thisavrou_log | ( april event log )

Entry tags:

( april event log )

Who: Everyone
When: April 14th and on
Where: The Moira + Del Pascia
What: The prison isn't all that contained after all.
Warnings: For the (sort of) undead, possible violence, and nudity. Please label your content!

E
V
E
N
T

revive the risk
"Big things have small beginnings."

Things have been going relatively well for the crew of the Moira thus far despite their current circumstances. With D-E-L’s help, many supplies have already been gathered, and those with the necessary components have begun making much needed repairs. Yet, things aren’t as peaceful on Del Pascia as they might have seemed.

The resident facility AI has slowly started growing more and more unresponsive to questions, often answering in rather irritated tones and short, snippy answers. Still, no system glitches appear across the prison except for one minor detail: random doors and hallways suddenly lock and close for no reason and don’t open again for varying amounts of time—ranging from minutes to hours. Does this have anything to do with the unsettling feeling some crew members have experienced since stepping foot onto Del Pascia? Or is there a simple explanation that can be easily chalked up to as an accident?

☄ DECONTAMINATION #2 ( 04.14 - 04.17 )

On the Moira, crew come and go without much hassle. They take a transporter to planets and moons and back again without any fuss... Until today. All crew that try to reboard the Moira coming back from Del Pascia will be denied access, a warning flashing on their MID - Decontamination Required for Entry. It’s a protocol that hasn’t been enacted before, and the MID offers no explanation as to why it is now. The transporter will seal and then be permitted to dock in the Cargo Bay, where the procedure will begin. All crew on the transporter have to dispose of their clothing by placing it inside hazardous waste bags located in a compartment near the front of the craft. After all clothing is stored, a gas-like substance will fill the transporter, breathable yet tasteless, and once it dissipates, crew will be free to go.

Other crew members will be waiting in the cargo bay with clothing and blankets, per the captain’s instruction, but no clear explanation will be given for this sudden new protocol aside from “potential health risks”.

☄ D.ON'T E.VER L.EAVE ( 04.18 - 04.23 )

After the decontamination procedures for the Moira go off, the captains issue a ship-wide alert to let the crew know that the ship is picking up on something inside each person that boarded the space station. It is speculated that the crew came in contact with an unknown biological contaminant either during the station’s decontamination procedure or sometime after. At this point, they aren’t aware of what will happen to those that are carrying the contaminant, and the captains ask for anybody with experience to head to the Medbay to begin testing. Crew don’t appear to be in any danger, so they are allowed to continue gathering materials and supplies on board the space station at their discretion. (Every time they come and go, they will be made to go through the procedure described above).

Any crew remaining on Del Pascia will find that D-E-L is more vocal than ever before. It is answering questions, as well as trying to convince crew members to abandon the Moira and take up permanent residence aboard the space station.

☄ FEAR ME, LOVE ME, DO AS I SAY ( 04.24 - 04.28 )

Like most unfortunate things, it seems everything happens all at once.The noises you heard, a step falling moments after yours or a rattle coming from the vents, become louder. You can’t place where they are coming from at first. You turn, you follow, but the search yields no results. And then, without any warning, it’s crystal clear as “they” begin to creep and move from within the shadows and ruined sections of Del Pascia: the prisoners and workers said to have been relocated by D-E-L. Their voice is one, regardless of how many gather, and they tell you, “You can be happy here” and “I can make you better” shortly after.

Worse than the way they speak in unison is the way they look. Mutated and deformed, their prison uniforms are in tatters and covered in various levels of the same blood that the crew has experienced during their time on Del Pascia while visiting the prison blocks. They don’t attack to kill; they only try to detain, to drag crew members further into the station and are methodical and precise in how they do this as if they’re being controlled by something greater and much smarter than them.

To those that fight, D-E-L’s voice will call out, telling the Moiran not to struggle, to stay here and be safe, be better. The AI explains that life there on Del Pascia is easy, peaceful, and nobody will cause you pain. Suffering is a thing of the past and loneliness is something you’ll never know again. The prisoners follow the command of the AI, its voice falling from their lips. D-E-L claims they feel no pain, no hunger. They are united in one purpose and are therefore free of all strife. Wouldn’t it be nice to be free like that?

