thisavrou_log | ( august intro log )

Entry tags:

( august intro log )

Who: Everyone
When: August 1st and on
Where: The Moira
What: New “guests” join the crew on their journey and implement some changes.
Warnings: None for now. Please label your content!

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old but unfamiliar faces
"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once."

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. Any questions you might have would be answered in a straightforward manner as well as an explanation about how the Ingress, the thing that has pulled you onto the Moira, is broken and bringing people here unintentionally. This process also 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 or wrist with only the slightest pinch. From there, you are guided out of the medbay and to your living quarters.

At first, this month seems no more unusual than the previous one for those who have been aboard the Moira for any amount of time. The crew who had landed on the slaver outpost were rescued, and with everyone aboard, the ship has pushed forward into the darker parts of the Runoff. Anyone arriving through the Ingress follows the same routine—moving from the Ingress room into the Medbay for their physical and contract before being assisted by seasoned crew members and helped to their assigned decks. But all familiar things must eventually come to an end: two final travelers come through the Ingress. The first, and most noticeable difference between them and all the others, is their clothing. Both are dressed in standard Moira uniforms, though they bear the insignia of one sharing the same rank as Captains Cúrre and Thán. After a moment to take in all the people on the platform ahead of them, one of the two latest arrivals approaches one of the Ingress panels and begins to manipulate the controls. The Ingress completely shuts down. Unlike before, however, there isn’t an imbalance felt across the ship; everything remains normal and stable.

Utilizing the computer systems located in the Ingress room, they send out the following message to the crew via the MID:
To all those aboard this vessel: I am Ira Phirun, assigned captain of the Moira. First Mate Egan and I will be commandeering all rights to the ship as soon as word is sent to those currently in charge. Expect a more detailed report as soon as all records and logs in Navigation have been reviewed by myself and the First Mate. All questions will be answered in a timely matter. For now, there will be no interruption of daily routine or reprimand if conduct among ranks is broken. Thanks for your time.

Heading to Navigation, the Captain and First Mate, for seemingly unknown reasons, approach Navigator Manasseh and have her show them all records and logs of the Moira. Those working in Navigation when the Captain and First Mate arrive will see Mana greet them in a professional manner. Oddly, the Captain and First Mate act very familiar with the Navigator. They review all documents, but when they come upon news that the Ploiatos is on board, their mostly friendly demeanor shifts quickly. The Captain issues a sharp order, unintelligible to those who are close enough to overhear parts of their conversation, and without any warning at all, Mana loses consciousness and collapses right there on the bridge. Within minutes of this happening, the ship as a whole falls into a low power state with basic functions only. Mana’s MID alerts Medbay, and without hesitation, Captain Cúrre places her in cryo with strict orders to those who work there not to disturb the unit.

As promised, the Captain and First Mate soon address the crew.

☄ lights down low

The lighting has dimmed in all the rooms and halls, the normally crisp air that is pumped from the vents low, and all machines and tech are running at half-speed. These effects can be found throughout the ship. Water in the showers remain hot for only a few minutes before reverting to cold. Recreational equipment powers off not long after it has been turned on. The sanitation and water filtration systems require an hourly manual reboot, and all unused areas of the ship have no power allotted to them until a crew member steps inside. Even then, most functions are not optimal. It’s as if the Moira has been transformed into a dark house with only a candle flickering on the window sill.

☄ reuse & recycle

The Captain and First Mate are quick to establish that this is a new regime and go about making the ship and its crew more efficient in the wake of their change in course and the low power state of the ship itself. This means they will systematically inspect each occupied barracks room and leave notes for what needs to be disposed of or stowed away. Unlike before, this is no longer a pleasure cruise, and each member of the crew is a guest on board; they will not tolerate useless clutter. Anything seen as unnecessary will be either placed into storage in the Cargo Bay or disposed of through the airlock. This new need for efficiency also extends to the need to conserve resources until they reach their destination. The showers are set to an automatic timer to minimize water waste. Those few minutes of hot water are all a crew member is now given. Meals are smaller, bordering on ration sizes, and luxuries are done away with entirely in order to preserve supplies so that the ship can go longer before needing to dock at a planet.

