at the mess of fabric.]

I like your paint job.

Reinhardt

[grandpaladin]

OUT AND ABOUT
[Well! Why not browse around? Maybe they will have some good music or currwurst somewhere. Or an alien version of it. Anything is possible!]

[The big man can be found wandering idly from store to store, not staying long. Just browsing. Maybe you can give him a hand!]



SWEET NOTES
Thank you.

[Notes to dead friends and relatives, hm? Well. Seems like just the place for the Crusader of Overwatch Past to spend his time. His handwriting is neat, precise. And oddly small for a man so big.]

[The messages are just as concise. Brief, personal little things. Folded up and carefully placed among the others. Before he steps back, respectful of the other people present. Keeping a decent distance while still studying the little papers he set out.]

[Reinhard doesn't know if this will do any good, help anything. Or if it's nothing more than some kind of placebo effect. But hey. It can't hurt to give it a try, can it?]

[Maybe, somewhere, Jack and Ana can read them, and laugh at old jokes.]

Sweet Notes

[justice_from_above]

[For this, Pharah is out of armor, and in a simple dress fitting the situation. Reinhardt might catch her writing out a couple lengthy notes, carefully placing them with the others, her fingers lingering on them before she steps away.]

[It's not long before she spots Reinhardt, and walks over to him, slips her hand in his, and lifts up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. The gravitas of the night has her counting her blessings; she's slipped a note into his hand.]

How are you, tonight?

76 | get at me

[mylawn]

out and about (area 10 and some other places)

[76’s suspicions prove accurate when he bails on the colony’s transportation system to investigate the back maintenance areas of the tramways. An excursion into the underwater segment of the track leads him to a passage that leads him to a tunnel. Further investigation reveals a system of tunnels—a veritable labyrinth that he finds he has no choice but to navigate. He’s not the type of person to leave this kind of thing alone.

Luckily, there seem to be exits in the tunnels every mile or so, giving him a good opportunity to map the system. And it turns out he isn’t alone down there, either, though that matter is a bit more complicated to sort out. He supposes he should consider himself lucky that no one was looking for a fight.

The ladders to the surface spit him out in strange places—often out of the way, discreet, and always awkward to be seen leaving. Then again, it’s hard not to be awkward out in relatively normal civilization while dressed in full tactical gear and carrying a really big gun. You might spot him sneaking his way out of a presumably abandoned building.

He's a little difficult to miss. None of this is suspicious or shady at all.]

wildcard

((Anything you want. Here is a quick rundown of his section, if you’re interested. Hit me up on plurk at whitticus!))

[cadeuces]

[ Following his text, Angela had been quick to make her way over to Sector 10 with her staff in hand, keeping a careful clip that didn't attract attention and sidestepping a few tourist traps along the way with a smile and an incline of the head, gentle "no thank you"s at every turn.

She finds the railway station tucked just off the beaten path and she's on her MID again, shooting him a new message: ]

I've arrived; I'm just outside.

[ Not for long, though, because she's walking into the station before anyone can see her. ]

Alan Bradley | OTA

[alan_1]

a. those who are dead are not dead (sector 39)
[Like most mortal beings, Alan is no stranger to the concern of death and what might come after it. In fact, given he has died since coming aboard the Moira, he would say he has more experience with the matter than most. That said, of all the afterlifes he could have possibly imagined, he didn’t expect any to come with guided tours.

He’s with a small group of other visitors at the Life After Death facility, being led by a smiling docent through the building’s bright hallways, lined with towering black columns that, according to their guide, house the digitized consciousnesses of countless people, living on even after their physical bodies have failed. Alan listens, distantly. The docent focuses more on the results rather than the actual technology behind it and any mention of the actual process is only laid out in broad strokes. In other words, it doesn't hold his interest.

He stops to inspect one of the black pillars. It’s non-descript and if one ignored the sheer size, it could be any other device for data storage. Exactly how much space does a human consciousness occupy within a system? ENCOM’s servers almost thirty years past had managed at least one. And the Grid, at least for a little while, had held two.

In both cases, at least one of those people had managed to make the journey back out.

