( april intro log )

[hownkai]

Who: Everyone
When: April 1st and on
Where: The Moira + Del Pascia
What: The crew finds themselves visiting the correctional facility of Del Pascia.
Warnings: Mentions of blood. Please label your content!

I N T R O L O G

slammed & counted "I feel liberated when I'm doing it, and I want other people to feel liberated through it." The Ingress has pulled you in. Your body experiences several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. You have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer from dizziness while others are perfectly fine. Once equilibrium has been reestablished, you will notice you are standing on a long platform and that the room is filled with a soft cerulean light. It's slightly humid and dark despite the glow around you, and nothing is familiar. Shortly after, you are led out and toward the medbay. Inside this room, you are given a physical scan and offered a contract to sign that states you are now part of the crew of the Moira with a specific job. This process consists of a complete work-up of medical history and current health, and afterwards, you are given your MID, a device that is integrated into your hand with only the slightest pinch. From there, you are guided out of the medbay and to your living quarters. With the combined efforts of the crew, the terror plaguing the ship has been successfully removed from the Moira. Yet, it doesn’t come without consequences. Aside from the overall state of those aboard the ship, the Moira itself has taken considerable damage across various sections. Overall functionality seems stable for now, but with necessary repairs to be made and few supplies to actually make them with, the Captains have set a course for any nearby planet with the hope of finding what they need. However, that is much closer than it appears. As new arrivals begin coming through the Ingress, a message is received by those in the Tower and broadcast to everyone: Please be advised. Your vessel is now entering Restricted Space. As per penal code 65208-A, only authorized personnel are to be admitted beyond this point. If necessary, further assistance will be provided once docked. As there is little choice, the Captains instruct Navigation to proceed with caution. All transporters will be required to assist in taking those who volunteer to the main hub. WELCOME TO CORRECTIONAL FACILITY DEL PASCIA Del Pascia is one of many facilities across the universe built to maintain and rehabilitate its inhabitants. With a combined populace of both prisoners and employed civilians, it functions as both prison and living quarters. The central section of Del Pascia is divided into multiple floors that branch out into subdivisions of the facility—clearly and precisely labeled. For those contracted to work in the prison, Del Pas Main is home. There are cafeterias, common areas for exercise and general downtime, divided residences, and work stations. Beyond this area, each remaining wing of Del Pascia separates into cell blocks A through F with similar facilities available to the inmates. Varying degrees of criminals are brought to Del Pascia, ranging from maximum security to juvenile offenders, and security differs depending on which block is visited. Yet, there is something peculiar about this prison upon further investigation: there are no living persons within Del Pascia. The AI, which runs and oversees all of Del Pascia, has made arrangements with the Moira so that those who wish may board and take what is needed to begin repairs. This program, while generally polite in nature, goes simply by the name D-E-L. ☄ ENJOY YOUR STAY ... IN PRISON Those who choose to go to Del Pascia will find themselves greeted by D-E-L. It has already agreed to terms with the Captains, allowing crew to strip nonessential supplies that aren’t needed since the station’s crew and prisoners were relocated due to funding cuts. The only condition placed upon this agreement is that any crew wishing to explore must undergo a mandatory decontamination before proceeding through the rest of Del Pascia. This process takes only minutes and is guaranteed to cause no physical side effects. Following this simple procedure, exploration is open with only warnings to be careful about damaging key systems. It is important to note that there are various security cameras located throughout the correctional facility, and it is not uncommon for D-E-L to comment or show concern for those exploring parts of Del Pascia. ☄ DEATH BECOMES YOU There is salvage to be found in all parts of the facility, including the cell blocks and infirmaries of the prison wings. However, there is something odd about these sectors, a strange charge in the air that follows you as you search for anything useful to bring back to the Moira. Perhaps it is the eyes of D-E-L watching? But then, after an indiscernible amount of time, it's like a switch is flipped. Suddenly, you are wearing your sins where anyone but you can see. For however much death you have wrought or committed, there will be blood on your hands—perhaps even further than that. This bizarre occurrence will appear as an almost digital skin and will not vanish until outside the cell blocks. If exploring the infirmaries for supplies, any and all health stats throughout your life will be visible and easy to read by anyone who happens to take an interest. For those who have killed once or twice, they might find a red stain on their hands, but the higher the kill count will result in larger proportions of blood covering their arms and, in extreme cases, perhaps their entire body. The blood will vanish once you have left the prison wing, though you may occasionally see a flicker of the image while anywhere on the station. The same goes for health stats viewed in infirmary sections of Del Pascia. ☄ WHAT WAS THAT SOUND? Del Pascia is a very large station and has been abandoned for quite some time. D-E-L will regretfully inform anyone who asks that some nonessential areas have fallen into disrepair. It will warn that exploring these areas can be risky as it has no knowledge of what damage these sections have taken. Regardless of that, if you venture in, you’ll find that these sections are in rather bad shape. Exposed wiring sparks in the walls, a great variety of broken tools are thrown about, and it seems that every camera has been purposely broken. Venturing in further will yield valuable components for salvage, and yet... as before, you suspect you aren’t alone. It isn’t often, but sometimes, you might hear a step falling moments after yours or a rattle coming from the vents. Every time you go to investigate... whatever made the noise is gone. Should the AI be queried about this, D-E-L will emphasize that all personnel and prisoners were removed and that there is no one on board except crew from the Moira. ( ooc; For questions, go here. All players, please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! )