☄ new jobs, same faces

The Captain and his First Mate, as expressed in their addressing of the Moira, explain that work efficiency is a priority. Applications for a head of the following departments will be accepted for a short period: Navigation, the Tower, Medbay, Defense, the Hold, Sanitation, Ingress work, and the Galley/Mess Hall. (Here.) After reviewing what they receive, one head of department will be chosen and tasked with helping crew find positions relevant to those departments and their own skillsets. They will be allowed to retain any positions that they held before that aren’t ship-functional jobs, but they will have to be done in leisure time. In two weeks time, they’ll be accepting department position applications which will be approved, and all those that do not apply will be assigned in accordance with their initial work application. They will also choose three individuals to act as guards of Ploiatos to ensure that there is a rotation available at all times. Will you choose to follow this new decision and promote yourself into a position of responsibility? Or will you simply wait for a reassignment?

( ooc; For questions, go here. Please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! )

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I'm gonna end up barfing, and it's not even gonna be worth it. [ Andyr's whining petulantly, into his bowl of flavored water and bits of starch. so much freaking sodium.

but he's starving (he's always starving), so it's this or nothing. as nick speaks, andyr tries to shovel some of the ramen into his mouth, making a squished up face and muttering a 'that tastes like ass' to himself, as nick goes on. at the end, he's frowning down into his miserable sodium-water, rolling it around in his head. ]

Seriously? Where were they getting the money from?

[ they were just... mad spending for the hell of it, were they? the part of andyr who lived in overcrowded slums as a kid is just appealed at the very thought of it. ]

Are you sure?

It seems like people are going to be busy on the ship, I wouldn't want to make any trouble for him.

Saitama-sensei has taught me that regular intervals for rest are important for staying strong.

[ more like i could use a drink, she thinks but doesn't say. alcohol and a situation she's unsure of are a bad combination. but damn if it hasn't been one of those kinds of days. ]

Alright. I could go for something to eat. [ and maybe something caffeinated. ] Lead the way.

[ since she has no idea where they're going and, familiar face or not, does not feel like giving someone her back right about now. ]

[ raiden. raiden, who isn't quite human, who doesn't seem alarmed by or afraid of tretij. .. well. he really doesn't have much of a reason right now, does he? eli's given him no orders, and despite being startled by raiden's appearance, he'd controlled his impulse to violence.

the question makes him stiffen in the air, chin tilting up faintly. of course he can take care of himself. if he doesn't, who else will? he's a monster, a demon, and those kinds of things are by default alone. (except for eli, who has been the exception to all his unwritten rules.)

he relaxes again a moment later, though, slowly beginning to radiate interest as he drifts cautiously closer. a hand comes up, scarred fingers reaching as if they want to touch raiden's arm-- but they pause a few inches away and fall once more, face lifting to peer up at the older man.

hurt?

an impression--brief, almost too clear-- (fire in his veins, a hundred or a thousand voices overlapping in his head, tearing at his sanity. darkness. rough hands snatching at his arms, holding him down. once more, number three.) the impression winks out again a moment later.

and then, the small whisper of his psychic voice again: hurt--? did it-- ]

You doubt the necessity of your program? [ Spock really has no opinion on the new regime just yet - he hasn't been here long enough or knows about the prior regime to pass judgement.

And a stronger push to reach the origin of the Ingress and get some answers is not illogical, even if it means diverting power to only the necessary functions.

He takes the book from her and flips through a few of the pages to find the plants they're currently standing near. And if he gives off vibes of slight annoyance (not that he would) - Well. Stone knives and bearskins and scrawling handwriting do not make good science. ]

What was your home universe, Miss- [ And did he really forget to introduce himself? ] Apologies. I am Spock. Might I have your name?

[ shepard squints at hawke, both because of what she says and then because of the light. she'd seen the broadcast on the MID but is currently incredibly skeptical about. well. everything. ]

Right. The takeover. Because shuffling around jobs is clearly the best way to make sure things run efficiently.

[ three guesses as to who is already done with this shit. first two don't count. ]

All Might and Recovery Girl say that too.

[ The 6-foot-plus behemoth of a man deigns to look alarmed when he's spoken to, huddled to the side along the many shadows the ship's bathed itself in since his arrival. As if he's been caught doing something questionable with Rose's attempt at conversation— something about a union?

Venom Snake is halfway during the process of recalibrating the blood-red bionic he has in lieu of an actual arm, metal joints opening and closing with soft clicks, when he's taken by surprise by a girl half his size.

Stranger things have happened. ] —Thinking of starting one?

I have extensive notes on Saitama-sensei, and 47 volumes of data have accompanied me through the Ingress. I do not know if his training regimen could assist you, but perhaps you would make the ideal test subject if you have no power of your own.

A | Med Bay/Mess Hall (Dick) ]

[ While a morning topped off with a jaunt through a swirling portal of light to an alternate universe isn't entirely unprecedented, it's remarkable enough that an abrupt drop in power and efficiency hardly feels like a shock by comparison. Interesting, yes. Worthy of investigation, definitely.