As always, fearing for the safety of the crew (and despite the disrepair of the Moira from events prior), the captains ask for all those capable to assist with extracting those aboard Del Pascia as quickly as possible before D-E-L tries to lock them inside. Running, after all, is better than dying, and it’s certainly something everyone aboard the Moira has gotten quite good at.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Following the procedures, Obi-Wan deposited his hazard bag and then took a seat near Maya, although he left plenty of space between them. At least sitting preserved some of his modesty and it meant that he didn't have to look Hannis right in the eye while he struggled with this whole ordeal.

"I wouldn't know why that might be," he shot back, the sarcasm turning his words sharper than usual. Even if she wasn't snooping around his Force signature, Obi-Wan was being fairly transparent about his overall feelings with regard to this imposition.

He rubbed at his forehead, his eyes closing as another naked body trailed past them to turn in their clothes and take a seat opposite Obi-Wan. Fantastic view.

"I've been holding class on the observation deck," he says abruptly to distract himself. "I could use help if you speak anything better than Basic. Otherwise, you should attend." Not the most charitable invite, but an invitiation nonetheless.

[Deacon draws his laser pistol, hoping it'll be more useful against the creatures than his rifle was. If nothing else, it's easier to bludgeon with it.]

Ready whenever you are. You take the lead, I'll be right behind you.

[This is the third time Rey has gone through the decontamination process, so it's just a part of the ride back, now. The first time, of course, she had been furious. Never having owned many things in her life, it had been difficult for her to allow the landing crew to burn the clothes she'd been wearing. At least they hadn't been her clothes from home though, which she made sure to keep tucked away in her bunk whenever she took a transport out.

This time, she's already stripped down by the time she exits the cockpit, not a care in the world, throwing her soon-to-be-cremated clothes in a pile on the floor. Just keep everything very businesslike, and nobody will be too embarrassed--]

Alright, everything off. Let's make this quick and painless--

[--except the current bane of her existence is aboard this shuttle. For a moment, all Rey can do is stare at him, hunkered down in the corner. And then she gives a horrified and offended gasp, covering half her bits with one hand as she points to him with the other.]

Who let you on this ship?!

... okay, when I'm not doing that? It's really annoying.

[He pushes at Riptide's Big Chest a little, trying to shrug things off.]

I'm serious, though!

"Fair enough. I've known a lot of people who felt that way."

It was never Deacon's reason. Of all his problems, death wish has never been one of them. But it was common enough to see in the wasteland.

"So what's your story?"

If the sight of humans mutilated had broken had left her uncomfortable, it wasn't enough for Rune to forget her mission. She had to save as many people as possible. They needed to make sure that all of the ship's crew members made it back safely. She's not the best person for the task, but her body is certainly more durable than a normal person's and she's had no trouble shoving aside the dregs that have tried to cling to her (even if everytime she overdid it she found herself flinching and apologizing--she really isn't used to fighting.)

To be honest, though, it's starting to overwhelm her a little. There's too many people, too many promises being whispered, too many memories that she'd worked to forget being drawn out. It's a relief when she sees another person that stands out from the crowd, all in one piece and looking as though they themselves could use some help (and she has to privately admit to herself, a good excuse to withdraw for the moment.)

Prometheus might be able to hear her stuttering pleas to D-E-L before she ever gets near him:

"Oh... I, um, I don't think that I can stay! I have places to do--wait, that came out wrong! I mean, I have people to see.... Uh... I just... I really can't stay here! I'm just looking for my friend so that, um, we can go back together!"

There's an obvious shift in tone when she spots him, her eyes growing wide and words growing ever more desperate as she rushes over, pushing aside a couple crew members in the process,

"Yyou see? That... That's him right there! Um, hi! I... I... I'm here... I got sent here to take you back! I mean, to help you I mean... We should go back to the ship, right!?"

Rune may or not be a bit flustered by the entire situation.

It was boring to fight an enemy who was so far beneath her. Though boring isn't quite the right word for it anymore--the experience had shot right past dull and straight to annoying. The constant struggles, the words, all of them meant to wear her down into believing that this cause was somehow more just than others. It's not her problem. It's not what she wants and every grain of salt that gets rubbed into her wounds just serves to remind her of how far away such a thing really is. It's a pretty sad life when a person's best chance at happiness is being ripped up and brainwashed by an out of control AI.

