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deep in the murk
"It comes first and follows after. Ends life, kills laughter."
With the outcome of the battle against the Caducans and the Moira having twisted together with their ship to form a strange combination of glass, metal, and organic parts (both across the ship and among the crewmembers), there is still the matter of the Ingress not functioning “properly”. It hasn’t worked correctly since the very first person arrived on the Moira through it, and there is little the Captains themselves know about its functions. However, now, more than before, it’s even worse than that. The Ingress malfunctions yet again. This time, though, it doesn’t simply combine time and space and objects around it—it encompasses the entirety of the ship and sends it far off into a completely different universe. Welcome to:
( click text for a rough map/layout )This puts the Moira closer to its final destination, and most of the glass has disappeared as the Caducan ship has been left behind aside from small things here and there (i.e., some of the walls in the corridors, random furniture in the rooming decks, the rooms themselves). Even the mess hall has permanently changed. Yet, there is some bad news that comes with this transition. The universe the ship is in is so terrible that it has been given its own name so that travelers avoid it altogether. Even the Captains themselves are aware of just how Bad News this universe is and had originally planned to take “the long way around” to avoid it. Anything shady or unsavory can be found in the Runoff, and while it might not appeal to the majority, it is simply second-nature to those who inhabit it. From arms trafficking to drugs, whatever one might think is illegal somewhere else is suddenly very legal and very dangerous.
Through the transition, some of the crew will accidentally end up on a nearby outpost specifically used for slave trade. It is a covered, temporary establishment used only for this purpose, meaning there are no open markets, hotels, or businesses of any sort. Stalls and tents line dirty streets, and ships litter the space around the outpost. This is a slave trade zone. People come and go but do not stay. Various lifeforms can be found here, and there are many different forms of slave trade happening. The motto “honor among thieves” does not exist in this place either. Crew who end up here will be “free”; however, this means that there is the potential to be taken and sold or kept by those of the Runoff. The Moira will not be close to this outpost, but the signals given from their MIDs will alert the crew to their location. Rescue, obviously, is imminent, but those who choose to help their fellow crewmembers must keep to small stealth missions using transporters or other crafts with one important detail in mind: they cannot bring attention or notice to the Moira itself.
Almost one-third of the crew has found themselves on the slave trade outpost, leaving the rest to plan for rescue. The Captains will immediately divulge all information that they have about the outpost, which is unfortunately very little outside of the stigma associated with the Runoff. The Captains will ask any MID techs or those with skills to create a program that allows person to person location; this function will allow crewmembers to search for those on the outpost via their MIDs. Rescue efforts are encouraged, and all the ships and transporters in the cargo bay will be available for public use. Crew will be told to be careful and quiet, bringing no attention to the Moira’s location, and most importantly, do not stand out. If crew look and act like they don’t belong there, others will notice. Stealth is the name of the game, and blending in is a necessity. ☄ time goes by slowly The unfortunate crewmembers who ended up on the outpost have now found themselves pursued by those looking to make a profit through slave trade. The standards of hard labor vary from owner to owner, but it is what it sounds like. Rough, hard work that will last as long as the body performing it can endure. If purchased, owners might examine their new property to determine what type of work they’d be best suited for and then split them up into holding areas until they are done with their purchases. Others might have their slaves begin work by cleaning their ship or holding stalls or packing up their tents and gear. The owners, and their needs, are as varied as the universe. Did you manage to escape? Or were you forced to work before you were rescued? ☄ and it seems to last forever Like the crewmembers taken by general labor owners, the murdersport slavers buy and take whomever they believe can last the longest in the pit. Some take those who appear to be strong or have great stamina, and some take those who are light on their feet or are quick-witted. Some crew are chosen simply based on appearance and how good they’ll look in their gear. If pursued, the slavers will do everything they can to capture the Moirans, and if captured, crew might be taken to a holding stall or a testing pit so that their skills can be witnessed by the public and tested. Some slavers want to show off their new property by throwing them into small roped off areas with other slaves, various creatures, or machines. Some make them stand up in front of groups and simply show them off, boasting that, at the next big event in the Runoff, they’ll surely win the grand prize. What kind of slaver has taken you? Will you be forced to fight before you rescue? Or will you not make it to the Moira before the Ingress pulls you back? ☄ but then it starts to fly ( cw: sex ) As is typical of this universe, slave trade comes in various forms. The most notorious being its illustrious sex trade. Slaves are bought and sold quickly and often, with no notable preference for appearance or species. Buyers come from all over to find slaves to work in their brothels, for personal use, as in-house entertainment, and much more. While the other two most popular type of slave trade don’t care as much about the physical well being of their property, these specific owners usually do. They might try to incapacitate first, so that the slaves aren’t bruised or cut, and if necessary, use binds until they can get them back to their ships or holding stalls. Some owners have their slaves cleaned and dressed in the finest attire, while others shove them into uniforms and tossed into stalls. Were you captured? Did you escape? Or were you rescued before something untoward occurred? What's more, events of the past always have a way of coming back to haunt you.
Months past, a monster terrorized the crew and left a very literal mark upon those that it touched. Those scarred by encounters with the Ploiatos will find their minds drifting as they work and go about their day. They may also find themselves in a different part of the ship than intended when they come back to themselves. It happens slowly, these small moments of lost time. But both before and after these events occur, one might notice that the scars seem to shift slightly. Where the patterns have been stable for months, suddenly the branching arms of the scars appear to be in a slightly different position than before. More often than not, those who lose time will regain awareness and find themselves in Navigation. When this happens, oftentimes Captain Manasseh will herd them out with a quiet, but undeniably firm, suggestion to visit the infirmary. More unsettling are the moments when they awaken in the I.L.R. standing outside the one door that should never be opened. As for those who were lucky enough to avoid encounters with the creature locked within, they must figure out how to deal with their friends and fellow crew who seem to walk around in a fog with no control of their actions.
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thisavrou_log2016-07-19 01:11 am
steve rogers | open (cw: some violence, drugs)
[ Once he gets as much information as he can from the captains, there's no question about what he needs to do. Maybe he should actually discuss it with someone, gather some of his team, but the less noticeable this is, the better. Espionage isn't exactly what he's good at, though he's learned quite a lot from Natasha (and even Barton) in the last few years, so it's all about planning and coordinating what he thinks should be done. Steve doesn't have his stealth suit here, and that would probably defeat the purpose of the idea he actually has in mind—get inside the outpost undetected, let himself be taken in, recover as many people as possible and get him back to the transporter he's goinf to take out. It's a simple plan, if a little complicated given he doesn't know the layout or what the people there are capable of, but he has his objective.
That's more than enough to get him down into the cargo bay, dressed in clothes much too light to be tactical gear and his shield absent, and if anyone happens to run into him there, he'll just give a polite sort of nod before heading straight for one of the only transporters left in the dock. The less who know about this, the better. He doesn't want to get anyone involved unnecessarily, especially those who might not have the means to protect themselves from whatever is there, and he sets the autopilot for some location just beyond the outpost rather than directly to it. Staying on the Moira meant safety, but he couldn't let all those innocent people remain held against their will.
Steve frowns and steps back to take a seat. Even saving a few was better than none, and that's all he can think about. ]
ＣＡＵＧＨＴ ＩＮ ＴＨＥ ＡＣＴ
[ But someone catches him halfway through exploring the dirty streets and less open areas, though he only lets them to not bring too much attention to himself, and rather than fight them, rather than drop the weapons from their hands and knock them through a few tents, he goes passively. The smell is something he'd tried to get used to once he'd left the transporter, but there's something acrid about those that shove him along, looking him over and occasionally prodding at his arm, a thigh, his back. Steve's jaw is clenched tight, gently testing the shackles they slap around his wrists—they're strong. It's not the first time he's been restrained with something this magnetic, but he doesn't have the shield to break through it. He's going to have to rely on his own sense of self-preservation, which has never been particularly good since he'd been young, and when they kick him into a holding stall, he does his best to feign unbalance.
Yet, it doesn't stop there. They don't leave him for a while yet, shoving him to his knees and slipping something sharp beneath the material of his shirt to cut it open before tearing it down his shoulders. Steve's been mad since before he'd stepped foot on the outpost, but this boils his blood, aware of the others around him treated just as roughly, and when someone gets a hand in his hair, jerking his head back, he drives an elbow into their gut as if to prove he isn't entirely docile. He gets slapped for his trouble, oddly hard enough to cause his ears to ring, and then, there are more people holding him - his arms, his head back to to expose his throat - and the one standing over him drags a single finger right beneath his collarbone on his left, which leaves a soft blue mark. Like paint.
They say something he doesn't catch, something the MID doesn't want to translate, and when he opens his mouth to comment, Steve suddenly finds his tongue unwilling to move. He looks up at the next person they're bringing into the stall with him, the familiarity of their clothes and face registering before his vision abruptly blurs. His eyes roll a little, and he falls forward, limp and completely out of it. ]
ＷＩＬＤＣＡＲＤ
[ Feel free to run into Steve before he leaves the cargo bay or anywhere on the outpost. This is just a general holding place for slaves, so any of the crew members are welcome to be in there with him and/or see him. Pretty much open to anything else, but PM if there are any questions! ]
the outpost
For the most part, she's behaved herself. If she's lying bruised and bloody in a corner it's just going to make escape later even harder. Chloe is the type of woman who's done some... pretty distasteful things in her line of work. Above all is the need for survival. If she doesn't survive it, then what was the point.
Which means she normally keeps her head down and watches out for herself, but when she sees the man in the stall across from her taking a beating, even Chloe gets to a point where she has to call out to the ones who were ringing Steve's ears. Steve's in no condition to protect himself now.]
Hey! You there! C'mon, leave him alone. He can't do anything, and I'm much more fun to play with, wouldn't you say? Come over here, boys, and keep me company.
[Yes, she's baiting their attention with herself. And she's some good looking bait.]
caught
Though he's been resisting showing any sign of weakness, he can't quite silence the grunt that escapes him as he shifts, working to shove himself upright. His rib is still broken and tender after his run-in with Tex at the end of last month, the fight with the Caducans that soon followed only exacerbating it. And now he's right back in a situation where giving it time to heal doesn't seem to be an option. That paired with his aching head and the fresh bootprint in his back make moving at all fun.