It's a relief to have an objective. A mystery, a target, somewhere to direct his frustrated energy other than at the apologetic staff and their crew of misfits. It's time to get to work, which is something he knows how to do.

Even fresh out of the med bay, he's looking like death this morning; dark circles, a pallor to his skin, a few fresh cuts visible on his face and neck, where the crisp new uniform doesn't cover him. He's noticeably favoring his right side, either injured ribs or an arm. Portions are smaller, and Dick was one of the lucky few to miss what probably would have been his only chance at a larger meal back before the change. He'll wave if off if he catches you looking, smiling a little sheepishly. ]

Looks like we’ll all be trimming the fat from now on.

And the metabolic process.

B | Exploration (Nightwing) ]

[ If there’s an upside to the power restriction it’s ease of movement, and less than two hours in Nightwing has already taken the cue, suiting up in his mask and incredibly conspicuous black and blue. There's a grace to his movements that wasn't there before, a sureness that could imply anything from woeful overconfidence to a genuine familiarity with the layout that he has yet to really earn.

He's using the shadows but he isn't really hiding; choosing high perches for ever brief pauses, taking notes and scrolling through MID functions in between. You can find him nearly anywhere on the ship because he intends to see it all; and if anything he moves faster the longer he's at it, a frenetic edge creeping into his movements over time. ]

C | Training Room (Nightwing) ]

[ Catch him at the door of the training room though, and there's an immediate change. He stops right there, frozen for a long moment while understanding clicks into into place. Then a broad grin spreads across his face, all impressed, unguarded awe. ]

Now we're getting somewhere.

D | for Nomo deck room #027 (Dick) ]

[ Sometime much much later Dick has taken the initiative and commandeered one of the top bunks, neatly arranging his small bundle of belongings at the foot (Nightwing suit tucked strategically out of sight). He's dead to the world and likely to remain so for the next 12-16 hours at least, but lucky you, he's also the type who would probably move if you prodded him and asked. You know, in case you had this one staked out first. ]

Edited 2016-08-01 23:23 (UTC)

[ This guy chose to loiter in front of the wrong door.

Tony's distracted enough that he doesn't look too closely at whoever's gargoyling in front of Nomo #001, nor does this seem to particularly disturb him. It's been two months in space, you start getting used to people standing around in inconvenient locations. It doesn't even particularly bother him these days, the same way you acclimate to any vaguely annoying inconvenience.

He could just demand the guy move, of course. But that sounds boring.

Instead he wanders up to the door, casually, and prompts for it to swish open. Venom will find the structure he's using for support vanishing very, very quickly — think fast. ]

My bad. [ He doesn't sound remotely apologetic. ] Just wanted to see if you can fly.

[ 'Sup, new guy. ]

[Liquid heads into the cargo bay like a man on a mission. Take his stuff, will they? At least he was able to keep more things than he'd expected; apparently their idea of extraneous wasn't quite what he was expecting. Still, they'd taken what they'd thought was unimportant junk, when in fact...

In fact, he's just noticing that someone is handing a very familiar pile of junk. It may look like a pile of scrap metal and other useless things, but it is in fact a pile of crude weapons fashioned out of said junk.]

Ah, there it is.

[He stalks over towards the man who's currently got his things. Sure, he doesn't really need a bunch of weapons fashioned out of sharpened metal wedged into hunks of plastic and the like when he has proper knives and a nice collection of guns, but he wants them.

It's simply being prepared, as far as he's concerned. Besides, they took some effort to make.]

How angry do you think they'd get if I smuggled those out?

Um... I already do. Have power, I mean.

What kind of training was it?

One hundred sit-ups, one hundred push-ups, one hundred squat thrusts and a 10k run every day. Saitama-sensei insists that this was the training regimen that made him strong.

Merali. Fatima Merali.

[She folds her arms, fighting off a sense of pride. Her records may be primitive, but they're very thorough. Fatima knows her plantlife. It was one of the few non-Noddist ideals that her mother hammered into her.

And it's served her well.

Beside each plant's name, she lists a genus and species of a comparable earth plant. Everything from mint to tomatoes. And strawberries. But those are real strawberries, brought over from Zelien.]

I don't know if my home universe has an official name, but I'm from a city called Los Angeles. California. Earth.

[And not Middle Earth, Mr. Pointy Ears.]

Why is that?

[That's either the voice of a 100-year old chain smoker or an alien talking to you there, Jensen.

