( event )

[hownkai]

Who: The crew of the Moira
When: 9/18 to 9/30
Where: Planet and ship
What: Main event; all info inside
Warnings: Effects from Exuo, heavy and graphic themes

PENUMBRA

"Into the darkness they go..."

As the crew enters its third week aboard the Moira, the majority of supplies have been gathered, and everyone will find themselves with more free time than before. The marketplace has offered numerous diversions, as well as the opportunity to trade for items they need or want. Life on the Moira is relatively peaceful, and there have been no unusual occurrences. Excursions onto the planet have yielded an invaluable resource called Exuo, which has been determined to be a rare mineral that is used for multiple purposes. A general awareness has spread among those aboard the Moira that, while it is used as an additive to food and drink, resulting in a slightly elevated change in demeanor and leaving a person feeling generally better, it is also in the air they breathe. The effects of Exuo will vary from person to person.

Yet...

Things have started to change. The once vibrant sunlight that hasn’t given anyone a moment’s reprieve is now slowly beginning to disappear, and with it, a shadow is being cast across the horizon. The red dust is more noticeable now than ever, blanketing every surface, and the planet’s true grunge surfaces.

☄THE EMPTY MARKET

The hustle and bustle of the marketplace has slowly started to taper off, leaving behind empty stalls and hastily closed up shops. What visitors the crew have encountered are no longer so friendly; they won’t say a word as to where they are going or why. All that’s left are the few things they could not carry with them to their own ships before leaving. But is it worth the peculiar looks the natives are giving as you traverse the now quiet streets to take them? What is this abrupt feeling of unease weighing down on your shoulders?

The only living things that remain, aside from them, are the members of the Moira, but it’s not a comforting notion, especially if you step into the ever-growing shadows.

☄THE NATIVES

With light dwindling quickly, nothing is safe anymore. Those people with the plain masks and hoods worn to hide their faces? They’re not so quiet and not so friendly now. Their behavior drastically deteriorates the darker it becomes, shifting from harmless and complacent to feral and dangerous. They lash out at anyone who gets too close, and they don’t hesitate to drag away those foolish enough to get closer. And those masks and hoods? They, too, have been tossed aside with the slow setting of those distant stars.

● Aside from physical outbursts, some of them may be found trying to damage the transporters to prevent return to the Moira.
● Their mouths appear sunken in, stained red like the Exuo this planet is known for. Or is that something else soaked into their skin? Are you sure all those visitors made it back to their own ships? Their small black eyes never seem to close either.
● They are thin in stature but relatively strong. It will take more than one person to overpower them.
● If approached, they will retaliate with sharp nails and teeth. Their movements are aggressive, meant to disable but not kill.
● Killing the natives comes with no reprimand from the captains.

☄PURLOIN & OBLATION

The suns have eclipsed.

What light there is can only be found through artificial sources, and with the lack of light also comes alterations in the crew’s own mood. Where MIDs had detected a decrease in stress and increase in endorphins, that is no longer the case now. Some may find themselves irritable for no reason, while others are torn between fits of paranoia and excessive anger. The pleasant sweetness of the Exuo in the air has dissipated, leaving a staleness behind, and those that have been exposed longer to the surface of the planet suffer extensively more than those who have not left the safety of the Moira for extended periods of time.

However, most crew members will find themselves desperate to return to the empty marketplace or even the mines. Perhaps they are in search of more Exuo, or maybe they simply want to find those natives to question them or take out that aggression on something not so fragile. During this time, disappearances are more noticeable than ever, and those who go in search of friends and crew may find more than they bargained for.