Lost in thought as he is, Alan doesn’t notice that the group has moved on, leaving him alone amidst the rows of black towers.]

b. they’re just living in my head (sweet notes)
[It is, Alan thinks, a nice festival. He doesn’t participate himself—even if he were approached, the stories he’s heard about the crewmembers who’d taken part in the festivities on the last planet are still fresh in his mind—but he does observe. The offering of fruit, the ceremonial attire, the exchange of little paper notes, he watches with some interest. And when the crowds of people in attendance begin to move through the streets with purpose in a single direction, he follows, curiosity outweighing caution. Once they reach their destination, it isn’t long before Alan sees the true purpose of those notes so many are still carrying.

He doesn’t follow the crowds past the gate into the burial grounds. He doesn’t have to to understand what they’re doing, and by the time individuals and groups have split off from the crowd, it only seems natural that a few reach down and leave their notes resting on the soil, messages for the dead.

It’s a beautiful tradition. He doesn’t know why seeing it makes him feel so hollow.]

a.

[trap_factory]

[Prometheus isn't entirely sure how he got himself roped into this sort of tour... But upon hearing what the Life After Death facility did, he couldn't help but be curious in that morbid and self-deprecating way. Were they perhaps using these people as an alternate source of energy? Hahaha, imagine!

He should have snuck away earlier, up and out of the stupid building with people's lame attempt to prolong their lives. How pitiful (what was so good about living forever anyway?). Prometheus does manage to slip away from his group and is considering making his own way back to the exit when his radar picks up a familiar reading. Now, what would that man be doing here? Was this some sort of attempt at comedic irony?

... Which was rich, considering Prometheus had picked a fight with Rinzler a day or so ago]

You seem rather engrossed. What sort of ideas are going through your head this time, Alan? It isn't as if this technology would do you any good.

[the accusation in his tone was clear. If there's one thing Prometheus can hold, it was definitely a grudge]

riptide / ota

[knaval]

out and about

[it's been a ten minute dream of riptide to have a successful street band. he'd seen one earlier, and decided that he wants in on it. himself, of course. it's easy enough for riptide to find a spot and a giant guitar. you can buy just about anything around here, after all, and he has plenty of stuff to trade.

anyone who ventures near the water ways will see him sitting cross legged, tongue sticking out in concentration as he teaches himself how to strum the giant instrument in a way that doesn't make people scream and run for cover himself.

he strums it once. then lets out a low whistle.]

Ummm... music, words words words. Sing from the spark? Psssshh...

[he might need a little help getting started. or get told to move for being a audio public menace.]

sweet notes

[the first thing riptide did, naturally, was draw on them. he draws ultra magnus looking happy, then ratchet (which he scribbles out) and finally, whirl. with sticks for legs.

a native gently asks if this is how his race communicates. through pictures? no, riptide just didn't know what else to do with this stuff. oh. you're meant to write? well, okay.

he's hunched over the 'paper', scribbling on it. there's a good sized pile next to them. inquisitive viewers might note that there's a lot of blocked out words on them.]

Hey, uh. How do you spell night? Does it have an a in it?

wildcard

[you know the drill]

SWEET NOTES

[onlytwoexpressions]

[Minimus has decided that wondering around in the Magnus Armor was just a little too conspicuous. He'd been hearing rumblings of a slave trade, and he felt that perhaps Minimus Ambus could get his audials closer to the ground than Ultra Magnus could in this colony.]

[He was out and about, attempting to seem as inconspicuous as a green, mustachioed robot man could be, when he spied Riptide diligently working on...something.]

[He approaches his crewmate...and nearly balks at the question.]

An 'A?' Riptide? Dare I ask what you're doing, or should I have followed my first instinct and about-faced when the incredulity of that question struck me?

Marian Hawke (cw: blood, death, blood magic)

[otiosity]

[In the Survival Arena - PROBS CLOSED]

[Hawke's not willing to call this a bad idea yet. It was just... harder than expected. So what else was new? "Harder than I Expected and I Still Made it Out Alive" was shaping up to be the title of her memoir that only existed in her head. She crouches beneath an outcropping, her eyes and ears alert for anyone coming. The fact that there were hunters here and out to kill her for sport as much as she was here to survive for sport was certainly a wrench in things. Thankfully, she's an old hat at the survival thing even if doing in the heat is new. She's forgone the survival equipment except for a belt with canteens and energy drinks around her slim hips. Her forehead and back are wet with sweat and her boots and the knees of her leggings are dirty from crouching on the ground. Behind her, a corpse lies burned in a puddle.