Thane realizes he wasn't actually being addressed, but the man's statement pings his curiosity enough he replies regardless. And of course, he's polite enough to emerge from the shadows he's been lurking in to do so, as well.

'Sup.]

[ behind the mask, tretij snorts dismissively, flashing eli an image of enormous teeth chasing the dog. --the dog may bite, but tretij bites back and bites harder. so to say. .. not that he'd actually hurt eli's dog. probably, anyway. not if eli seemed attached to it. tretij himself doesn't have a lot of experience with animals, after all; he barely remembers his home village, and he's not had a lot of opportunity to interact with them since he was taken from there.

he pauses at the emotion practically radiating from the older man, suddenly not sure how he should respond. it's so hard for him to actually put words or even concrete thought to what eli is to him, or why he.. cares? about him. he'd only come aboard at all because he'd sensed the older man here. he'd put up with that exam and the thing around his wrist so that he could just see eli again. he's.. very important to tretij. maybe the only person in the world that actually matters to him.

after a moment, he pulses slightly confused and shaky affection at the blond. he's happy to see him, too, even if--to his mind--they were together not that long ago. ]

[Fatima doesn't trust the new captains. Sure, she didn't trust the old captains, but there's something of a Madonna song in it all. Paved paradise and put up a parking lot.

She should have expected it, really. The other shoe was bound to drop eventually. But fortunately, she's been preparing for such an eventuality. And with the new food rations imposed, she's been working double-time in her hydroponics garden. Not that she can actually sustain the entire crew, but it's a form of contentious objection.

Loaded with a crate of strawberries, she's making her way to the barracks when he stops her. And Fatima does a literal double-take.]

Jim Kirk?

[It's the first familiar face she's seen from Zelien--other than not!Jefferson--since arriving. And it brings any number of feelings that she thought she had good and suppressed.]

[ Seeing someone approaching him out of the corner of his good eye, Jesse looks up quickly (a bad move because Christ is he aching like hell all over) - and he immediately freezes. Both hands clutching the ends of his hoodie zipper that he's still trying to do up, fear locking up on his busted up face. Oh shit, that is one scary ass looking dude. Oh shit, oh shit.

Jesse swallows hard and tries with all his might not to back up against the wall as the guy approaches him. Sure, the guy is holding his hands up in gesture of trying to calm Jesse down but his fucking face, yo! ]

Uh. [ Trying so hard to keep his voice steady. ] You mean, uh. You mean those assholes? [ Thumb jerking over his shoulder in gesture to the medbay. ] Nah. Nah, man. I just. I just got here. I mean, they- they made me sign a contract and shit, but…

[ His voice dies away as he swallows hard again while staring up at this guy. ]

[His endurance is good enough he should be able to do all of that. But what he really needs to do is increase the upper limit of how much he can lift and throw without his quirk active.]

I can at least try it.

[The garden is Fatima's baby. She's been working there almost non-stop since she got the pilot up and running. And she resents the fact that her program might be in danger.

Resents it enormously.

So she's spending as much time as possible. But a girl has to sleep. And occasionally use the lukewarm shower.

She's just returning after a brief hiatus, high heels clacking on the floor. And then she spots a stranger. In her garden.

Okay, not her garden.

Except it's kinda her garden!]

Hey...are you lost?

-Arrival-

[So, kind of a lot had happened to Drift over the course of the last few hours. He and Ratchet had unexpectedly reunited with part of the Lost Light's crew, learned that there had been a mutiny aboard the ship and everyone was stranded on the fucking Necrobot's planet wow, and they were pinned down by Decepticons. Lots of Decepticons. Lots of Decepticons that included the DJD and Overlord. Because when shit hits the fan, it has to hit the fan as spectacularly as possible, apparently. Rodimus had pulled everyone in for a pre-battle group hug--

Aaand now Drift was here, confused and disoriented, and he wasn't happy about it. Not that he had been particularly looking forward to charging out and fighting the DJD, but now he had no way of getting back, no way of knowing what was going to happen or who was going to survive, if anyone. He was stuck. He couldn't decide if he was more pissed off or more worried but boy buddy was he ever not in a good mood.

Still, he reeled it in, and at the very least managed to not look as bad as he felt. As soon as he was through the whole new arrival process, he'd set off to find out if anyone else had ended up here. His hopes weren't too high.]

-lights down low + exploring. spooky dark exploring. ooOOoooOOo-

[Okay so maybe when the lights barely functioned wasn't the best time to try to get a feel for a new place, but psh Drift was going to do it anyway. It wasn't so dark that he couldn't see at all, but considering there were a bunch of little organics running around, he was especially mindful of where he was stepping. He'll be peeking in pretty much wherever a Cybertronian can fit because hey why not.]

