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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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hownkai) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-07-19 01:11 am
no subject
Why did he need those directives? It was all a ruse, and humans rarely fell into the Underground anyway. So what was the point of it all, especially when he'd ultimately been unable to thwart the one human he fought against?
...Honestly, the answer was simple.]
I was programmed that way because the only thing a monster has to fear is a human being and their determination. But human killing directives translate easily to killing others, as you can see.
[Or maybe Zam hadn't seen yet that Mettaton was good at what he did in a way that was indeed disquieting.]
no subject
Not that Zam’s one to judge.]
Would this be easier for you if we were only killing humans? [It’s nigh impossible to communicate tone through text, but Zam doesn’t mean it as condemnation -- it’s a genuine question.]
no subject
Would it be easier? Is it easy to murder? Am I good at murder? If I am, does it really matter who I am murdering?
Despite being robotic, the emotions he experiences cause Mettaton to feel just as uncomfortable as he looks. Sometimes it's not about actually having internal organs when you feel nauseous. It's...a feeling borne of emotional turmoil in his case. He feels it as he thinks over all of this.]
No. Well, I'm not certain...maybe it would be? I don't believe so.
no subject
I’ve met assassin droids before. Killed a lot of them too. I always assumed they enjoyed doing what they were built to do.
[The ones sentient enough to feel enjoyment, anyway. The ones who weren’t at least didn’t feel regret.]
But you don’t enjoy this? Not at all?
no subject
I'm not just a "droid" as you put it. And besides which, I didn't assume that you would find me so simplistic after we've spoken at length.
[It's like Luke all over again. Just assume he follows his programming, right? To be fair, he hardly explained why he wasn't just any old robot because maybe he was afraid of admitting what he really was. Just a bit...]
I can feel regret. And just because I can kill people doesn't mean I enjoy it.
no subject
Sorry. You see droids everyday in my galaxy. You get used to them having some things in common. Sometimes I forget other places don’t play by the same rules. [Maybe she should’ve known better. Mettaton certainly doesn’t talk like most droids, but Zam had chalked that up to a particularly unique personality matrix. But if he says there’s something more behind it, Zam’s inclined to believe him.]
So whoever made you gave you the ability to kill humans. But not the desire to. [Seems pretty cruel way if you ask Zam. Unless his creator had had no control over his personality at all.]
no subject
You could say that. It's complicated, and it's not her fault. She did her best to suit both our needs, and at the time...that is what the king would have wanted. An inorganic machine to do the killing that he didn't have the malice to carry out effectively.
[Alphys made his body this way because she wanted to impress people. And hey. He wanted to impress people too.
But not like this.]
no subject
He could’ve just hired someone. [Funny, that someone like Zam would be less likely to regret the task then someone literally built for the job.]
no subject
He had the Royal Guard for that. But...monsters aren't inherently violent. Not to that extent. Maybe Undyne...but. I was alright with it. With the idea of hurting humans.
[His tone and backpedaling makes it clear that at this point, he's fishing for justification.
But then he says something that...really, in his mind, is irredeemable at this point. He hides it, he pushes it away and says "that's not me anymore" to himself. But it's ugly, even as he says it.]
Did you know I almost killed someone on the ship once? Frisk. I almost killed them.
no subject
proving what everyone says about their kind.Still, it’s what Mettaton says next that really gets Zam’s attention. She stares for several seconds, looking genuinely shocked. When she finally reaches for the keyboard again, there’s only one word in the projected message.]
Why?
no subject
[A pause as he thinks that response over, and he's quickly shaking his head.]
Mm, no. That's not true. I wanted their soul so I could get out and follow my own dreams. I only needed one soul to do that, as opposed to the seven needed to break the barrier. Just one would do.
[He's not comfortable admitting it, especially knowing damn well that, at the time, he could have just passed the soul onto Asgore and allowed him to break the barrier. Then everyone would be free.
After finishing speaking, he buries his face into his own knees, curling up tighter. He wanted to disappear.
Why was Mettaton doing this to himself?
...Because he deserved it. He deserved to feel like a bad person, especially after how many he had murdered under the command of his slaver.]
no subject
But… Mettaton hadn’t killed them, had he?
Eventually, Zam reaches for their MID again and types out another message.]
What stopped you?
no subject
Frisk. Frisk stopped me. They are a very determined little human, you know. They only fought to disable, and it worked! And then I conceded.
[He started to regret for his fellow monsters and what he meant to them. What they meant to him.
But that was another subject.]
I regretted it later. We're friends now, because Frisk is so determined to find the good in people, and they reminded me that somewhere in this shell, there's a decent person.
no subject
Still, that they had only fought to disable and befriended their would-be killer afterward?]
Sounds like them.
[She's still not looking at him, but there is some small amount of guilty relief in hearing he regrets it now. She didn't want to hate him. Her words are nonetheless harsh.]
If you could bring yourself to try and kill then, you can do it now.
[It's encouragement. Of a sort.]
no subject
I know that. It's what I'm doing anyway, right? We're just taking it in turns.
[He's had his turn. So has Zam.]
If I did not have to though...I would prefer not to do this, I think. I've done enough damage.