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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?
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hownkai) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-08-01 12:13 am
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then again, maybe he'll just piss him off even more, and we'll be worse off than we started. either way, andyr doesn't make any move to get away from him, or welcome him, only responds dryly. ] I don't drink, I don't smoke, I don't spar, not interested in sex, and you don't want me taking it out on punching bags unless you're volunteering to clean up the mess.
[ the simulations can at least account for his strength, and given he isn't actually hitting anything that won't disperse into pixels, there's no damage to cause to anything. the training equipment in the regular rec rooms isn't so lucky. ]
no subject
Snakes consider the comment about making a mess with the punching bags. Maybe this kid is one of those among the crew who's gifted with unbelievable amounts of strength. Snake's seen that kind of thing firsthand, when Clark had flown him and a whole car full of kids to safety. But still, being scared of your own strength isn't going to fix the problem.
Instead of assuming too much, Snake keeps it simple as he walks side-by-side with the stranger. ] Why don't you spar?
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but that's not entirely true, is it? more difficult to ignore right now, when he's worked up and all of it's at the surface. maybe part of it are, but in reality, he doubts those instincts of his would fizzle out from more control training sessions here or there. and that's the core of the real problem - in hapsburg, he'd completely given up any level of restraint. when a hand landed on him, and he felt that instinct to take it and start pulling the body attached apart, he'd just let himself go. given the guards usually came in groups - three or more - he had trained himself how to kill quickly and move on, but when it came to it, he'd just let himself snap, and now, as it had earlier, when Snake called out to him, his body moves before his mind catches up to stop it.
that, and the fact the entire set up of a control practice fight makes takes his mind back to a life he'll never have again - training in his father's school, going to tournament and competitions for the sport of it. the thought of it isn't something he can stomach, and when they enter the rec room, with the training mats in the center, a glance is shot towards them, before he turns, and heads to the free weights. ] People die when I fight. Apparently that's a problem here.
no subject
That's even more reason to learn how to spar. If you can't fight without someone ending up dead, then sparring will be a lesson in control. [ Anyone who enters into a fight should be capable of disabling people instead of outright killing them. The irresponsibility that comes with not having that choice is enough to make Snake's skin crawl. Someone that unhinged shouldn't be fighting at all, frankly.
He sets a hand on his waist and looks the kid up and down, wondering if he wants to go so far as to offer to train him personally. It's not something he makes a habit of doing, but a situation like this is going to require someone experienced, and he happens to fall into that category. ] There's going to be times where you'll have to fight here. If you get too out of control, they'll ditch you on the next planet or lock you up.
cw: mention of gore/torture
I know how to spar. I taught at a competitive martial arts school for three years. [ 400, 500, 600... He stops there for a second, looking down at the barbell like it's the sole cause of this entire issue for him. He knows how, he knows how it works, he knows what you're supposed to do, how to hit, how much to pull punches. The problem is that his mind snaps and his body acts before he can catch up. Whatever it is - anger, fear, desperation. It takes hold so, so fast, and for all these years it hasn't been a simple episode of PTSD. It was very literally him trying to escape being strapped down for another vivisection. Needles in his spine, bonesaws ripping him open, hands inside his ribcage. He closes his eyes a quick moment, and reaches down for the bar. ] Just not what I am anymore.
[ However, instead of a typical lift, Andyr's grabbing the bar with one hand in the center, and lifts it up easily, like a dumbbell, pressed up overhead. As if to say, this is what you're hit with if I snap. For even a second, if he can't stop himself, this is what goes into someone's face or throat or solar plexus. ]
no subject
People are changed for any number of reasons. Because of life in general, because they're put through something impossible but survive anyway, or even because of someone who they meet. When the kid lifts six hundred pounds with only one arm, though, it's pretty obvious that he's been changed in ways beyond what Snake could imagine.