But she got set back, and she has to make her way out of here somehow. Her spear is held in one hand, over her shoulder and behind her back, as she makes her way through. She doesn't even need magic to deal with any threats that come her way. They're not even worth her attention, let alone magic. Nothing on this ship is--or so she thinks.

The sudden shout and bangs, the flash of light, all the signs of combat catch her attention better than any prying hands could. The source doesn't disappoint--not human, not a zombie, but not a mindless drone or a cowardly AI either. No, this guy isn't anything that would throw out hollow offers of salvation or feign kindness. He wants a fight, but the opponents around here are worse than trash.

Well, since they're both in the same boat, she might as well try to fix that problem for both of them.

"Oi, oi. What kind of lame world do you come from where that line's still cool?"

Kyoko scoffs, shaking her head and flipping her spear. She takes it in both hands.

"Honestly. It's su-per pathetic, y'know."

Fear Me, Love Me

As soon as there's so much of an inkling of a problem - when the sounds following her change and grow in pitch, intensity; when the shadows start to move out of the corner of her eye - Tali makes her way back towards the transports, quick and careful. Shotgun in hand, there are certain corridors she nigh sprints down, skidding at corners and stopping only briefly to get her bearings.

Eventually, though, they catch up to her. Figures in tattered prison uniforms, bloody like her fellow crewmembers have been - like she is without ever having seen it. When she slides to a halt this time in the middle of a hallway, it's when her way ahead is blocked by a small gang of them, tall and burly and with nothing but purpose to them as they march her way.

Breath tight, she hefts her shotgun in her hands and takes aim to fire into the crowd. This is easy; it doesn't take thought, she doesn't have to worry about anything but the next couple of milliseconds, the next nerve impulses, the pulse of adrenaline.

Her gun - made by the geth, and she can appreciate good workmanship and irony at the same time - fires a substance that superheats the air around it into plasma, and it hits the floor, the walls, and all of the prisoners. She doesn't wait; she runs.

She trusts her environmental suit to defend her from the heat, and it does as she dives through the staggering bodies. The heat prickles so sharp it's like ice, but she's not burning, she'll be fine, she just has to--

--then something grabs her, spindly fingers on her side, her arm; Tali twists in its grip, turns - her heart stops. The world lurches sickeningly. One of the aliens has grabbed her, fingers still clawing at her - but its skin is gone, it's all cords of muscle and sizzling fat - but the grip is still strong, piercing at her, scrabbling at her suit slippery with blood.

With a cry of something between exertion and revulsion, she wrenches herself away to stagger into the wall - it's hot on her back; she barely notices - and the pain is suddenly all the sharper. She barely glances down to see the sizzling, melted tear in her suit, the raw and bleeding skin underneath.

She can smell burning flesh - her own, the alien's - and bile rushes up her throat.

The sound of movement coming their way at first just makes her think of more of them coming - and she's reloading in short jerky movements before they even round the corner.

Decontamination #2

The burns on her right side and left arm switch between sharp icicle stinging and a deep, insistent ache of a thing, but they feel like nothing as to the tears in her suit. Those are somehow terrifying, even now. She spends the whole way back on the transport picking at the melted edges of the material.

Her plans to go straight to the medbay and then sleep for a week are thwarted by naked decon, but her groan of frustration is less about that and more about wearing a complex suit that usually takes a lot longer than 'as fast as possible' to remove.

Most of the people around her are probably too caught up in their own nakedness to want to start helping with a fiddly suit removal, but too bad, because Tali's approaching someone right now.

"Hey, can you help with this? It won't take as long if I've got somebody helping out."

For a second, Liquid almost smiled. "You could try. Wasn't like I'd... spent years perfecting your accent. Not... not bad for something I figured out on the fly, right?"

You know, if they skipped the whole had Miller killed thing.

He stiffened up a bit at the question. "It doesn't matter. If we stay--" No. Stop that. Think about anything else. Think about a way out of this, not having to explain the virus. Not giving information up to anyone who asked, even if it didn't really matter in the long run.