●the seized: The darkness is unerringly quiet, and the natives that still linger on the planet have faded away with the sun. Maybe you find yourself in the deserted marketplace, or outside the wreckage of a transporter that’s been torn apart. The sounds you hear come from your left and grow steadily louder beside you. The sudden irritability that the crew has been experiencing multiplies and transforms into a paranoia that leaves you wanting to beg for the sun to return. Thin but strong arms wrap around you, long fingers with sharp nails dig into your skin. They don’t speak, or attack with the intent to hurt you, merely pull you away and back into the shadows. Whether you struggle or fight back doesn’t matter, try to get free.
●the subjugated: With your arms and feet bound, you wake up in an unfamiliar place. It may be hard to remember where you were last, or it may be crystal clear. You were taken by a group of the planet’s natives, tied up and thrown into a hollowed out pit in the ground. The dirt smells sickeningly sweet, metallic, and it overpowers your senses. There are others around you, both crew members from the Moira and people you might recognize from the marketplace. You know now that the disappearances weren’t random, or normal, and are the result of the natives capturing explorers and traders for their own unknown reasons. **
●the scarified: They want the the light back. This much is clear now. The natives believe their sun was stolen, and the only way to guarantee its return is through offering worthy sacrifices. With whatever dim lighting there is, you make out the shape of an altar slathered in something wet and dark. You are on your knees beside others that were chosen, waiting in line to be sacrificed. The person ahead of you is lifted and carried to the altar, and with the natives gathered together,chanting growing louder, there are quick movements before everything goes still all at once. Are you next? Or has someone come to save you?

The only reprieve from this nightmare is the familiar sound of the Moira’s transporter ships landing nearby. The crew has banded together and are on their way to free you. **

☄ASCENSION

The planet is no longer safe. Through a series of disturbing events, it has become clear that the crew cannot stay. Supplies has been gathered, hopefully enough to last until they can find another place to dock, and the captains, through the MID devices and in person, are ushering everyone back to the ship. It is imperative that everyone board swiftly so that they can make a hasty retreat. There is nothing left for anyone here.

( ooc; ** These options are for those who signed up for the event. All other characters are encouraged to rescue their crewmates from these situations as quickly as possible! For questions and/or plot, go here. )

Comments

Eggsy Unwin | ota

[commontype]

☄ the empty market: The rine in spine sties minely in the pline.

[Eggsy's no expert, but he knows something ain't right. He's spent most of his time on planet, doing his job, and just generally taking a look about. So he notices when everyone's gone. The stalls are empty, ships have left, but the one thing that strikes him the most funny is that stuff was left behind.

People don't do that. That's something that goes across all the universes, he thinks. People ain't the types to just be leaving stuff that's theirs. Especially if they were trying to sell it for money. It makes him uneasy, and he's not one to keep quiet when he's uncomfortable.]

Fuck's goin' on?

[He's not talking to a native, even though they keep creeping by, but to another crew member from the Moira who is close enough to speak to.]

☄ the natives: I sold flowers; I didn't sell myself.

[What the fuck.]

What am I supposed to do with a fuckin' whip?

[His voice is raised but he's not actually talking to anyone in particular. He's just angry that he'd asked for a weapon and the captain had given him a whip. The Fuck? But he's resourceful and adaptable if he's anything, so he brandishes that thing with finesse that just doesn't seem like it should belong to him.

Eggsy's great with gun, top marks there, but he's a Kingsman and a Kingsman Agent can make do with any weapon he's given.]

Fuck yeah!

[The crack of the whip is loud, and the responding sound he makes is a happy one, as it hits its mark and knocks one of the natives back. They were attacking a transporter and when he'd confronted them, they'd attacked him instead. He's got a scratch on his arm, and he's hoping that more of the crew show up to help.]

Tony Stark (MCU)

[narcissistictendencies]

☄ Marketplace: "Sink for you to swim, dancing on the ledge"

Tony, much to his dismay when he finds out the correlation, has spent a decent amount of time on the surface of the planet. He enjoyed mingling and he enjoyed the new experiences. He enjoyed the new foods and he enjoyed the opportunities the trades offered. The vendors were fairly pleasant and the locals were strange, but didn't seem hostile. At least while the suns shone in the sky. The eclipse was odd, something else interesting about the planet apart from the sweet air. But upon his return, a headache was developing and his mood was sharply declining. Somehow, that drove him to the planet, but it didn't seem to help. There was a distinct lack of sweetness in the air with the eclipse and the surface seemed to be a ghost town.

He happened upon a hostile and a well-laced repulsor blast incapacitated the bug-eyed creepy little alien. Were these the locals? Was this what they looked like behind the masks? He didn't like that idea any, but he thought it was probably time to get the hell out of Dodge. Another encounter cut him off from his transport.