It's hard not to think of Frank in that moment. An incredible soldier, tortured and rearranged until he was nothing but a killing machine. Snake remembers the bloody, dismembered bodies scattered all over that hallway at Shadow Moses. He remembers Frank's bloodcurdling screams.
Snake crosses his arms over his chest as he watches the kid lift, tilting his head as he poses a question. ] So if our ship's boarded again and we're attacked, or someone here's controlled and comes at you without meaning to, what do you plan to do?
no subject
However, that was when he thought he’d die in Hapsburg, no use for the pieces of him that still knew how to be human. Suddenly being on the Moira, it’s been more than difficult to adjust. As is fairly obvious now. ]
If I kill someone trying to kill me, that’s self-defense, isn’t it? [ to Andyr, all the bodies he left back home, all the massacres he caused, whether the guards were actively coming after him or just in the way at the time, he’d considered self-defense. After all, he was a captive, wasn’t he? And here they were, signed onto the work and well aware of exactly what torture was being visited on him and others like him. They may as well have been holding the needles themselves, so far as he’s concerned. For someone unable to help themselves? It’s like the cage fights. ] You don’t get booted for self-defense. And that’s very specific anyway.
[ He didn’t want to kill those people put in the ring with him, but they’d shot them both up with adrenaline and aggression cocktails. No hard feelings towards the clone stuck in there with him, but he’s too used to kill or be killed to take this as something out of the question. And yet, that’s what Snake’s posing it as, and Andyr’s frowning some, eyes unfocused towards the far wall, as he pushed out several reps of overhead presses with the bar in hand. ]
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Very specific, but not outside the realm of reason. This place has a way of messing with us. You should be capable of non-lethal methods of handling a fight. [ It's little more than common sense, and Snake would like to hope that the kid can see reason. They're on a ship where they're expected to get along. That means sometimes, taking a life isn't going to be the right answer.
Snake watches as that barbell pumps up and down in the air. It's impressive, no doubt about it, but there's also nothing natural about it. He has to wonder if this kid was born that way, like Clark, or if there's something more to it. He's got a hunch. ]
You're worried you're gonna hurt someone when you don't mean to, I get that. But there's only one way to do this. There are people on this ship who are experienced in combat. I'm one of them. Not saying it's gotta be me, but you should find someone. [ Snake crosses his arms and watches the kid for a reaction. He's going out of his way to make this point because he thinks it's important to the well-being of the crew, and he'd rather not see some tragic post show up on the MID a few months down the line when something goes horribly wrong. But he also knows a lost cause when he sees one, and he's waiting to find out which direction this kid will tip toward. ]
no subject
But then there was that playfight with Steve. He’d almost snapped every bone in his hand just because it was pushing at his chest. Then, he hadn’t even been in a mood. Even what he’d done in play had been brutal, likely to bruise later.
This man’s right, he does need to learn to stop himself before someone who isn’t meant to be hurt is. And yet, another part of his mind is buzzing, anxious and tense. The but what if the Ingress sends be back tomorrow part, knowing that just reacting without restraint has saved him on many occasions. And somewhere beneath that, worried about what other flood gates might open if he lets this one part go. Keeping himself sane back home had been such a process, such a strict mutation of who he’d been.
But he can’t be sent off the ship. Not with Alva, Val and Miray still here. Dropping the barbell, it gives a resounding clatter against the mat, and his eyes finally lift back up to Snake’s. ] You enhanced at all? Durability, speed, anything?
no subject
He slips a smoke out of the pack and places it into his mouth about the same time that the barbell's dropped, all those hundreds of powers of weight sending reverberations through the ship's floor. Snake knows that it would take more than that to send anything off-balance on the Moira, but it's disconcerting all the same.
After taking a quick look around the room, Snake re-centers his gaze on the kid and shakes his head. ] Nothing like that, but I've been training at this since I was younger than you. It's not a hobby. [ Snake can't imagine why it would be a hobby for anyone, but he figures he should make the point anyway. He's a professional, simple as that.