-wildcard YOLO-

[whatever you want wherever you want i just got off work my brain is jelly]

[Fatima was devoting all of her time and energy to the garden lately. But a girl has to eat. Sleep. Sometimes take a lukewarm shower. And, for a dhampir of the Order of the Silver Crescent, unwind. Which means training.

She loves going at the punching bag. Especially while wearing her high heels. It's been a continuous point of contention between her and the Sensei, but hey, you never know what you're going to be wearing when a Cainite attacks you.

And anyway, she likes having her gorgeous legs.

She glances up when she hears an unfamiliar voice, in between her precise and even blows.]

Actually, I don't think we're going anywhere. Mostly, I think we're just going in circles or something.

Ingress (CW: character death)

"Evaluation complete: system faulty.
"Initiating format."

The caretaker's dry, flat voice carries only the faintest note of satisfaction as it's punctuated with the sharp click of a depressed key. The effect is immediate. The mainframe's calls ("Arid, help!") cut off amid a burst of static, matrix locked to the control panel and ruthlessly marked out for purge.

He can feel his external systems, but he can't network or escape. The display above flickers wildly as he thrashes against the new partitions, barely making it as far as audio. Years--decades--modulating every shade of tone and pitch, learning to speak with all the nuance he could generate. Now? It's just enough for the AI to beg with. "No, no, stop--!" "Please..." It makes no more difference than any of their desperation had. There's an irony there, something bleak and far too hopeless. He doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to lose himself, but memory is vanishing row by row, the quick tap of keys blocking every effort to evade...

Audio surges out to static, and the world cuts out completely. He has a fraction of an instant to grope frantically for the lost connections, to compress his files, flinching in. Then the terminal resets.

"<Welcome to Domesticon. Working together today, for a more efficient tomorrow.>"

The words echo through the Ingress room, coming from a small speaker inset in what looks to be some kind of damaged computer. It's cheerfully robotic, a male monotone void of any inflection at all. At least, until the same voice speaks again, sounding much more human. And afraid.

"...Arid?"

Used computer free to good home

Having been dragged at least as far as the hallway, the mainframe is... still not much clearer on his current circumstances. Most likely, neither is anyone passing him by. If it weren't for the array of snapped wires and empty ports emerging from the back, the solid brick of keyboard and attached screen might pass for a large laptop. As it is, those familiar with technology won't have much difficulty identifying the terminal as only a piece of some kind of larger system. One of the Ingress computers? Maybe, though the decor doesn't seem to match.

Wherever its origin, the system doesn't seem to be doing much of anything. The screen glows a dim yellow, displaying a few lines of warnings and a default menu. The keyboard has a speaker inset at the front. Want to check it out? Stick it in a backpack? Or maybe you're just a victim of the Moira's latest tripping hazard.

Certainly, it's going nowhere on its own.

Big Brother... says hi?

A different universe. A faulty portal. By this point, he's received the basic story, and bizarre as it still sounds, the offer of a contract after made it clear just how far from home they really were. A few questions (and at least half a dozen very surprised recalculations) later, and the mainframe AI of Domesticon repurposing depot #127 has a room assignment, a job, and a listing in the registry aboard the Moira.

It's more than he could have expected. It's more than makes sense, and when their own evaluations stop at basic virus scanning... well, he's gonna need a separate file for those questions soon. That's fine. He'll have the chance to look for answers, and that's a better deal than any options found at home.

Besides. This place is packed!

When he's first linked into the ship systems, it's all the mainframe can do to take it all in. His access is limited to crew data and public feeds, but there are easily a hundred living sapients occupying the halls. Humans, droids... other. Forget files, he's marking out a whole new database for this. Still, first things first.

"<Performing hardware analysis...>"

You might be walking in the halls, sitting down for lunch, or entering the rec room. Whatever the mostly-unoccupied, publicly accessible space, there will be a slight flicker of the lights. A flat, prerecorded-sounding comment over the speakers. And a very different tone that speaks up shortly after that.

"Oh! Hey, I didn't spot you there. Sorry about that."

Careful observers will find that the nearest camera has turned to fix on them.

[[ooc: <bracket-text> is monotone, regular is... regular. Feel free to spam or prose; I'll match!]]

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Page 9 of 231

( august intro log )

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Dick Grayson | DC Comics

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cargo bay

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» hallways

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Lights Down Low

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Garden

Drift | Transformers MTMTE (IDW) | OTA

Training Room

Mainframe AI | The Fall | Open!