"Okay Gollum. I'm in a real shitty mood and you're in my way." The repulsor was aimed out in front of him again. It had been detached from his suit and snapped into a housing he scrapped together that latched onto the MID over the back of his hand. It rested nicely in his palm, as it did in the suit. It was controlled through the neural link and subcutaneous micro-computers implanted throughout his body. A small bracelet-like attachment that fit snug against his wrist provided it with power, also scrapped out of his suit. "I should've known better than to take candy from strangers."

☄ Mines: "Hard time forgiving, even harder forgetting"

So heading back to the Moira was a bit of a bust. He decided he'd put his aggression and frustration to good use, going to help fight and see if he could help out any other crewmates. People could be trapped or isolated with less fighting experience than his. He'd happened across a gun with only four bullets and a completely useless broken bottle. Seriously. If he got close enough to use the latter, whatever he was fighting would kick his ass before he could use it. And four bullets? Someone must think they're funny, because he can't hit the broad side of a barn without targeting software. He edged towards the rocks, gun in one hand, repulsor in the other, leaning around the corner.

"Anyone in there? I'm kicking ass and taking names today, so if someone wants a path back to the transporters, I'm your guy."

☄ Mess (for 616 Tony): "Before you do something, you might regret, friend"

This... whatever it was was driving Tony Stark crazy! He'd only been back from the planet for two hours since the suns went dark and he felt oddly like he was trying to crawl out of his own skin. FRIDAY warned him that his stress levels were alarmingly high, releasing a specific stress hormone into his system in response. He became increasingly irritable and metaphorically itchy. He lost focus and snapped at people he called friends. ...worse than usual. He even muted FRIDAY and fled his room and abandoned his attempts to sleep. As if on auto-pilot, he found himself in the mess hall, working on muscle memory to find a cure for this issue. The cure came in a hideously coloured liquid with an even worse taste. He tucked himself off in a corner and downed a whole cup before he saw another person. Whatever it was, was stronger than anything he'd ever had before. He considered himself a high-functioning alcoholic, but this was insane.

Head down, propped into his hands, he stared down at the cup, well into his second, reflecting on several choices he'd made today. Terrible, awful choices. He was fighting the urge to return to the planet and question the natives. Had they put something in his food? Was this a common side-effect of something in the fruit, maybe?

---

[OOC: Bracket or Prose, idc which. If you wanna tag him elsewhere, feel free to give me your own starter.]

[definingfuture]

[Tony had been stupid. He'd trusted the venture down to the planet enough to leave his armor behind for a trip, and even though he hadn't spent that much time exposed on the surface, he was paying for it now. The sweetness in the air had made him feel invigorated and in better spirits than he had been in some time during his exploration, but that should have been the first warning sign of trouble. Thinking back now, he was an idiot.

Damn it.

He's wearing the armor again now. Even though it's too late to take back his mistake, Tony is covering up while he can. He's too aware of the fact he's sweating and unsteady as he sneaks out of his room and into the mess hall. He tries not to think about why he's there, telling himself that it's only to get out of the cramped shared space, so no one else sees him looking like a wreck-

And then he realizes that he's not the only one in the room. His body tenses when he realizes who he's looking at and what the other man has in his hand, and the words are out before he even thinks about it.]

What the hell are you doing?

[banknotable]

[ Somebody has been paying exceptionally little attention to the duties at hand, ever since they got ferried down to a place that had Other Ships Take Off From Here written in the brochure.

...Okay, so the brochure didn't say that, and there wasn't a brochure in the first place, but point being, Fiona's been looking for a way to get the hell out of her new job slash kidnapping. Success on that front has been mixed. Good news is, there's plenty of people leaving, and with a little charm (and/or a bribe in the form of a shitton of kazoos, but that option's somewhere around Escape Plan Theta) Fiona might be one of 'em.

The bad news got Fiona slammed against the other side of that transporter, sharp nails juuuuust a bit closer to her eyes than she likes 'em. Catches sight of a "fellow crewmember" just 'round the corner though. ]

Jh--

[ Her hands clutch tightly around the masked maniac's wrist, trying to keep hi- his? fingers at bay. Just for that effort Fiona gets jerked closer suddenly, and slammed into the side of the transporter all over again. Look what's finally starting to feel like home. And internal bleeding.