Eventually, Wash gets himself sat up, propped against one of the walls of the stall, and that's when his gaze finally comes to a proper rest on the other body in there with him. Familiar, if vaguely so. A face he's seen around the Moira and on the network, but only actually spoken with once. ...Steve, he thinks. Well, at least he's not the only one from the ship who somehow ended up here. Exhaling and wrapping one arm over his sore torso, Wash reaches a leg out and nudges the other man with his foot. Mostly he's checking for any sign of life, but if it garners any results beyond that, that's acceptable, too. ]
Caught
Adrien was shoved through the door when it was just Steve laying, crashed out on a pallet. Of course he recognized the man, it was hard not to recognize Steve, particularly shirtless. There weren’t many people in the universe with a physique like Rogers, as well as the face. The truth was, Adrien may or may not have been staying out of Steve’s way, since re-boarding the Moira, while he worked through some of the issues in his head.
There were a lot of issues in his head.
However, here and now was not the time for that sort of personal indulgence. Apparently Steve had been deemed valuable enough that his owner/broker/whatever had paid the hefty sum Adrien’s ‘mistress’ was charging for his services. Not that Adrien wouldn’t have tried to treat the man regardless, just that when he tried to treat people not approved by his ‘mistress’ it earned him a personal thrashing.
Glancing over his shoulder to where his handler and Steve’s owner stood, Adrien glared at them both before he walked over and knelt down, checking on Roger’s pulse. It was there, steady enough and in fact, strong enough that the man should have been conscious. A quick visual exam of the body identified only the odd blue mark, which Adrien reached towards. ]
Negative!
[ His handler barked from the doorway, sharp enough to cause the doctor to jerk. Twisting his head around, he glared at Mr. L&U. ]
Do you want me to help him or not?
[ His handler crossed massive arms and scowled. ]
Touch and you see same result. No help then.
[ The MID was a little odd in how it translated his handler’s guttural language but it was enough for Adrien to get the message. The blue mark seemed to be a tranquilizer of some sort.
Hmmm, having to tranquilize Steve Rogers into submission on a slaver outpost; sounded about right. ]
Then you’ve answered your own question. [ Had there been a question? Err … just going to go with it. ] I need to remove that paint if you want him conscious.
[ Oh but that didn’t seem to be the response they wanted to hear. Steve’s owner and Mr. L&U began a rapid fire exchange of clicks and guttural grunts, Adrien’s MID didn’t even try to keep up but from the body language, he suspected Steve’s owner wanted to keep him under control with the drug, while Mr. L&U was explaining the drug would keep him too subdued to be any use.
Eventually, Mr. L&U walked off and returned a few minutes later with a rag and a bowl of warm water. For the sake of sanity, let’s just pretend it was clean water. He set it down by Adrien and then backed out of the cell. ]
Wake up mad, kill you first. Explain and maybe no die.
[ Oh but Mr. L&U looked amused at his own joke as he closed the cell door and the doctor swore he heard money starting to exchange in hands, as if betting was going on.
Adrien rolled his eyes and reached for the rag and the water. ]
Alright, Rogers. I’m pretty sure I’m the short odds in this, so let’s beat the spread and you not kill me when you wake up. [ He muttered, taking the wetted rag and starting to remove the paint, which would hopefully allow Steve to surface to full consciousness. ]
caught.
The one good thing, perhaps, that comes out of a long career of being a man on a mission; everything else is relegated into the background, white noise that does nothing to help their comrades -- and most especially in regards to watching Steve's back. They go undercover and are accepted easily enough, but they're separated just as easily after; Bucky taken in to be cleaned up and groomed, shaved clean the way the HYDRA scientists had once done for him. He feels just as filthy, soaking in the memories, but he forces himself to detach, to focus on what could possibly happen to Steve out there without him. The man is more than capable of taking care of himself, but he runs through a hundred thousand scenarios in his mind, tension humming under his skin despite outward reticence.
His mission is simple, and he repeats it to himself. Find Steve. Find the others. Get them out using whatever means necessary.
Soon enough, he finds himself shoved out into a stall with a very familiar face: objective one complete. Found Steve. But there is no time to relax when he spots the blue paint on his collarbone, the obvious fact that he's been pumped full of drugs; and he instinctively moves forward to catch him before he can fall over, bracing him upright as he feels a familiar anger and rage spark within him.
It might have come in a different form, but he knows what this means -- HYDRA had always given him a potent cocktail of drugs to keep him amenable whenever they briefed him, and this time Steve had been given largely the same thing (but a lot more). It's chilling, the way he looks so out of it, his eyes unfocused, a reddish imprint on his cheek for his trouble. ]
Steve. Hey. [ Second objective, revised: get him out of here. ]
on the DL
When she spotted him, she followed him to the transport, leaning against the frame as he began the prep for flight.]
Funny meeting you here, Captain. [She gives him a knowing smile as she boards, not even waiting for him to agree to her coming with him. This wasn't going to be a debate.]