[Player Plot] Indoctrination - Part 1

[beautifulspaceraptor]

Who: Everyone who wants in on this brainwashing/techno-zombie fun times!
When: 08-11.11.2016
Where: Around the Moira and in a room in the ILR
What: Mass Effect-style brainwashing/techno-zombie fun times!
Warnings: Brainwashing, potential body horror and techno-zombies!


Nihlus is halfway into dozing off in the lounge, when he sees her. He’s surrounded by a small pile of tablets and Blasto was on in the background, volume set to low enough that he could barely make out the dialogue. The light from the TV flickers over the walls, casting sharp, deep shadows with the ceiling lights turned off.

Benezia’s serene face stares back at him from the doorway and he blinks sleepily at her, letting a tablet fall out from his numb grip to clatter on the floor.

What a weird dream.

“Hey,” he says, and he might be crying, wobbling infrasonics making his jaw ache, throat closed on a sob. She smiles at him and Nihlus laughs in raspy resignation, sitting up and pushing off the couch to follow her.

The corridors are empty, silent, just the low hum of the ship’s systems, the sound of their footsteps, the whispering slide of the Matriarch’s fine robe trailing after her in a delicate wave. Eventually, they end up in the cargo bay, standing before a large crate with his name on in. He vaguely remembers a notice had arrived in the mail for him a few weeks back, but he’d been caught up with the species swap and… well. It’d slipped his mind.

Turning to Benezia, he finds the Asari watching him expectantly. She nods her head towards the crate.

Open it.

There’s a moment of hesitation, surreality settling over him in a blanket of white noise. What a weird, weird dream. Without really thinking about it, body moving on autopilot, Nihlus starts snapping the latches open, working his way around the crate until the lid is completely unlocked. Lifting it takes some effort and he grunts, sleep deprived muscle heavy and uncooperative.

Blue light spills over him, warm and welcoming, glimmering softly in the gloom and rooting him to the spot for a small eternity.



((OOC: Prommpts/starters are in the comments! If you have questions, ask them here!))

Comments

Indoctrination - (Semi-permanent Effect) - 09-11.11

[beautifulspaceraptor]

There is a sound in the walls. In the floor. In the very air around you. A distant ringing, a persistent tinnitus so sharp that it slides into your head like a needle attached to a tuning fork. It persists for hours and hours and slowly mellows out into a soft, almost musical note the more you listen to it.

Eventually it turns into voices, whispering to you, cooing to you from the edges of your dreams. At first, you don’t understand what they’re saying: it’s as if they’re speaking to you from the other side of a wall. You catch glimpses of words, pieces of conversations.

It persists. You start feeling eyes on you wherever you go, always, always on you, always watching. The voices get louder and louder until they drown out your thoughts and sometimes they’re so loud. Too loud. A constant raging, screaming background noise that threatens to split your head open.

Then you start… seeing things.

Glimpses of things that can’t be there. The walls breathe sometimes, the lights in the room seem to splinter into little pieces, flying in circles like insects. Out of the corner of your eyes, you catch sight of dark figures, featureless, twitching as if seizing, flickering in and out of existence. Other times they’re people, people you know, people you’ve dreamt about, people who aren’t on the ship- can’t be on the ship- and yet-

And yet-

The cacophony... clears. It’s like breaching the surface, breaking through to the cold air and into endless, starlit skies. The clarity is sudden and overwhelming, bright as a religious revelation.

You hear The Voice, vast and dark and unbearably beautiful.

Bring them to us, it breathes.

And it strikes you: your friends. Your co-workers. All of your shipmates. They need to hear this Voice too.

There’s a room in the ILR where the blue-lit Voice sings and you need to take them there.

Asriel Dreemurr | ota

[pleasereset]

It started off like a bad dream that Asriel couldn't wake up from. A painful ringing in his head, voices so loud that it made him want to curl up and scream. There were figures there - some terrifying, some comforting. He found himself chasing figures like Chara that would flicker in and out of his vision, or find himself curled up against a wall and pleading with an image of the man who tortured him from the Outpost.

He feels like he's going insane. What was wrong with him? Other than being human for a little while, nothing that terrible had happened. Maybe it was stress?

As he questions himself, tries to find some kind of relief - it happens. A Voice that can save him, protect him. And everyone else too.

Asriel plans on doing just that, walking up to anyone he sees with a bright, too cheerful smile spread across his face.

"Howdy! Are you busy right now? I wanna show you something really cool!"

[justice_from_above]

Pharah is trying something different today; wearing her armor, minus the jump jets. It's been something to get used to, and in her attempt to do so she almost misses when someone comes up and starts speaking to her.

She looks down at Asriel in confusion for a moment, wondering why she was singled out, but she's not one to be unnecessarily rude. She smiles back in response (though not as widely as his).

"I do have a free moment, what do you want to show me?"

[pleasereset]

"I can't say, it's more fun if I just showed you! I promise it'll be reeeally cool! You wanna see it?"

Asriel holds his hand out as an offer. Whatever the "thing" is, he sure is excited about it.

[justice_from_above]

"Alright, I guess it couldn't hurt."

Kids are easily excitable about things (Is he a kid? It's hard for her to tell). She chalks it up to youthful enthusiasm and takes his hand. "Take me to it, this really cool 'thing'."

[seeingscarlet]

It's nice to see Asriel happy after some of the situations they've been through. Wanda's still struggling with losing Pietro, Billy, and Tommy over the space of a month, to say nothing of her lost friends or the current condition of the ship.

If there's something off about Asriel, Wanda doesn't notice yet. Keeping the tiny layer of scarlet between herself and the floor occupies enough of her concentration to mask any oddities for now.

"Please tell me it's somewhere the floor is normal."

[pleasereset]

Asriel perks up at the sight of Wanda, and it only makes him more eager to show her his discovery. After all, he wants to help all his friends, just like the Voice helped him.

"Ha ha, I don't know about that, but it's definitely cool and you won't regret seeing it! Here, I'll show you!"

Asriel holds out a hand at her, beaming excitedly and a little impatiently.

[seeingscarlet]

Wanda gestures and the thin red shield extends to make room for Asriel to walk with her. "Aren't you getting tired? You will have to go a little slower but whatever is wrong with the ship won't hurt you on this."

What could possibly be so exciting in the midst of all this if not a safe place? Something's starting to seem a little off, but he seems so happy...

Han Solo ][ OTA!

[straightouttacarbonite]

At first he chalks it up to normal stresses-- the stale scent still lingering, giving him headaches, the low hum of the engines reverberating oddly. It's easy to write off because he needs to write it off. Han knows all too well that no one wants to hire a jumpy smuggler, so trying to keep his nerves under wrap is second nature, and most of the time, he succeeds.

Sort of.

The shapes in the corner of his vision-- it's nothing, it's just they've all been tense, that kind of thing takes its toll.

What's harder to ignore is the whispers. It seems like every time he turns around, someone's talking behind his back, and finally he whirls around to demand an answer.

"What did you say?"

---

Things get worse from there-- but then they get better, because it doesn't stop, but it starts making sense. He can't explain it, really; he just understands, and what a damn relief it is in the end to know that everything's going to be all right.

He goes about his business on the ship with a bright smile, more cheery and personable than ever, just waiting for the chance to explain what's got into him-- to share what he's learned.

[democratically]

Padmé had seen him, and while she might not know him that well yet, she would speak to him. Even if she knew him only a little, he had been important to Leia, and with Leia gone, Padmé could only imagine what it was that he was feeling. Were Anakin to leave... But she does not let that thought linger.

She is surprised by his actions, mouth open slightly. For a moment only, as concern flashes across her face. "I asked how you were doing."

[straightouttacarbonite]

There's something wild in his eyes. Leia-- but of course, it isn't her. It takes him a moment to make sense of things-- this headache, no wonder he can't see straight. Okay. Of course, it's Padmé.

"I-- I'm sorry," he mutters, rubbing at his temple. "Just a headache."

[democratically]

There is concern that flashes across her face. While she has met him under some strange circumstances, or perhaps questionable would be a better answer, he has never been quite so... Well, she's not entirely certain what to call it. Troubled?

"Did you need something? A cup of water? Help to the clinic?"

KYLO REN || OTA

[obumbravit]

He's been in people's minds so often it seems almost second nature, the sensation of pulling apart the folds of his enemies thoughts and the strange almost real but not quite sensation of reliving other people's memories. It was intimate and a rush, having that kind of power over someone. There was no fighting him, no resisting his will, and he knew the sensation of the mind resisting invasion like the back of his hand.