So... same thing, basically. ]

Just wrap it 'round their neck and choke 'em!

[ She jerks up her knee, a little something to keep a respectable distance between her and those teeth, though it looks like she's looking at a very temporary solution there. ]

Hey! Hey, go on, try it on this one, maybe-- Maybe right now!

mines please

[banknotable]

She had a deal, she had a deal. Didn't care 'bout their mission, just needed to find somebody to get her off this planet and back home. And she did! Some old traveler, lady apparently wanted to hang on to her trading business by the skin of her false teeth. Said she could use some spare hands to lug a few crates, wouldn't mind an extra passenger in exchange.

Crates were still here now, but the lady was gone. Made things kinda tense and kinda unpleasant, not last or least of all 'cause of the places her search ended up taking her, or the Unfriendly Locals who made getting outta those places kinda more trouble than she thought it was gonna be.

Now. Now, Fiona's pretty decent with a gun. At times when a gun is a thing she has, which currently isn't exactly the case at all. Can make do with a bunch of other projectiles too though, at least when she's gotta. All things considered she thinks that those footsteps near her way out are reason enough that she's gotta.

Which, long story short, is why there's a kazoo flying at Tony's head from the shadows of the mine, before he can even get a word out.

[narcissistictendencies]

He was using the repulsor's ambient glow as a light source. It was no torch, but it did illuminate his immediate surroundings. On the downside of that, it made for a very effective target in the dark. Fortunately, as he opened his mouth to speak, it also cast small flashes of light off the metallic body of the kazoo when the item began hurtling towards him. It gave him enough time to react, throwing his arms up to protect his head. The metal instrument ricochetted off his forearm, which would undoubtedly leave a nasty bruise, and straight up into the air. When the item came back down, it conked him right in the head. The good news? His forearm sustained the full impact of the throw, leaving the falling kazoo to drop on his head with nothing more than a few seconds worth of falling speed. No where near terminal velocity, thank goodness.

"Ow!" Tony yelped in annoyed, delayed fashion. He picked up the item and looked it over then cast a glare into the inky dark mine. "Really?! Fine! Stay in the cave. See if I care." He grumped and turned to start walking away, but his common sense caught up with him and told him that he didn't mean it. The edge in his voice was still the nagging effects of withdrawal and it was hampering his good judgement. So he stopped, sighed heavily, and turned back to the cave. "Last chance, Bullseye. You want help off this planet or not? And so help me, if I see another flying instrument, I will," He shook a finger at the mouth of the mine, groping for a good threat. "...do something! And it won't be nice! Avenger or no Avenger, dammit!" Yes, great save, Stark. Now reel that tempter in.

[commontype]

[You know what Eggsy likes? Dogs. You know what else he likes? Right fit birds that kick ass. He doesn't have one of those here, but he's just stumbled across the other.

At her suggestion, he's thinking it might actually be a good thing that he's got this whip, he does just that. Well, sorta. He grasps each end of the whip in a hand, pulling it taut.]

Now!

[Eggsy does this little kick thing, which is pretty fucking cool even though it was an accident that he'd claim he did on purpose, that knocks the feet out from under one of the natives. Then he's next to the woman, behind the native, lifting and dropping his arms so the whip hooks just under its chin.

And he yanks, hard.]

I hope you gotta gun. [Cause he's been kicking and hitting for what feels like hours and it's not doing anything. He twists his hands to increase the pressure of the leather, pulling even harder against the struggling alien.] Or somethin'!

marketplace;

[commontype]

Looks like somethin' outta a sci-fi flick. Never thought I'd actually be seein' aliens.

[Eggsy, which it's fucking strange to say the least, isn't feeling right. He's moody and angsty, and he kind of hates that he's here and not home. He also really wants a red bull, that usually peps him up. Yeah, yeah. He knows they ain't good for you.

He figures his nasty mood has something to do with this place, the planet, and all that. Cause he's been keeping an eye on things and had come to the conclusion, with some help, that there was something off. Some kind of drug or something in the air.]

Where'd ya get that?

[He points at Tony's wrist.]

[narcissistictendencies]

[He hears the voice before he sees the owner, looking up almost startled at first to see the armoured being standing there. Armour so familiar yet so unfamiliar. A different design to be sure. Then his muddled mind makes sense of it; this is the other Tony. He huffs and rolls his eyes, dropping his gaze back down to the alcohol between his hands. He'd take Cap's or even Pepper's disapproving tones right now over his own.]

What does it look like I'm doing, hot shot?

[The glass is held so tightly between his hands now that it might actually give, but then he lets go and pushes it away.]

Taking the edge off. Getting rid of the damned... whatever is wrong with me. Friday said it looks like withdrawal symptoms of heavy drug use. Thank you, somehow that planet has turned me into a heroin addict! So why the hell not?

[narcissistictendencies]

[Tony turns upon hearing that voice, raising an eyebrow.]

Where you been the last week or so, kid? We're kinda trapped in a sci-fi 'flick', or hadn't you noticed?

[Tony, be nice. He rolls his eyes, grits his teeth, then forces back the twitchy annoyance that's bubbled up in him since the eclipse started.]

Made it. Repulsor technology. [He waves his fingers at Eggsy then moves his hand, aiming it at an upturned cart, giving it a small, low-power blast that sends the cart careening a few feet.] Started out as a flight stabiliser, then turned into a defensive... weapon. It's... what I do back home.

You hurt?

[He's ignoring the alien for now as it seems to just be seething at them and conveniently standing in the way of their exit.]

[commontype]

Eh, bein' on the ship's sorta like bein' on a big plane, gramps.

[His lips quirk, it was the first amusing thing to happen to him all day.]

I mean, all the other stuff's different, but ain't nothin' that couldn't have happened. Now that. [He jerks his thumb towards the native.] That's not somethin' I could've seen in my every day life.

[Then they're talking about his weapon and that he built it. Eggsy thinks it's pretty amazing that someone can do stuff like that.]

What? No fuckin' way. You can make stuff like that?

[He frowns, looking down at himself. Eggsy rolls his shoulders, kicks his legs. Yeah, everything's working.]

Nah. Are you?

[narcissistictendencies]

[Oh, the indignant look Eggsy gets for calling him 'gramps', but there's still amusement there.]

There's an alien or two on the ship, you just aren't looking in the right places. Met the human-hating cat yet? She's a trip, but she's interesting. Definitely interesting.
That, [He motions to the alien.] I've seen something along those lines before. Creepy aliens, anyway.

[But he smirks when Eggsy shows his appreciation for the tech.]

I'm a big name in the industry back home. Tony Stark. What about you, Oliver Twist? You have a name, right?

[He's edging around the alien slowly, giving him a wide perimeter so it doesn't feel too threatened.]

Nah, I'm good. Just a splitting headache and possibly withdrawal symptoms. You headed back or out for some fun?

Tron | OTA

[fight4theusers]

[Purloin and Oblation: The Seized/Subjugated]

The darkness had felt more natural to Tron. Free from the unerring, oppressive heat and light, he was able to move more freely on the strange planet, his optics more accustomed to the dimness and neon. The glow from his own circuits covered by his uniform and newly-acquired gloves, he felt as though he could go unnoticed in this darkness, able to explore without fear of overclocking or overheating as before. Artificial light was soothing, now, as opposed to the harsh, unending light from the glowing orbs in the sky. Tron wasn't sure he would ever be used to those.

Still, Tron couldn't explain why he felt the need to go back planet-side, even with the more familiar darkness draped over the land. He needed to go back, needed to get out of the ship, out of the stale air and confining walls. Back on the planet, he immediately felt better, drawing in the cooler, sweeter air as he moved through the dark.

Lost in the feeling, Tron almost didn't notice the shadows moving around him. Walking toward a more familiar area of the marketplace, Tron suddenly found himself surrounded, hooded figures stepping out from doorways, alleyways, every dark crevasse, seeming to ooze right out of the black. Hands grasped, reaching for Tron's arms, clutching at his ankles, sliding around his waist before he could move to break free. Discs drawn, Tron jerked away, the glow from his weapons illuminating the creatures in flickering, wavering flashes. Hisses and cries filled the air as he struck out, the beings seemingly more frightened of the light than the cutting edges, shadows ducking and melting away as he fought. One disc, then another thrown in crossing arcs, slicing through the mass of bodies, but more took their place, unending, reaching, grasping, overwhelming... Tron's discs returned to his hands, and he struck out again, a red haze settling over his vision, a broken sound rattling in his chest. Fight, attack, finish the game...