Comments

clark kent | ota

[heliakal]

option a+;

Clark is usually one of the first people off the ship, but he's in no special hurry this time around. He wants to stay relatively close to Lois, at least while she's getting her bearings, and she's not the only person he'd like to keep an eye on. Most of the time, he can be found in the garden, weeding and otherwise attending to the plants. The tiny kittens that populate the garden seem to have no issue climbing all over him while he works, and Clark is obviously accustomed to it. He'll strike up a friendly conversation with anyone who happens to linger, especially the new arrivals.

When he does go down to Del Pascia, he goes for heavy salvage work in the prison wing. He's wearing his crew uniform and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, so he mostly he sticks to using the available tools unscrew bolts and take down sheets of paneling to haul back to the ship. He's not carrying much more than a normal person might, but he doesn't seem to struggle particularly. He's no stranger to menial work, and he takes to it without any complaint. After a few hours of this, he doesn't seem like he's tired at all. Instead, his attention wanders more often, and he'll stand for minutes at a time seemingly staring into space while he tries to follow some faint, untraceable noise. Something about all of this feels strange in a way that makes the hairs on the back of his neck raise. He's not particularly paranoid, but even when he leaves one area for another, it feels like he's being watched.

He glances behind him for maybe the fourth time in an hour, and rubs the back of his neck before getting back to work. Maybe he's just getting into his head too much. He glances over at the person beside him. "You ever just feel like it's a matter of time before something goes wrong?"

At other times, he'll be doing much the same kind of work, forgoing his crew uniform for a tight blue suit and a long red cape. He has no trouble ripping sheets of paneling from the walls with his bare hands, and hauling them back over his shoulder like they don't weigh anything at all. Occasionally, his eyes emit a red light that sheers right through metal.

Regardless of which guise he happens to be wearing, there's a large blood stain covering half of his right hand.

option b;

Clark mostly keeps to himself while salvaging, but there are some things that can be difficult to ignore. Someone working beside him with blood on their hands is definitely one of those things.

He reaches to stop them, thinking for a second that they might have cut themselves somehow without noticing. "Hey - are you alright?"

wild card;

[ Choose your own adventure, anywhere on the Moira or Del Pascia! Clark can be found exploring the prison thoroughly, and will ignore any AI warnings about venturing into dangerous sections of the station. On the Moira, he can usually be found curled up somewhere reading, working, or brooding on the aft, as you do. I'll match prose or brackets! ]

b

[goodluckkobra]

Under his jacket Kobra's got blood up to his elbows, but he can't see a drop of it himself, so he jerks back violently when the stranger reaches for him. The last thing he wants in this creepy place is for weird people to touch him. It's bad enough he has to deal with them being around while he's scavenging for himself. If it was up to him, he'd just have a nice chat with the AI, collect shit for himself and be on his way.

"I'm fine."

His hackles are raised as he stands facing Clark with a suspicious look.

[heliakal]

Clark's hand stops in mid-air, and then he drops it to his side, giving the other man space.

"Your hands are bloody," he says, matter-of-a-fact. There's a lot more blood than he thought at a glance, and it's not easy to go unnoticed,. While it looks fresh, strangely, it hasn't come off on anything that he can see. "Did something happen?"

[goodluckkobra]

"Nothin' happened. My hands are fine." Well, they're dirty, but not any dirtier than usual. Even so, he glances down again to double check and wrings them awkwardly in front of himself. This place is so weird.

He takes a small step back, one foot kicking the other in his haste, and then one of his hands starts floating close to the ray gun in his holster. It's an instinct and probably not warranted in this situation, but a lifetime of nothing but threats is a hard thing to fight now.

[heliakal]

"Hey, it's okay." Clark backs up a step, giving him room, his own hands empty even before he raises them a little in a placating gesture. The guy doesn't seem malicious, just hair-trigger skittish.

This doesn't make any sense, though. He can see the blood, but he doesn't smell it, and he doesn't think the guy has any idea what he's talking about. He honestly hopes he hasn't developed some surprising new ability recently, because this is going to be hell to explain.

"I'm guessing you can't see it?"

Option A

[hellsbel]

"Not at all." The cheerfully ironic tone is strained somewhat as Bel's entire weight is thrown against a sticky bolt. It grates and moves slightly, and Bel eases up, the better not to strip the threads. "Only every couple of days. And of course, the first of the month."

A sharp glance over at Clark -- Miles must have given him the rundown on Mark Pierre by now -- but his abstracted air catches Bel's attention, the hand rubbing his neck hidden from this angle. So even tireless Clark can get a crick in his neck.

"You all right up there?"

Maybe it's the surroundings; prison salvage can be a haunting task. At least they haven't found any dead bodies yet.

[heliakal]

"Point taken," Clark says, giving Bel a wry smile. The first of the month is almost guaranteed to be the beginning of some kind of disaster for someone. At least this time they haven't had any murders - that he knows of.

"What? Oh, yeah, it's just..." He pauses, grasping for words. "I dunno. I realize a prison isn't supposed to be cozy, but being watched all the time is a little unsettling. Do you think D-E-L is telling the truth about what happened to the people here?"

[hellsbel]

Famous last words, probably. Bel leans on the wrench, eyes on Clark, working the fused metal loose by tiny, routine increments.

"Good old perpetual surveillance. You either pick up some healthy paranoia or lose all sense of shame. At least it looks like their plumbing was working in this section--" The bolt comes loose with an unholy shriek, echoing out into the corridors and down the pipelines, and Bel flips it into a crate, seeing nothing of the blood running down one sleeve, dripping from the dark fabric in the dim light.

D-E-L is probably listening to them right now -- definitely listening, since AIs don't blink or split their attention. "Do you know the story of the twin archers and the fork in the road?"

[heliakal]

He gets back to his own work, methodically loosening bolts in the paneling just a little at a time like everyone else. The shriek from Bel's side causes him to flinch briefly; it would have hurt even if his hearing wasn't particularly sensitive.

He has a vague recollection of a story like this - about twins and a fork in the road - but he wants to hear Bel's version.

"I don't think I've heard that one," he says, glancing over. He nods for Bel to continue, but a moment later his brow furrows and his gaze dropping to Bel's sleeve. They haven't reacted at all, and that's not the strangest thing. Clark can see the blood, but he can't hear it dripping down, or smell it.

He almost says something about it, but it occurs to him that he has no idea if this is something for Bel to be concerned about or just some odd quirk of his kryptoinian abilities acting up. After 34 years, it's in his nature to act on the side of caution when he isn't certain about this sort of thing. The last thing he wants is for Bel to think he's gone insane.

a

[smoothaf]

Despite being born at roughly the right age to be the targeted age bracket when Action Comics first published Superman, Napoleon wasn't a comic book reader which is why it takes until now to make that connection. The other man's costume isn't quite accurate, it's missing the red shorts, but he's clearly expected to believe this man is a superhero. He certainly has the strength for it anyway.

"I don't see why you were so against me impersonating you. It would help with this."

He wonders why he's only been mistaken for Clark before. It also explains how he met Aurelia and lived as well as Liz's cryptic comments about his toes.

Superman's blood stain is small enough that it goes unremarked upon due to the more important discovery. Meanwhile the blood on Napoleon's arms are a lot more prominent.

[heliakal]

Clark's fingers dent the metal that he's holding at the sound of a very familiar voice.

He could lie, if he wanted to. Napoleon might be a CIA agent, but the idea of a few people sharing the same face isn't a far-fetched one on a ship like this. He should lie, but the last few weeks have been taxing even for someone like him.