"A virus. Created to target my team. Carried by... my brother." Or... he could just tell the truth, apparently. Still, it was better to talk about that than trying to convince Miller to stay on the station. If he was talking about something else, D-E-L and its ideals could just wait their damn turn.

He took a deep breath. Well, memories of death were one thing to fight an AI's influence, right? A hand curled into a fist at his chest. "Gave you a heart attack's what it did. We tried to get a vaccine, but we were unable, and... we died. All but Ocelot. If it wasn't the virus, it was my brother. Killing us all off. Killed Mantis."

The severance of their connection had hurt more than his own death.

Another deep breath, and...

"There won't be anything like that on the station." Damn, and he was doing so well.

"Carried by your brother?" Willingly? No, he can't imagine that. Miller is sure he wouldn't have tolerated that in any student, not after watching his men die like they did. Not with his hard resentment of plague as a weapon. He can logically guess that whatever these men were doing, they needed to be stopped at all costs.

He'd get back to that, though. Or ask David himself. "Alright, well," he'd sounded so exhausted, so tired for so long, that Liquid's boisterous tone and near prissy manner of speech was a little harder to achieve. Ten years ago, he would have been all over the attempt. "My brother had-," he cleared his throat, thumped his chest. No, no here he would try again. "My brother had fifty huskies and probably tried to walk them all at once and called it dog sledding."

It was a little closer. Not enough to pass as Liquid. But enough to show an attempt and claw at what was left of his humor. (Despite everything else about the conversation making every hair he had stand on end.)

"See? I'm no good at it."

Distract him from the disease. From the death. From the loss brought on from a naked mind left alone. Keep him there.

Or maybe that's wishful thinking.

[ She doesn't lean in either, just letting her lips brush against his while she speaks. ]

Maybe you like being pushed around a little.

Oh yeah? And what is it you want, Eli?

[Yes he's using that name to get under Liquid's skin. If he rebels against that name, maybe those feelings will tumble into rebelling against the station that has a hold on his mind.]

To sit here and do nothing? Is that the same man who took action where we came from?

"What kind of class?" Maya asked, resisting the urge to stare at him for the fun of it.

She did, in fact, speak more than Basic. But her vocabulary had largely grown out of learning various ways to either seduce someone or haggle over the price of a part. She didn't know many other words for 'tree' or 'cloud' or any other word that didn't fall into one of those two categories.

And she couldn't begin to imagine what sort of thing he'd be teaching. But there was something very curious, very fascinating about his squeamish stranger. Maya wasn't sure what drew her to him. Maybe it was just her disability her...

...what was it called?

The Force?

She let out a short laugh. "If you're looking for entertainment, I'd much rather dance for you," she replied. She paused. "Although it would be a pretty short show, given the fact that my work clothes are currently elsewhere."

Maya stretched out one of her long legs, pointing her toes like a dancer.

And she carefully started to probe Deacon's mind. There had to be a reason why he was suddenly interested in her life story. Maya refused to believe in idle curiosity.

[It's not as though Ocelot would give Kaz a hard time if he guessed wrong. It's how he'll react that Ocelot isn't sure of. He knows Kaz must have feelings, in a way, for both men.]

What would knowing do? Neither of them belongs to me.

[It's not as though Ocelot was in a 'relationship'. But he'll give Miller a break and stop being evasive for a change.]

Ahab was grateful for getting DD back and wanted to thank me.

[Biting his neck was a hell of a thanks.]

[Del Pascia wasn't for him. He'd spent the last three years in prison, even if it hadn't been as bad an experience for him as it was most people, Scott was in no hurry to go back. He didn't like having the solid four walls around him and he didn't trust this place not to malfunction and lock them all in.

So he sticks to the Moira, at least for now, checking the vents for blockages, because it might not be a glamorous job, but it was his. It beat making smoothies.]

Hi, I'm Scott.

[He didn't want to act all macho, not his style, but he saw a person that needs some help, and he was going to offer it.]

Need two more?

[He lifts his hands, smiling at her.]

At first, Liquid just stared at him the way he'd been staring at him before. Blank, unfocused, face still partially hidden behind the sunglasses. Silent, but like he'd start trying to talk about the station again.