When the shadows finally buried him, Tron's discs fell from his hands, flickering blue-red-blue before darkening completely.

Tron came back online, a slow blink of his eyes and a dull pulse of his circuits under his clothing the only indication that he was now conscious. Lying on his side, he shifted faintly, awareness returning slowly along with the realization that his hands were tied behind him at the wrists with a rough but sturdy binding, his feet at the ankles with the same. Moving slowly, he pushed himself upright, leaning against the damp wall behind him and blinking again.

His discs were gone. Worrisome. But that was secondary... escape needed to be the primary concern at the moment, for himself as well as... the others here. He wasn't alone, and he recognized several of the other captured occupants of this rudimentary cell.

"Are you injured at all?" he asked the person nearest him, shifting further upright.

[Escape/Rescue]

Working with the others, Tron had managed to free his hands and feet as well as those of the other captives, but there still seemed to be no way out of this cell or pit in which they were trapped. Utter darkness surrounded them, and Tron kept his circuits hidden as best he could, not wanting to draw uneccesary attention to himself.

What had begun as a quiet sound in the background had now become a steady, rhythmic chanting... the natives apparently preparing a ritual, for which the captives were unfortunately going to play a central part. And there were fewer now. It had been difficult to notice at first, but steadily, one by one, the captives were disappearing, taken, pulled through hidden exits without so much as a sound.

Tron would not make it so easy for them when they came for him. Accustomed to the dark, he peered into the blackness around him, waiting for any sign of movement from the surrounding walls.

[commontype]

[He'd met Garrus. Thought he was a fine fella, an alien, but he still wasn't something he was used to. He wasn't one to judge though, people was people.]

That's just different, yeah? Like they don't seem nice or friendly or fuck, not even talkative.

[Which he thinks would help them some.]

Tony Stark? You kiddin' me? [His eyes go comically wide.] Like Iron Man? [He rolls his eyes, taking a step closer, hands out.] There's Loki here and Billy who's an avenger. Guy even said Captain Fuckin' America is here, too.

[He was kind of blown away, but back to the matter at hand.]

Oliver Twist. Clever. I'm Eggsy and I'm glad you're alright. Well, was headed back, but if you're lookin' for some fun maybe we can get into something together.

[narcissistictendencies]

Hey, at least they aren't actively trying to kill us yet. That's always fun. And by fun, I mean that's the farthest thing from fun.

[Talking might help some, but he has a feeling these feral little boogers aren't going to be much fun either. He'll try to avoid killing any of them if he can, but he can't guarantee much if they start attacking people.

The kid's reaction, on the other hand, earns him a lopsided smirk.]

Yeah. Like Iron Man. That would be me. [He was hoping not to run into Loki here, but so far he hadn't seen the familiar face, so he was going to assume it was a different one.] Don't let Rogers hear you call him Captain Fuckin' America. Strong language ruffles his delicate sensibilities. [Nope. Never letting that go. Ever.] You want an introduction, I'm sure I can swing that.

Thank you, Eggsy. Pleasure. [He holds a hand out for a formal greeting, still too amused the kid knows him.] And as a matter of fact, I was looking to have a little fun. Destress. Round up some of the missing crew and heard them back to the ship what with the sci-fi horror show going on down here, I think they might need a helping hand. Sound good to you?

[definingfuture]

[Even in the armor, Tony visibly bristles at the answer he gets. That alcohol-laden tone is one he knows all too well and it makes his throat feel dry almost in sympathy to the need, but the sarcasm just hits him wrong.]

Making a mistake.

[He answers back with a harsher tone. Stern. The voice he tries to use when he's playing Authority as the Director of SHIELD. Not quite the level of smooth confidence Nick Fury always has, but Tony can be commanding when he really wants to be. At least the other Tony pushes the cup away. He's concerned--the man is a version of himself--but that does show some control. More than he has, he thinks.]

That isn't helping. You need to come with me- get away from here. We have to find everyone else. Tony.

[Unlike his double, who seems dejected and sullen from the withdrawal, he's tense and uneasy, almost trembling like a trapped animal trying to intimidate any potential dangers.]

[narcissistictendencies]

[That authoritative tone, in turn, makes Tony bristle. He always takes so well to being told what to do, and if his mind was clearer, he might have had a sharp word or two on that note. Instead, he hinges on his favourite old crutch; self-depreciation.]

So what else's new? That's what I'm known for, did you know?

[His words are surprisingly clear, though slowly spoken. When the other Tony continues, he rolls his eyes. He pushes away from the table, but doesn't stand just yet, only stares accusingly at the empty space between himself and the glass. It was hard. Very hard not to pick it back up.]

Isn't it? How would you know what helps me? You're me, but we're not the same. You with your level head and calm words and--and gorgeous eyes. I'm the screw-up even compared to alternate me. What the hell do you know?

[But he lifts his gaze back up and fixes it on the faceplate of the other Tony's suit. Despite his argumentative nature, he does stand, albeit a bit shakily. Was it just him or did this other Tony seem like a natural leader? But something the other Tony said tugs at him a bit and it was probably the only reason he didn't fight him off.]

People are missing?

Garrus Vakarian

[turianrebel]

☄PURLOIN & OBLATION; the seized

[turianrebel]

[Garrus stands uneasy before torn hatch of a crashed transporter and into the darkness of it's midsize hull. The wreckage was discovered earlier during a routine patrol of the area and it must have been Garrus lucky day to earn in on the assignment to investigate and salvage anything of worth on the downed vessel.]

I still don't like this.

[He admits bitterly with heavy emphasis on the layover on this planet. From the start of their descent Penumbra's world combined with it's even more stranger than before natives left Garrus feeling more uneasy than he had ever felt facing off against the reapers or the collectors. He had just opted into staying on the ship and locking himself away to work in the gunnery when he had been volunteered to join this team's recovery efforts.

Something isn't right.

The thought crosses his mind just in time to distract him from catching the thinly framed shadow that skirts along the perimeter and out of sight. Leaning down he ducks his head into the opening and looks around for the rest of his squad.]

You want to hurry up in there?

(OOC: Garrus is set to get captured in this event so you are welcome to try and save him and fail. However, if you are due to get taken then feel free to get captured with him.)

☄PURLOIN & OBLATION; the sacrificed

[turianrebel]

[When Garrus comes to his head is pounding and a his eye sight is blurry and blue. Pain rockets up his nerves as his muscles shift to bring his hands up only to discover they are bound. He growls out, dual toned voice rising just slightly above the chanting of his captors. He has to shake the blue blood from his face before he can get a better look at his surroundings and that's when he realizes he has once again be taken along side others and each of them are on down on their knees in various stages of alertness. Garrus recognizes a only a handful from the Moria and before he can inquire if they're all right or what's going on their captor's start to move.

Garrus watches in shock as their long arms snatch up one of the few people ahead of him and into the air. The woman doesn't even scream and Garrus is fairly certain from the way her body hangs limp when it is laid to rest on the alter that she she must have failed to regain consciousness.]

What are you doing?

[By the time words finally come it is paired with the feeling of acid in the back of his throat, because he knows exactly what the natives are planning before the knife comes into view. Garrus tries to get up to stop this savage ritual from starting, but he is quickly subdued by one of the long armed natives and forced back to his knees. No matter how hard he struggles against his restraints they do not give and Garrus is left screaming out as the knife plunges down and the cheers rise up.

Everything has grown so loud that no one, not even Garrus can hear the gunshots in the distance.]

☄ASCENSION

[turianrebel]

[The minute the rifle was put in to his hands again brought a rush of clarity that Garrus had not felt since waking up among the natives at the start of their ritual. He was quick to turn it on his captors, first using the thickest part of barrel to knock out the closest that had been just moments before holding him to the ground. Garrus only paused to count the bullets in his clip and then he was off, using claws to break binds and the steadiest grip he could manage to get the rest of the captives up and to the safety.

His words were short and to the point: Go. Run. Don't look back.

Garrus takes up the rear, kneeling just atop a dune behind the survivors as they flee in order to provide cover for the few fighters who still lingered behind. Setting his eye into the sight the device comes to life with an electronic sound and three laser targets that are quick to find Garrus's first target.]