Killing these assholes wasn't that hard. The difficult thing was doing in a way that wasn't going to kill her from mana drainage. She'd manage to steal a few of their guns but her aim was still poor and required her to be up close hit anything, so magic was still her fall back. And without a staff it was even harder than before.

Something snaps behind her and Hawke whips around to listen better. Something is moving through the brush, talking loudly, far too loudly for anyone trying to survive. She takes a few steps forward and then leaps out from the outcropping with her gun held out in front of her.

Oh it's-]

Isha!

And you. I threw up on you. Jensen? Right, so what's going on? Do you know? Do I know more than you? Best to hash these things out later or else it gets so awkward.

[RUDE.]

[Post-Survival Dome on the Area 13 Helipad - Open]

[The smoke from the dome drifting into the air gave Hawke a vindicated feeling in her stomach. Good luck repairing that place. Good luck convincing anyone to ever take part in that horrible thing again. The vindication was a nice compliment to the image of the CISM advocates running to the warehouses to release the slaves that had been promised as her prize. They pour out of the gates, chattering in surprise, and staring wide-eyed at the light.

Hawke stands back, watching from afar. She could be in worse shape than she is. There's a cut on her forehead and on her side but she's still standing. Yep, still standing.

Her left arm though is wrapped in a sheet covered in blood. She tries not to look at it, tries not to think of how in moment of desperation she tore through her own flesh with a knife and found satisfying power in it. Power that had been ripped from her these past months. Merrill does blood magic, she tells herself. Merrill didn't have a father that warned her of the dangerous of blood magic and maleficarum.

Satisfied with her work, Hawke ducks into an alley, trying to make a quick escape. But maybe she'll run into someone she knows?]

[At the Ingress Park Memorial]

[She's standing in the middle of the park throwing a stick to a happily loping Kitty who seems to be so happy to see something other than the bloody gardens. All of Hawke's wounds have been bandaged and her arm is in a sling. Maker, she really has to have a month where nothing goes wrong someday, right?

She throws the stick continuously, with a funny sort of monotony that is strange in the face of her usual animated antics. She's quiet, distracted, and probably won't even know you're there until suddenly Kitty is bounding towards you with the stick instead of her.]

[Wildcard.]

((ooc; I'm open to anything! PM me or hit me up on plurk at bowtie!))

season 27 of naked and afraid

[hanzer]

[He supposes it's a testament to their weird relationship that it hardly takes more than an hour after being dropped in this stinking jungle for he and Devan to fall into familiar, comfortable patterns of disagreeableness. It's a nothing argument, whatever this thing they're having is – like watching a goddamn episode of Gilmore Girls – but even Mr. Silent And Brooding finds himself responding to the jibes in spite of this whole... Ostensible survival situation thing they've got going on. His brain tuning out a few words here or there when the argument circles back around to the original point for the fourth time. Are they out of the jungle yet? Has he finally, belatedly, hit Purgatory? Will something come along and save him from this idiot conversation?

Almost as if on cue, a shape bursts from the underbrush and his reflexes – nerve bundles run through with circuits and supercharged as they are – react before the rest of him can. It's all he can to do to stop himself from thoughtlessly launching himself at the sudden, new threat that's presented itself, blunt-tipped nano-ceramic blades deploying from both wrists–

...And it's Hawke. The hell? He lets his arms – drawn back, ready to drive both blades forward into his "attacker" – drop to his sides, but doesn't quite relax just yet. Mostly because there's also a gun pointed in his face which, understandably, he finds disagreeable. Also: "oh, it's that guy I threw up on." Real nice. Adam arches the fuck out of one eyebrow, scowling and shrugging his shoulders in the universal gesture for "seriously?"]

Nice to see you too. [As irritated as he looks, his voice has lost none of its characteristic Jensen dispassion. He jerks his head at her, indicating her weapon – business end still directed towards him.] Put the gun down before somebody gets hurt.

[That "somebody" probably not being him, his tone seems to imply. Hawke's no enemy – he certainly hopes not, anyway – but it certainly wouldn't be the first time he's been fooled today. The blades stay out for the moment, the artificial muscles of his arms taut and charged, like tight coils of wire. Information. Yeah, information would be nice. Adam shoots a glance by his side, trading looks with Isha from behind his darkened lenses before turning his attention back on Hawke. He shrugs.]

Why don't we just go ahead and assume you know more than we do?

closed to barnes;

[voicelog]

[The colony has proven to be a nice, little distraction for Tony. It has enough sectors to keep him intrigued and focused on avoiding his problems. (He has a lot of them. None of which he's willing to share at this time.) One of his favorite section is the food market. For one, it has food; for another, it has food. He has grown partial to certain areas of the colony, but he's opening his day to explore the other sectors more thoroughly.

Par the course, he's already created a map of the colony. He's adding details and relevant information to it as he goes. With any luck, it won't be as in-depth as the planet they landed on a while back. He can't handle another year passing by without his notice.

He's on the lookout for dessert before he wastes a few hours shopping. Aside from clothes, Tony needs to look for parts he could purchase to build a filtration system. He could probably find a filtration system to buy here, but it's not going to keep his hands busy. (One would think an apparent year's worth of maintenance on the Moira as well as both Ingress and Engines work is enough for him to feel like he deserves a break. He disagrees strongly with that.) Examining one of the bizarre food on display, Tony catches sight of a familiar face from the corner of his eyes. It's been a while since he last saw alt Barnes. Boy, is he in a serious need of a haircut.]

You've always struck me as the adventurous type. Have you tried one of these yet? [He holds up one of the free samples offered to him by the seller.]

[dislocked]

What are those?

[ A haircut and a shave, really; but at least the latter is more or less taken care of. The year has taken a toll on him as well -- although not as much as it had the others. The mini colony has been interesting so far, and yes, definitely a distraction from his problems. He's taken the day to explore, and when Tony speaks up, he contemplates the samples he holds up.

He's getting used to the idea of having two Tonys who don't look like each other, but seem to have all the other traits down pat, and that apparently this is also a thing, especially when there's a younger (and markedly different) version of himself running around in the ship.

He's not too inclined to eat just anything; it's too easy to be poisoned -- one slip-up, and you can be drowning on dry land, or a silently screaming witness as your organs shut down. But he makes conversation anyway, since this is the first friendly face he's seen here in days. ]

Have you tried it?

venom snake | semi-closed, semi-public!

[alterplex]

A. DOWN UNDER.

[ To anyone that Venom contacted over on his post, he's left the way open for whoever wants to lend a hand in the extraction process: he's sent a map of the facility to those directly interested in the heavy lifting, and it should be easy enough to follow (step over the sleeping guards slumped against the wall, please and thank you) to the nightmare room in question.

Venom is situated by one of the beds, calming down the individual that he's managed to unhook from the IV. The sudden appearance of another presence in the room is cause for him to lift his gun from his side and position it towards whoever is entering, but he relaxes once recognition sets in and gestures to the few dozen 'patients' lining the walls. ]

Got our work cut out for us.

B. EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE.

[ For those approached regarding a more medical-related consultation, Venom will contact them once all the bodies are safely carted out and taken to a more discreet location. From what Venom can tell, they're in stable condition save for the scaly patch of skin where the IV'd been inserted into their veins; occasionally, some of them will start thrashing in what seems to be withdrawal symptoms, but they're not particularly violent, nor do they seem to be shutting down completely.

No one particularly needs Venom's permission to take a closer look, but Venom is there, as somber and measured as he always is. Feel free to say hi, tbh. ]

C. WILDCARD 1.

[ let's make shit up on the fly, do you want something to have gone wrong?? suddenly, a bunch of lab people get the jump on our intrepid heroes? what's that, lassie, it's time to murder?

hit me up and let's do it, we're all cool kids here!! ]

D. WILDCARD 2.

[ Want to chill and take a breather after all this shit is done and over with? Let's do that, too: this is just another day in the life of Venom Snake, but it might be nice to just sit around and say 'yo, that was crazy, huh'.

Alternately, feel free to encounter Venom walking around in the city, or have him bail you out, or run into him when he's carrying two unconscious people on his back down a shady alley. What the hell is going on with him? Well, you need only ask, tomos. ]

A

[justice_from_above]

[Pharah comes in at a brisk pace, having dropped everything she was doing when she got the call. She draws up short as Ahab goes for his gun, holding up her hands in a placating manner, then relaxes when he puts it back down. She nods at his comment; ready to get down to business.]

Let's do this. Where are we taking them?

angela ❝ᴍᴇʀᴄʏ❞ ziegler ( open )

[cadeuces]

( out and about & medbay ) so you're tired of wakin' up on empty
you left for something that ain't real

SIDE A ( GENERAL )
[ To say that there wasn't much to do around the mini-colony would be an outright lie. Already she's been in the tunnels helping in the escape of the slaves, she's cleared out the creatatorium of its experiments, and goodness knows what else, and a solid medical base seems pertinent. She's taken to carrying around a hefty medical kit on her person and her staff is always in hand, with the added security of her blaster tucked in a side pocket of her bag. The current political climate of this place had not seemed the safest, nor were her fellow shipmates doing much to help in that regard.

The doctor gravitates to the more scenic locations, like the Ingress honoring park where gravity was an adventure and the food market, but she had also wandered by to look at the nanotechnology display in sector 38 as well as the resurrection machine in sector 34, directly related to her skills and curious to see how they were applied in other worlds. The technology both seemed similar and far different as she knew it, and she doesn't linger terribly long. Her sightseeing is largely passive, but if approached she will maintain friendly conversation and walk with others to explore further reaches of the colony. ]


SIDE B ( FERRIS WHEEL OF FATE )
[ Now, who can turn down such a decadent-looking free ride? Angela has no qualms getting on this ride queued up with strangers, or accompanying a friend, but the sensation and whirls of colors leaves her elated and smiling wide in wonder, perhaps even going so far as to catch the sleeve of her partner for this ride until they come to a stop and... well. That certainly isn't who she thought she was holding onto— or perhaps it's by virtue of the contact that the two of them end up in someone else's car entirely, but the resulting remark will be the same. ]

Oh...! I do apologize for latching onto you— that was a thrill! Weren't the colors wonderful?


SIDE C ( HOMELESS CAMP )
[ It should come as no surprise that Angela's found herself at the homeless camp beside the stadium, spanning the strip of land leftover from the park's landscaping and now dotted in a variety of tents, most of which are hosting fires as the evening draws near. She winds her way around, feeling as though she never closes her medical kit and takes the time to check in on as many as she can. Sometimes the inhabitants will show her to those who need medical attention, and she'll be drawn along with a hand at her elbow, all the while she's assuring she'll do her utmost to help.

All of the residents were friendly and gentle, and it was often said that those with the least to give were the most generous— the same holds true here. Angela is offered everything at their disposal for her care, but she turns down all but the tiniest of trinkets with a raised hand and a polite "I couldn't possibly..." as she finishes one of her many exams, which she can be found in the middle of. ]

Let's get your coat off so I can see your arm, all right? You said you scraped it while you were working in landscaping? ...Your skin is rather warm— it's only a little infection. Nothing to worry about, I promise.

[ And she activates her staff with a warm yellow light, curing the aforementioned wound with her nanites after a little bit of tweaking had been done to her targeting algorithm. She had figured it out in the medbay some time ago, so everything going forward would make life significantly easier if she had to help anyone inhuman. It may to a strange sight to many who have seen her working; she has yet to really use her nanotechnology to heal anyone with the sort of stigma it had carried, but the technology was present here and no one seemed wary of it. Just this once, perhaps, she can use it on those she comes across in need. ]

( medbay ) so you think a couple of familiar faces
are gonna turn it all around

[ In her downtime, between the exhaustion of exploring and the other antics she's been up to, Angela will be spending time aboard the Moira, largely manning the medbay and making her rounds to check in on those still cooped up here or the newer faces dragged in for medical care due to their adventures in the colony. She does, however, have a new companion in tow— the mail drop had left her multiple surprises, one of which is the large (and impossibly fluffy) puppy curled up at her feet, getting his regulated hours of sleep in between visitors. For his age, he is already very mellow and the most anyone will get out of him is one careful jump up onto their legs and a lot of wet puppy kisses with a dangerous wag of his tail, threatening to knock over anything weighing less than ten pounds. He's quickly become her shadow and follows her around from patient to patient, and he is certainly open to petting and cuddles from all who desire some companionship, but he jumps down to follow Angela the moment she turns to leave.

The bigger issue, it seems, is that she hasn't quite decided on a name yet for her handsome new companion. She can be found sipping her coffee, one long leg crossed over the other with the pup at her feet, calling different names to see what he responds to in his downtime. She has thus far accomplished "here", and "sit" in her training. Anything more is... well. ]

Will you be... Mönch? How about... Eiger? Or will you answer to... Dom? Tödi? [ Whereas the other names had earned occasional looks or flicks of the ear, it's clear that one of these is... not as interesting to the lil guy. ] ...No? No interest at all in Tödi? Fair enough. We'll figure you out yet, I promise. I've been proud of you so far; you've been very well-behaved, sir.

( festival ) you wanna be where they still pump your gas for you
where they remember your name

[ Perhaps due to the assistance she'd provided the homeless, Angela finds herself invited to the Desiderium festival and was instructed on how to dress, so she's found herself something appropriate edging further into robes than an actual dress, and will have her pup at her heels with a matching scarf about his neck. The fruits are delicious and she has some sort of pastry in one hand topped in the unique caviar-esque pearls, writing out the notes with care and in a swooping, elegant hand so unlike her tidy block print for use in professional settings. Anyone peeking over her shoulder will find her papers titled to Ana, Jack, and mysteriously enough, Gabriel, as well as her parents and a few others whose paths she's crossed. She takes care in her wording and seems to be enjoying herself in the act, a wistful little smile accompanying her words and hand never stilling as she fills the delicately-crafted papers. Memories she'd wish to share, the well-being of others, the ways she thinks of them in quiet moments between her day or things that still remind her of them. ]

( wildcard ) they think that you are some beauty queen
or something better, where they remember your name

[ Have another idea or we've discussed something different? Drop that sucker here! I can be private plurked at clegane or you can shoot me a PM, or comment to my contact post in Angie's journal here! c: ]

festival

[dancingblade]

[Fi is, at best, spectating. She feels little to no particularly need to write letters to anyone and she had no need to consume the food being served. As always, the spirit floats gently through the crowds, quietly observing the participants and occasionally getting shooed away (with varying levels of impatience) when she inadvertently invades someone's personal space. There are a few members of the Moira filtering through, quietly - respectfully, Fi corrects herself with a nod - participating in the festivities... Or staying out of it when they feel they don't belong.

There is one woman who seems to be quite taken by the events, judging by how cheerfully(?) she participates in writing those precious notes. There is nothing to announce Fi's arrival, save for the soft sparkling noise that follows her everywhere and that sense of someone hovering over your shoulder.

And maybe the surprised puppy at her feet when it looks up and spots the spirit hovering over Mercy's shoulder]

closed to rogers;

[voicelog]

[Tony has never been the type to get a pet. Someone like him doesn’t have the time to raise one. As much as he does like animals, he can’t give them the attention they need, so it’s never crossed his mind to get one – not until now.

Apparently, spending over a year in space changes a man. (Not really.)

After seeing the water dragons for the first time, Tony decides it might not hurt to go look at them again for a second time. They’re small, cute, and frankly freakin’ cool, okay? Logic would dictate he doesn’t get one. He should just look at them a final time and then continue on his way. He has more important matters to attend to. Logic always wins out with him and he’s 100% ready to talk himself out of it – or at least he was until a certain blond shows up.]

Hey Cap. [He nods towards a couple of hatched water dragons.] Are you here to check out these little guys too?

Makin' Shady Dough - Closed to Texas

[beautifulspaceraptor]

"That went surprisingly well," Nihlus remarks once they're off the metro system. He's been silent most of the way, keeping an eye out and discretely checking his omni-tool now and then to see if there was any kind of leak; anyone potentially following them or tracking them electronically.

So far as he and his Spectre-grade hardware could tell, though? It's been tight.

Doctor Banner's shields were still up and the Captains' mercs were keeping up their end of the bargain as far he could glean from things. The whale mineral industry was just beginning to wobble and the dealers were probably scrambling to gather enough resources to get through. The synthetic formula should knock shake things up. Spreading information about what really went on in Ceta here should ax things in the knee proper, maybe start a bloodless mineral movement.

Something to do a bit later though. Right now? There's money to deal with.

"So," he turns to Texas as they drift towards a small cafe with a pink, cheery squid-looking thing on its sign. "What format do you want it all in?"

[a_shadow]

The negotiations had gone well and once they'd been able to prove the formula produced what it was meant to, the investors they had met with were falling all over themselves to make the formula their intellectual property. It had been tense, but a good kind of tense, mainly because the effort had paid off in the end.

"Whatever's the most liquid," she says in response to Nihlus's question. "I know they're not big on cash in this universe but I always feel most secure when I can count my money myself." It's probably smarter to invest at least part of it, to set things up to accrue interest, but she hates not having easy access to her own earnings.

closed to tony | backdated to the beginning of the month | cw: mentions of slavery

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

[Oh, it had just been J's luck to be the one to end up inside the crazy religion house while doing her little exploring around the Mini Colony. And when she had been invited inside by the residents full of drugs and asked whether she'd like to join them in their worship to the death or something crazy like that, she reacted like any reasonable person would have: with a mixture of amusement and belittlement. Same with the kid who she had encountered as she was leaving. The little boy had touched her arm and promised that she would now have ability of her choosing and then run off laughing, obviously pulling her leg.

In the end J hadn't spent more than fifteen minutes in the house before leaving the place, not thinking too much about anything she saw in there. A house full of crazies.

After that she continues exploring the planet and ventures down to more shady parts of the districts. She visits stores that all sell weird and unusual merchandise -- most of them appearing to her as a nothing but worthless junk. But just as she exits one of the stores that appeared to sell different kind of clocks her eyes spots a man who looks strangely familiar looking man standing on the other side of the road and having a chat with someone else. J stills for a moment and knits her brows together, trying to place the puzzle pieces together and remember just where she had seen him before. And as the man turns, revealing the ugly looking scar peeking underneath his shirt, it all comes back to her. The small cage, mocking grin, the fist and pain. He's one of the slavers from the Outpost.

And that's exactly when J starts moving again. She's not sure if he remembers her and she's not about to stay and wait to find out. She walks with hasty steps -- almost running -- away from the couple without paying much attention to where she's going. As she hurries downhill, feeling the wind increasing and messing with her hair, she accidentally missteps. But instead of falling down on the pavement the world starts suddenly spinning and a nauseating feeling of weightlessness spreads all around her body. It's just like back in the EEU shuttles when Moira had crashed, everything happens so fast that she can't see a thing. She doesn't even have time to scream before she feels her body hitting something firm and prickly, stopping the movement.

Breathing heavily, J opens her eyes again and finds herself stuck on tree. High one on top of that. The fear overrules the confusion, preventing her from thinking of whys and hows, and she stays there frozen for a at least a minute before daring to move her arm. Her whole body feels just so light and it feels like she'll fly off from the slightest movement. It becomes clear that she won't be able to get down on her own.

Swallowing nothing, she carefully brings her both arms around the branch as she reaches for the MID and sends out a text message to the first -- ok, third-- person she can think of:]

tony you better dragthat useless ass ofyou rs to here right on this mnute.

text

[arcreact]

[ So, bullshit text exchanges with J are hardly anything new. Far from it, actually. But this seems like J-with-actual-urgency-involved, which is new and also kind of unsettling, because that's never really been a thing in his experience. ]

uh, okay
where is here
what did you do

[ And, Jesus, does he need the armor for this? ]

closed to Adrien (cw: blood, tied up)

[tearsinajar]

[ Elena couldn't be too sure how long she'd been unconscious for. An hour or two? Five? All she knew was the pain coming back and throbbing above her right brow as the thick haze gradually wore off and she remembered what had happened, the stickiness coating her skin and sticking to the side of her face where she lay in a small pool of her own blood. It came back to her then― the three children, the house they'd brought her to. She'd entered with them thinking their parents might have answers to some of the questions she had.

Boy had she been sorely mistaken.

Unsure if they'd left her alone or not, she dared to shift, wincing as she did so, stiff. The living room she'd been left in was empty and dimly lit with the sun setting outside; it was just her. Ears straining to listen for any sounds within the house, Elena held her breath, running through the possibilities on how to get out without being noticed.

Her hands flexed and it was then that she noticed the coarse rope tightly binding her wrists together. Their knots were good, for children that seemed so small. They were just not so smart, tying her hands in front of her rather than behind. This helped in maneuvering them to get her MID up, hissing under her breath to get her message across, keeping quiet as she activated it. ]

Adrien.
Adrien where are you?
Please tell me you're near some residential section.

[ Why he would be her first choice and not her husband? Nathan doesn't start at the top of the alphabet. ]

[prorenataa]

[ His response was not immediate. Hard to say where exactly he was or what he'd been doing when she contacted him. However, his response did come before she could scroll down to the Ds or wherever Nate was listed (H for hot stud muffin?) ]

Close enough. [ Which may have been code for 'I'll make it close enough'. ] You need me somewhere?

[ He tended to be rather straight and to the point when on text. Perhaps his generally paranoid nature meant he was jumping at shadows but he didn't expect Elena to be calling and asking for his location just for funsies. ]