And then he laughed.

It was quiet at first, barely noticeable, but soon it turned into a genuine laugh.

"I don't know, it was pretty close," he said, his voice more normal than it had been the whole time. So far so good. "Might not fool anyone, but it wasn't the worst."

He could still feel something clawing at the back of his mind, trying to get him to remain on the station, to fight against Miller, but his focus had already moved on. Maybe this could distract him enough. Maybe.

Even if it didn't, at least it'd distract him from the memories of everything he'd lost.

"Did he really do that? With the huskies?"

[ Bruce purses his lips and shrugs, looking entirely unapologetic as he answers. ]

Can't say I mind it much if you're the one doing the pushing.

Snake didn't even want to think about having cameras in the showers because that was even worse than this. At least there was some sort of feeble excuse to have them remove all of their clothes. "Safety. Yeah." Venom just grumbled in response and felt an itch on his back. Shit. How was he supposed to reach it and cover himself up at the same time.

"Damn. Got an itch on my back. Can't reach."

Ahab looked at the fire on the ground and smiled. Yeah. That would surely slow the bastards down unless they wanted to become barbeque men. Nice plan, Niko.

"You love your fire, huh? Good plan. Let's see if any decide they want to become barbeque." Snake readied himself just in case any of them decide to brave it across the line of fire. He was on the defensive and could move in front of Niko if need be to protect him. The guy didn't deserve to be dragged down into the depths of hell because Snake wasn't going to let him get hurt. This man was his room buddy. He knew not much about him but enough. The man had guts and Venom admired that.

I wouldn't let anyone else get pushy with my man.

[ It's a good thing that Banner has fallen asleep again because no one deserves to hear this gross ridiculousness. ]

[Miller sits there and rolls his eyes to the side, as if Ocelot's cryptic words about not being in a relationship matter terribly much.]

Yeah. Not really men you put a label on. Already know that.

[But then he comes clean, and Miller... well, he doesn't know if he's relieved or not. He fulfilled a longstanding dream with one, but on the other there was a closeness there he's deprived of. There's something a little sad about it. Another reminder, if faint, that when he does leave, they will belong to Ocelot. And he knows it.]

Well... [It wasn't as if he had any significant part to play in his life anyway. Just the person tricked into helping him act like Big Boss. Ahab's his friend. He is. But Kaz has no idea where that friendship comes from. Not when it's based off memories of him with Big Boss... and that friendship, he knows fully well, comes from a darker place than just being saved.]

...I guess it really isn't any of my business. [He knows it's not. He thinks about adding in what he did, but in the long run, does that matter either? Aw. Hell. He wishes he had his sunglasses. He realizes in that moment the usual shield against his emotions isn't there. He can see that not of conflicted disappointment, of vague loneliness, and then suddenly being a bit irritated with that final realization of being exposed. He tries to cover it by rubbing between his eyes, just a motion to cover them.]

Edited 2016-04-20 17:05 (UTC)

[Venom made a mental note to avoid a guy-robot known as Tarn.]

Not sure the captains will appreciate him murdering the crew. Does he have an attitude problem or something?

I don't want to see that or think about it.

[the smell of burning flesh is terrible.

she catches it, holding it out for a moment.] I shan't be stealing the AI, I don't desire to have another military AI, I merely want to seek out the power cores it undoubtedly has around.

...Either that, or I'm going to pull out a load of wires and shoot things until I feel better.

[Perhaps it isn't his business, but he did want to know anyway. Now Miller looks hurt over the information, which Ocelot expected might happen. For all his gruff exterior at times when barking orders as XO, Ocelot knows the man has a tender heart. A bit too much of a romantic, in Ocelot's opinion, but there was no changing that.]

You know you mean something to him. It's not as if that's gone because of one night.

[One really hot and spectacular night, granted, but he's not gonna brag. For once.]

Or is he not good enough because he's not the 'real' Big Boss?

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 21 of 60

( april event log )

no subject

no subject

a | heh

no subject

no subject

a

B FIGHT!!! (or not if u don't want to)

Tali'Zorah | Open

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

wildcard;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject