[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

[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."

[notglitching]

There's a grinding scrape of irritation. A frustrated twitch of shoulders already sloped into a hunch. He doesn't bother with a more overt answer (he doesn't need to), but Rinzler's subtlety is definitely sitting comfortably at its normal, negative levels.

Not smoothly at all.

Tarn and Megatron are one example of crew damage. The admin Rinzler had gone to first had taken things a step more personal, coming to gloat about the moral righteousness of their decision when he'd been caged for his own kills. Refusing to delete threats was infuriating enough, but how could anyone charged with a system fail to see the difference?

Nothing and no one is worse than a virus.

Contacting Defense head.

Miller is an ally, even if their assessments don't always match up. More, he's a user, and one the user-admins assigned to run security. Maybe they'll listen to him. The disk snaps into place behind, and Rinzler stills briefly, a quiet rush of data swamping background processes as the last few days catch up.