Snake lights up and takes a drag on the smoke before he speaks again. ] If you want someone who fits that profile, though, I don't think you'd have to look too hard. [ Snake doesn't need to be his trainer, but he'd sleep a little better at night if he knew that the kid found one. ]
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I've been training at this since I could walk. [ which, granted, still wasn't the kind of experience snake has, but it came from a man much like him. ] Spec ops dad. Ran an academy.
[ however, up until 17, it'd just been martial arts styled sport and tournaments. it didn't become anything lethal or truly practical outside of self defense in a shitty neighborhood until a year or so before hapsburg, when they were getting ready to pull jehanne out. then, the six years after that, had been what made him into what he is now. someone who snaps and goes for the throat without a second thought the moment anyone so much as brushes a hand against him. the control he's had to exercise just to stay calm most of the time on this ship has been more than a strain. ]
If you're willing to risk your skull getting caved in, fine. [ and hopefully security cameras somewhere will testify to the fact Snake requested it. but truth be told, andyr doesn't want to go around asking anyone else, doesn't even really want to be doing things, but he knows the logic of it, knows it's sound. leaving the weight behind near the racks, he goes pacing out towards the sparring mats at the center of the room, shoulder tensing just as he steps into the area. ]
no subject
Besides, it sounds like those skills had come in handy for him later down the line.
It's not like Snake is looking to get his head caved in, but somehow he doesn't think it'll go that way. The kid's probably got more control than he realizes, if he'll just put the effort in. That being said, Snake isn't going to rush right into one-on-one sparring either, if there's a chance it's really as bad as what the kid's saying. ]
Once the sims are back online, I'll take a look and see what you can do. We'll go from there. [ It sounds reasonable, even if Snake doesn't consider himself much of a teacher. Maybe Miller would be the better person to handle this, but... he's got enough on his plate already, and it's about time that Snake stepped up. ] What's your name? [ Snake follows and pauses by the edge of the mat, watching with curiosity. ] I'm Snake.
no subject
he couldn't keep andyr safe from the people who'd wanted to take him, but what he'd taught him had at least given a seventeen year old enough ability to cling to some sliver of dignity, some weak strand of pride that he's been clutching ever since in a desperate grab to hold onto his sanity. something to say they haven't broken me yet.
andyr nods for the suggestion. that seems like the smarter route. the sims will hopefully be back up soon, and andyr will feel much more at ease with it if it's just pixels he's ripping apart. and snake can make the choice of if he really wants to try to fix this. ]
Andyr. What kinda name is Snake?
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Andyr's hardly the first person to comment on Snake's title. He shrugs one shoulder. ] A codename. [ It's as simple as that, and at least some people are able to make extrapolations about him from that small piece of information.
It's enough to tip most off to the fact that he's some kind of special ops, at least.
Snake crosses his arms over his chest then, waiting to see what Andyr's going to do on the mat. He'd like to be impressed, but that remains to be seen. Andyr may have lifted that barbell, but that's a product of pure strength alone. It doesn't tell Snake much about skill level. ]
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It seems more like an obstacle course than anything else. Less to show Snake anything, as that’ll apparently happen in the sims, but more because he feels a need to move. ]
So what’s your real name? [ he’s remarking while he works. ] Or is it just that you get to know mine and I don’t get to know yours?
[ which doesn’t seem fair, and yeah, he’s acting miffed about it, part because he’s a brat and part because he doesn’t trust people to begin with - even more when they’re outright withholding information. ]
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Strange as it might seem, it isn't that common for someone to outright ask for Snake's name like this. Meryl had done it, and so had Otacon, but that had been during an extreme situation where they'd thought their lives were at stake.
So at the question, he nods. ] Pretty much. Sorry, kid. In my line of work you don't give out information like that to someone you've just met.
[ Maybe he'll tell Andyr eventually, but even then it's only likely to happen if Andyr continues to bother him about it. The kid can be annoyed by it, but he could have given out an alias too if he'd wanted, and Snake wouldn't have thought twice about it. ]