"Really?" He manages to pack a truly impressive amount of irritation and disbelief into a single word. He brushes past Napoleon to set the salvage down before he turns it into scrap metal by accident. "I've got this, and the less you're involved with it the better - for your sake and mine. Have you even stopped..."

He trails off, looking down at Napoleon's arms. This isn't his first time seeing something like this, but he still has no idea what it means. There's the off chance that it could be real blood, but there's so much of it on Napoleon that there would have had to be a smell of some kind. Still, one thing at a time.

Clark folds his arms, shoulders squared. "Are you still pretending to be me?"

[smoothaf]

Most people would get nervous seeing someone like Superman get annoyed, but Napoleon kept his cool no matter what. He trails along behind him with false curiosity.

"I haven't told anyone I was you since you asked me to stop. But if you truly think it's dangerous you should really invest in a mask. Superman has more in common with me than Clark Kent."

Clark wore glasses and slouched, Napoleon styled his hair and was a lot more obvious about the fact that he exercised regularly. It's with practised indifference that he leans against a partially loose panel and coolly watches him, but his heart rate also manages to reflect the fact that he's not as worried as he should be. He's blown straight to acceptance because like their presence here everything is so farfetched he has no choice, but to accept it.

sorry this is so late! it got flagged as spam for some reason

[heliakal]

He raises an eyebrow, his only response to that statement. Napoleon isn't wrong. He and Superman are equally likely to get punched in the face.

It's obvious that Napoleon is taking all of this in stride, at least. He could argue that it was training and a few months aboard a ship full of aliens, but considering the army's response to him back home, Clark doesn't quite think that's the whole reason. "For a CIA agent, you don't seem to keep a very low profile."

b

[hyperkinesia]

Bruce is looking for just about anything he can make use of, but he's keeping an eye for more specific parts, for repairs both at the medbay and the cryo units specifically. The science department's still running more or less alright as it is, and besides, making sure they have the necessary tools and systems to take care of people is of far greater importance.

Gathering some smaller parts into a box, he stops when Clark speaks up, looking from him to his hands. He doesn't see the blood staining all the way up his arms, of course, and his voice and expression both are as calm as ever when he looks back up. "Yes, I'm fine. Why?" His eyes fall to Clark's hand, now seeing the blood there. "Are you?"

[heliakal]

He doesn't see it. Clark looks him over. He doesn't need to use any particular abilities. He doesn't see any obvious cuts, and if Bruce got hurt quickly and badly enough for that much blood, he wouldn't be standing there speaking calmly. There's nothing nearby that could have somehow come off on him, either.

In and of itself, seeing things that others don't isn't an unusual occurrence for someone like Clark. It's times like this that make him glad there are people who know what his deal is - if he explains what he's seeing to Bruce, maybe they can figure out what's going on here.

"Yeah, of course." Clark glances down at where Bruce is looking, mostly out of habit. His hand looks perfectly ordinary to him. "Bruce, what are you seeing? It looks like there's blood all over your arms but I don't think it's... real."

[hyperkinesia]

There's nothing there, Bruce knows that. Rationally, and given how Clark ends his sentence, he knows there's no reason to worry, but he can't help react in an instinctive way. The mere mention of blood has him tensing up and drawing in on himself, going so far as putting a couple of feet between them, checking his hands and arms in a rushed, almost panicked way.

He doesn't see it, obviously. There's no wound or cut, there's no danger— and he takes a deep breath, sighs silently at the sheer relief that the blood isn't real.

"I... I see that, too," he nods, finally looking back up to Clark. "Not all over your arms, though. You just... it looks like you have some on your hand."

[heliakal]

"Bruce." Clark automatically takes a step after him, but he stops himself there, letting Bruce have a little space. The blood remains static on his clothing, even when Bruce swipes his hands through it. He doesn't miss that sigh, the relief as he starts to settle down again. He wonders how often Bruce has found blood on his arms like that.

He moves his thumb across his own palm, but he doesn't see or feel anything more the second time. Clark has no idea what this is or what it means - at the moment it seems like some kind of strange, sick joke.

"So we can only see it on each other... do you have any idea of what this could be about?"

c:

[cookshisgoose]

[It had only been three months since her birthday. It was May when she left home, and March when she arrived. She still wasn't sure if that meant she skipped ahead ten months, went back two, or something entirely different, but either way, it hadn't been her intention of even celebrating her birthday. And yet, Steve surprised her all the same, sweeping her off her feet as he did so remarkably well.

When she returned to her room that evening, dressed to the nines, she felt as giddy as a schoolgirl. Even after a month with him in her life again, spending time with Steve was such a gift. Her head was in the clouds, her guard so rarely let down, which was why she didn't notice the male in the hallway as she returned to Moro deck. She bumped into him just barely, but it was enough so that she stopped and turned to apologize for her carelessness.]

I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying any attention--

[heliakal]

It's fine, no -- uh, no harm done. [ He smiled, meaning it as a polite reassurance more than anything else. His hands were still stuffed in his pockets, shoulders drawn inward a little in a way that made him look smaller than he was. He'd barely noticed the bump; he hadn't thought anything of it at all.

He couldn't blame her for a little distraction, anyway; she looked amazing. She was probably dressed for a date. His head would be in the clouds under similar circumstances, too. He nodded, meaning to leave it at that. ] You look great, by the way.

[cookshisgoose]

You-- [She knows that face. She despises that face.

Ever since Peggy met Napoleon-- sorry, Nathaniel, she dreaded the day she ran into him again. Fortunately, she had managed to avoid him, but now, of all the days, here he was.

If it had been any face but that face that said those words, she would have accepted them and moved on, but no. Because it was him, or she thought it was him, her reaction is drastically different. Instead, she does what she wanted to do the very first time she had met him.

She punches him square in the jaw.]

[heliakal]

[ Clark, being someone other than Napoleon Solo, didn't generally expect to be greeted with a punch in the face.

He stumbles back, trying to get out of the way just a little too late before her fist connects solidly with his face. Something definitely cracks, he can feel the sickening crunch of bone.

If he'd been human, he'd be on the floor, but as things stand the only thing on him that's broken is the pair of glasses he's wearing. Clark doesn't even notice them fall off his face. He's staring at the woman whose hand is now very obviously broken.

Reproachfully, he says: ] Ma'am I -- think we should get you to Medbay.

[ Her hand is the first priority, then they can discuss the rest of it. He really hopes she doesn't panic, but considering that she opened by punching him in the face, he doubts that she's the type. ]

a+ garden

[jedimindtrick]

"You'll want to be careful — I hear those things can be dangerous," Obi-Wan points out, gesturing to the kittens that appear to have adopted Clark.

The Jedi had visited the garden on several occasions, and while he'd mostly kept to quieter, more isolated areas for meditation, once in a while this was where he needed to be. And that usually meant less meditation and more cat placation. Not that he seems to mind.

Turning, Kenobi shows off the industrious furball climbing its way up the back of his dark brown robe. It amuses him in a way few things seem to, meaning he's chuckling warmly as the kitten makes its ascent. He was needing this, he thinks, although he hadn't known as much until the serenity of the garden and its teeming display of light began loosening his too-tight being.

"I could use that much energy."

[heliakal]

Clark looks up from his work and smiles easily. "They are. They'll adopt you when you least expect it."

It's nice to see someone else becoming a favored cat toy, right down to being climbed on. "Couldn't we all?"

The kittens tend to be a good influence on even the roughest crew members - not that the other man strikes him as 'rough.' Something about him is familiar, though he can't quite put a finger on what. He shrugs it off for now and stands, pulling off his gloves so he can offer a hand. "I don't think we've met yet. I'm Clark Kent."

[jedimindtrick]

The handshake, not quite customary where he comes from, has taken some getting used to for its commonality on the Moira. It's a poor replacement for the traditional bow, Obi-Wan thinks, but he's had to learn stranger greetings. He's just pleased he doesn't have to hop on one foot while blowing raspberries and turning in a circle (as was the custom on Cetara VI).

"Clark Kent, keeper of cats. I won't forget. We haven't had the pleasure, no," he confirms with a thin, but genuine smile. "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I teach language when I'm not acting as a tree to be climbed."

[heliakal]

Oh.

He hasn't seen those movies since he was young, but the name nudges the memory back into place. Clark smiles politely and tries not to stare or say anything embarrassing. He's not star struck exactly, there's just something surreal about meeting people who come from fictions of his own world. But then - he's fiction in some of theirs, too.

"It's -- good to meet you. What languages do you teach?"