Now that's what I'm talking about!

[The eagerness in his voice is followed by the click of the trigger as Garrus takes his first of twelve shots which buries deep in to the alien's left shoulder. The creature screams wildly as it falls to the ground clutching it's now limp left arm. With the alien now prone Garrus takes his time to line up the next shot, he has an idea of the new rifles capabilities and like hell is going to waste any more bullets.]

[commontype]

He ain't your Loki, though, is he?

[Eggsy tips his head to the side, lips pursed, expression thoughtful.]

Well, I mean not from the movies, he don't look the same, yeah?

[He wondered if it was strange to say he knows who this man is from watching a film and if maybe, on the flip side, it's not Tony whose world ain't real, it's Eggsy's. It's pretty confusing, so he decides to not ponder the inner workings of the universe right now.]

You'd do that? Introduce me? [Fucking superheroes, man.] Yeah, if you don't mind, it'd be aces.

Same, Tony. [He shakes his hand, grinning.] Yeah, let's round these fuckers up, get back to safety.

[He looks a little sheepish when he curses, but he just shrugs.]

Wish I had a weapon or somethin' like you do.

[narcissistictendencies]

Tony had been combing the planet's crevices for the missing personnel, receiving quiet updates through his MID from Friday as people showed back up on the ship. Some of the names he recognised and others he didn't, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try to find them.

He was creeping into a cavern when the sound of chanting caught his attention. It was quiet, echoed, but strong enough to hear. He was grateful for the light cast by his repulsor that sat snugly in his palm, else he would have tumbled down the pit when he neared it. A slightly longer glance told him it wasn't empty. There was someone down there.

"Psst!" He cupped a hand by his mouth so the sound would carry a little farther than normal. "Hey, you alive?" He was still whispering, but as he did, he also scrambled to push the grate cover aside as much as he could. He hooked a leg through one of the rungs and leaned himself into the hole, extending his free hand while the repulsor in the other continued to act as a flashlight.

Tony squinted in the dark and finally made out a gentle glow he recognised. "Tron?"

[narcissistictendencies]

Don't think so. And that's probably a good thing.

[And then Eggsy mentions movies and Tony is left very confused. You're gonna have to explain this one, kiddo, because he has no idea what you're talking about.]

From... the movies? I know Cap's got comics about him but I haven't heard of any movies. Wouldn't surprise me, though. If I'm in them, please tell me they get my eyes right. No one can ever seem to get the eyes right. [He shrugs it off.

Tony doesn't seem to be put off by the cursing, however. He rather thinks it might be hilarious to see Steve's reaction only because he will be expecting Tony to say something ever time. And Tony probably will. Or at least smirk knowingly.]

Well, this thing's kinda coded to me, but... [He contemplates arming the kid but sticking a gun in the youth's hands just felt terribly irresponsible, even for him. He could just hear Pepper blow a gasket if she were here.] how old are you, kid? Have you ever even shot a gun before?

let me know if this works!

[heliakal]

[ Clark is nothing but a blur across the darkened sky. He'd been trying to keep the natives off the transporters to allow people to get to and from the ship, but the screaming in the distance decides exactly where he needs to be, in a hurry.

Flying isn't exactly the most subtle of entrances. His arrival is heralded by a sonic boom high above the area, a strong wind whipping through and pulling at his cape as he descends - floating, fully upright, his eyes glowing a bright red that veins out past his temples. He's seen the alter, and the dead woman laying on it.

The knife begins to glow as well, and the native is forced to drop it or be burned, then scramble away from the object with a loud hiss. When he turns, the natives that are guarding the hostages begin to back away. He's not giving them much worse than a nasty sunburn, but the air is several degrees warmer everywhere on the ground - a side effect that he's largely unaware of.

He floats above the alter, just out of easy reach. ]

Let them go. I'm only asking once.

[ The hostages look like they're coming around, but he can't scan them for broken bones while his heat vision cools down. He's just going to hope that the distraction is enough to get them mobile, because the natives recover from their shock a moment later. He catches the first tentacle that flies at him, and swings the native into another.

After that, several of them lash out on and drag him down to the ground for an all-out brawl. ]