Even then it takes him a little to realize that sound wasn't real, the sharp buzzing that refused to leave his ears, no matter how much he tried to clear them. It feels almost like a knife, while his own technique (he felt) was elegant and surgical, this was nothing but a force pressing between the hemispheres of his brain, trying to overwhelm him.

Get out of my head! His lightsaber was not quite fixed, but he still intends to use it to kill whomever it is who's doing this, even if that means watching them choke on it. He can feel eyes following him as he tries to trace the origin of the noise, but the more he reaches after the threads of the noise the louder it gets, the more distracting. IT's almost like screaming. In every shadow he can see the ghosts of people he's killed.

It's so distracting that Kylo Ren doesn't even see the person who he runs into, the shock of the collision dragging him back to reality, where he reacts violently, grabbing at them with a snarl. "GET OUT."

[jedimindtrick]

Obi-Wan can sense the danger. The ship is abuzz, and because of that, the Force shudders with a nervous energy that keeps the Jedi Master on edge and on the move. He tracks Kylo, unwittingly, at first, following a sense of the familiar. He's fully aware of the presence of such a volatile and recently absent shadow — both Anakin and the Force had both been forthright in that reveal — but he has yet to cross paths with Ren despite Kenobi's penchant for walking the Moira's halls all hours of the day.

It does not escape him that the wraith he chases leaves plenty in his wake, like a downwind whiff of a scent that tells Obi-Wan more than he really needs to know, everything he's already guessed. The unbalanced fissure before him crackles, its edges alight with vapid anger, its new purpose to draw a line from one Ben to another. It's a much shorter line than expected.

Surprised by a flash a teeth and an echo of something unspoken — Get out of my head! — Kenobi very nearly answers with a closed fist before he reminds himself of several very good reasons not to cut down the statuesque figure that feels much smaller than he rightfully should.

"It isn't me," Obi-Wan says, his voice steady and over-strong. It isn't me, he reasserts through the Force just to show how very different that feels. His hands hold on to those fists, his chin holds high, and he doesn't back down (although he doesn't free himself either).

Husk Conversion (Permanent! Will most likely result in character death/resurge!) - 09-11.11

[beautifulspaceraptor]

There is a sound in the walls. In the floor. In the very air around you. A distant ringing, a persistent tinnitus so sharp that it slides into your head like a needle attached to a tuning fork. It persists for hours and hours and slowly mellows out into a soft, almost musical note the more you listen to it.

It brings you out of your sleep dead in the middle of the down cycle, calling out to you, a voice in the distance that almost sounds like your name but it’s too far away to tell. It takes you out of your room and down into the hallways, has you walking down the corridor of infinite rooms until you find yourself standing before an open doorway in a pool of dim light.

Initially, there’s nothing special: it looks like a storage room for various pieces of machinery. Some of them were stuck halfway into the walls and others just sat around with piles of scrap metal and rolls of wires strewn haphazardly over them.

In the middle of the room, however, there is a crate that is bolted to the floor. You can see blue light through the crack in its loosened lid.

Just before you could get close enough to touch it though, there’s a strangely flanged voice from behind you.

“It’s pretty late to be wandering around like this.”

There’s a Turian standing in the doorway a steaming cup of tea in one hand, decked out in dark civvies. His eyes are slanted in a tired, but warm smile.

“What are you doing in here?”

Kidnapping - (For people who have been turned into Husks) - 09-11.11

[beautifulspaceraptor]

It’s not usual for people to disappear on the Moira. You wake up to the empty bed of a roommate who hasn’t appeared for days or you go to your designated job and find a co-workers not shown up. Friends, family or lovers that never turn up at their usual places, the meetings you promised.

They just vanish into thin air.

But you?

You didn’t disappear.

You remember blue light, a warm, glassy smoothness under your fingers and then- a searing brightness, burning off all traces of doubt, of weakness. Of personhood. You’re shattered, turned into a vessel of pure illumination as your thoughts and memories pour out of each and every crack to make room for it.

And now you’re here.

It’s wrong. There’s something wrong. There’s a metallic sheen to your skin that hadn’t been there before, glowing circuitry where your flesh had been torn open. Your hair comes off in clumps and your fingernails flake off if you tug at them too hard. You try to chase down this wrongness but there’s nothing there, a growing hollowness that’s eating away at everything that'd made you alive before.

Fortunately, there’s not a lot of time to reflect on this. The Voice fills your head and you feel whole in a way that you’d never dreamt of before and it gives you a single, wonderful instruction.

Bring them to us.

[beautifulspaceraptor]

Closed to Tony (Comics) - 07.11

Nihlus slips in and out of their room like a ghost for the most part. Asides from the brief span of time where he didn't have roommates, the Turian treated the room more as a storage space than a place to sleep.

Today's no different- although there is a pause as he raises a brow plate at the increasing amount of machinery and bits that were beginning to accumulate on his roommate's side of the place.

"Tony," Nihlus greets, a little bit of amusement in his tones as he steps over a pile of tools. "I didn't realize your workshop had been moved up here."


Closed to Rinzler - 08.11

It's deep in the middle of the sleep cycle and the cargo bay is almost completely empty. Nihlus is waiting at the fabricator, humming a cheerful little tune as he works, one that seems somewhat at odds with the eerie quiet of the place.

There's a cart next to him, full of different parts of some kind of machinery. An engineer who was familiar with Mass Effect technology would probably recognize them as pieces for a large shield generator.

Nihlus is hedging his bets on Rinzler not knowing.

It was an odd hour for a disk sync, but it wasn't like either of them had regular sleeping schedules. Or any sleeping schedule at all for that matter.

8th!

[notglitching]

Sleep is for programs that can afford to shut down. Or, just possibly, those less afraid to. But whatever hazards come with dreams (with memories), the contamination slowly creeping across the ship has kept Rinzler more than busy.

He'd have expected that to apply to both of them. But Nihlus' humming is audible from approach, an odd contrast to Rinzler's own quiet rumble. The enforcer's black helmet angles to the side as he approaches, curiosity and status-query both on clear display.

[beautifulspaceraptor]

The approaching, familiar rumble draws Nihlus out of his work, fiddling with one of the models on the fabricator's holo interface.

"Rinzler," he greets, locking the screen before turning to face the program. "Sorry about the early call, but I suspect it's going to be a bit hectic these next few days. Lots of things to keep an eye on with this rot going around"

As he speaks he pulls Rinzler's disk out of his jacket (he's in civvies tonight).

"You been busy?"

[notglitching]

The screen gets a slight glance, but Rinzler's focus doesn't linger. Especially with the topic at hand. The rise in his sound as Nihlus references the 'rot' is immediate and irritated, and if the nod he answers with holds no aggression toward Nihlus, it's easy to tell the enforcer is Not Pleased. A quick gesture calls his MID display to life.

Compiling data on viral threat.

Maybe this time, the admins will listen. Fourth... fifth... somethingth try's the charm? The program's frame shifts, frustration crawling through every line as he reaches out for the disk.

[beautifulspaceraptor]

Viral threat.

There's a flicker of something in Nihlus's expression, but it's there and gone again. Thrumming contemplatively, he watches Rinzler dock, crossing his arms and leaning his hip against the workbench.

"Not going too smoothly, I assume?"

Not that Rinzler's making his feelings on the state of things really obvious or anything.

And considering the fact that the Captains still let Megatron and Tarn stay on the ship despite the damage their fight had done? Nihlus isn't particularly optimistic about Rinzler's case against the local ship-rotter. None of them seemed particularly onboard with the crew/self-preservation thing.

"Might be better off starting on organizing the crew instead of petitioning them. Otherwise, he might have another instance of the fight with the Caducans. They seem to respond better to more of the crew being onboard anyways."

closed to peter. later to shepard and rinzler (CW: shooting and character death)

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

It's strange how everything seemed to simply make sense now. It was like everything is clear, good, safe and just right.

There had been voices. First they had sounded awfully lot like the people she had once known back in her own world. She hadn't been able to make out of what they were saying but the whispers sounded nothing taunting and almost threatening. She could tell that they wanted her to do something, to go somewhere. However, the true nightmare had started when the faces had appeared to the walls, screaming and tormenting her. She had felt like her head was going to explode and that she'd finally turn insane.

But then it had all cleared out. A new Voice had come and silenced all other sounds around her with its calm and soothing tone. No longer had she heard the whispers or blaming cries -- even the constant background noise of Moira's engines were gone. All she could hear was the comforting Voice talking to her, like a long lost friend. It told her to go, inviting her to come to it. And oh, how could have she reject someone so kind?

And that's how she ended up with this light and enlightenment feeling. All the ghosts of the past had disappeared and everything just seemed so small and meaningless compared to this Voice. Everyone needs to hear about it and join her with finding it.

Listening to the Voice she lets her feet to take her to ILR corridor. She finds herself standing behind a closed door, one that she doesn't remember seeing open ever before. Her hand finds the handle and as she pushes the door open she's instantly greeted by a bright, piercing light. Just for a moment J just stands there without moving a muscle and watches straight to the light. It feels like time has suddenly frozen. Then, she feels a new, weird sensation growing inside her. The understanding and light heartiness towards the Voice is still there, if anything the light only makes them stronger, but the love and fondness are dripping away from her and replaced with something completely new. A weird mixture of emptiness and need to protect.

Without thinking, she closes the door and walks to the end of the corridor where Mr. Miles' previous office was located to. J had taken liberty to claim the room as her own after his departure. While it technically served as her own workroom she mostly used it to store different kind of items. Like her parents' gun for an example. Once she's inside she walks right to the bookshelf and pulls out few folders and other papers, throwing them right on the floor, and grabs the gun that's been hidden behind them. Her movements are almost robotic as she checks the bullets and then loads it -- just like Shepard had taught her.

She's so focused on her task that she fails to notice how the color slowly disappears from her, making her skin more sickly grey. Or how the shine fades away from her hair as it turns more thin and lifeless. Or maybe it's not that she doesn't notice it but rather that she doesn't care anymore.

After she's done with checking the gun she hides it underneath the knitted jacket she's wearing, tightening the robe around her and exits the room not caring about the mess she leaves behind. Just as she steps outside of the office and closes the door behind her she spots a familiar figure on the hallway.

"Peter!" She calls out cheerfully and strides towards him with open arms, overjoyed that he's here now. Maybe he's heard the Voice too? And if not? Well, he shouldn't be too difficult to convert. "I'm so happy to see you here."

[takeitslow]

It's still a little strange to hear her say his name so excitedly after months of silence and awkward feelings. But it's not a bad kind of strange, it puts a smile on Peter's face and a little fluttering back in his stomach. He'd been stupid to think that a few months apart would be enough to get over and untangle from the complicated ties between them. Things are exactly healed, but he welcomes any sign of normalcy.

Peter pivots on his heel, quip ready and dying at his lips when he gets a good look at her. Her smile is a juxtaposition to her sickly pallor, but he can't help that part of his mind first jumps to the panicked idea of whisking J straight out to the medbay. It's only that he's afraid she might hit him that Peter stays put.

"Happy, huh?" Peter starts, smile shades more cautious. He can't stop glancing at the graying tone of her skin, the paleness underneath her careful makeup. He still takes a few steps to meet her, hand reaching out for her arm automatically. Worried or not, if she's looking for some physical contact he'll give it. "You're acting like you haven't seen me in ages instead of around the mess hall last night. Is something up?"

'Are you okay' is what he means to ask. It's already sitting on his tongue as a follow up. As happy as she might look, he's still anticipating an argument in the very near future when he insists she get one of the doctors on board to check her out.

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

Oh. The lack of enthusiasm in and the question clarifies it. He hasn't heard the Voice yet and J can't help but feel disappointed as she slides her hand along his arm to behind his back. But then again, this is Peter and it really seems to be in his nature to keep disappointing her, one way or another.

And it's not too late yet. All she needs to do is show him, right?

She raises to her tiptoe to place a quick kiss on his cheek. There's no softness in her skin and her lips feel cold metallic, almost rash against him. "Far too long," she chirps, hollow voice imitating sweetness. Then she jerks her head towards the other side of the hallway and nudges him to come along.

"Now come, love. I found something extraordinary that you'll have to see. "

[takeitslow]

The kiss sends a near shudder down his spine and not for any good reasons. It doesn't feel right, nothing about the situation feels quite right. There's an odd feeling clinging to Peter, hairs standing on end. It's not enough to make him untangle from her, but his expression sits uneasy. "I thought I was the impatient one."

The joke lacks much punch, and his expression only grows more unsure as she speaks. Love? Since when was he back to getting pet names from her? Since when has she ever been giving him pet names? In any other circumstance he'd just think she was trying to sweeten him into a favor. This doesn't quite feel like that.

"Okay." He lets her press him along across the hall. Maybe he's just being ridiculous. Not enough sleep the night before, or anxiety still left over from events of the past few months. Maybe he's just starting to crack. Peter tries to muster more enthusiasm in his voice. "What exactly are you showing me? Do I get any hints?"