EVENT ★ BACK TO THE FUTURE

[futurologists]

BENDED TIME As outlined in the OOC post, things start to slow down and grow quiet in Oska for a few days as the bugs crawl away and slowly disappear. But then the cocoons hatch. Fully grown temporal insects claw their way out of them, each about the size and temperament of raging bulls. They come out far more aggressive and eager to fight, are are willing to take on anything that moves with jaws and claws alike. Except, of course, another insect — when two of them encounter each other, they enter into a mating dance and then slip away into another dimension, leaving behind only the temporary ghosts of years gone by. If you can’t find a way to pierce that thick shell to take one down, better find another one to pair it off with instead. Just try not to get bit while leading them around and find yourself suddenly 5 years old again. The insects aren’t the only thing going on in Oska, though. As it turns out, unicorns really hate this adult form of the temporal insects, and will start kicking their way out of their stalls in the stables to get at the insects in an attempt to impale or trample them. According to Uruz they’re gallant warriors, but not always quite cut out to take on a bug, and can easily get themselves hurt or killed. She would really appreciate recruits taking a moment to recapture any stray unicorns they may come across and leading them back to the stables. Try to avoid any insects on the way, or you’ll find yourself suddenly fighting insect and irate unicorn, which is no one’s idea of a good time. The lake is getting more active, too. All the fighting has woken up something in the depths of it. Dark red tentacles sometimes creep up onto shore — and don’t worry, this time they don’t belong to a sea goddess. The tentacles don’t attack unless attacked, and can in fact be quite agreeable. Nodes along the length of them act as primitive eyes, which see well enough to interact with anyone nearby. They’re also all a little peckish. Toss a tentacle a bit of food and watch it curl around and ingest it using tiny mouths on the underside. It might even be willing to play a few rounds of fetch or slap a bug into the sky for you if you put it in a good mood with a morsel of food. The senior ALASTAIR members can be seen out and about and doing their part, too. Uruz and Dagny fight as a team, centaur and elf, sometimes fighting back to back and sometimes as mount and rider. They’ll stop and lend a hand, but the cats are a little less generous. Cherenkov and Crowley fight inseparably and use magic and science in deadly combination to ward off and destroy the bugs, but can usually only be seen darting on their way from one place to another. They have a lot of magitek to repair in the destructive wake of the insects. Pomarr, neither as senior nor as invested in actively picking off the bugs, offers shelter near a tentacle-free portion of the lake, calling down storms to toss away bugs for her and anyone in the vicinity. OOC NOTES This log spans a week ICly. Characters will find themselves beginning to understand each other again as the bugs first vanish, as the effects of the cats’ work on the magitek pays off. The translation problem will be completely fixed by the time the cocoons hatch. All of the bugs will have been killed or shipped off by the sixth day, leaving the last day before their departure to the next mission blissfully relaxing. Any temporally misplaced recruits will be back to normal by the last day, as well. A reminder to anyone still texting: the texting feature of magitek jewelry operates based on thought! There are no physical keyboards, recruits merely think the message that they’d like to send to another recruit.

Comments

flashback black widow / ota

[expatriates]

[ all around | 16-year-old black widow | ota ]

[ The days wore on, and with them, Natasha's understanding of the insects. She thought she had it under control. Coax them into meeting one another, lure and eliminate. It was a good plan, until she got cornered by an insect without finding it a partner to abscond with. Everyone slipped up sooner or later.

It got a bite out of her before she put a bullet between its pincers and turned it to the same acid and pulp that the larvae form turned into.

Hours later, as she was getting ready for sleep, the mirror seemed to fracture, spin dark red, throw her back to some forgotten memory. She spun away and retched into the toilet, but nothing came up.

She hadn't thrown up like that since the first time she'd shot someone—another Black Widow, one who hadn't been capable of doing it. She waited until no one could see her to do it, but they'd still found out. Nat squeezed her eyes shut and willed it away, but there was a calming serenade creeping into the back of her mind like a music box, half-broken and off-key.

When she grabbed the counter and righted herself, her hair curled around her too-young face in a loose, flat mat of oily hair that hadn't been looked after since she started training. She pushed it away from her mouth, considered her appearance coldly, then forced her hair up into a ponytail.

She got dressed and left in the middle of the night to comb the facility not for insects, but for memories—the facility felt like a half-remembered dream for her, and each familiar face she stopped in front of got the same dazed and hollow stare. ]

[tirejacking]

[Luckily (unluckily?) late at night is prime time for Bat-activity. Jason's settled on being inconspicuous while navigating the unfamiliar interior of the castle. And good thing he did, because he's not alone. He spots her near the mess hall. Stalking through the halls looking dazed and half-there. A little concerning, really. So he decides on turning a corner and colliding with her full-speed.]

Woah, hey! [He'll pretend it's an accident, though. Since he's being inconspicuous, he's not wearing a mask. Co-opted some ALASTAIR basics and hid his gear beneath the coat. (Just another recruit, nothing strange to see here—) And absently, he reaches up to her shoulder to steady her. As he does—] Sorry 'bout that. Say, you know the way to the kitchen?

[He knows where it is. Just finding a reason to talk to her in the first place.]

lmk if this isn't ok!!!! and i will edit

[expatriates]

[ His hand reaches for her shoulder and instinct kicks in before the reserved, measured sense of calm that she had accrued later in life. Natasha's hand shoots up to find his and twists his palm back at the wrist, pressing it just to the verge of breaking as her other palm shoots up to the joint of his shoulder to press him back to arm's length.

The retaliation happens in a second, and it's only after she's done it that she processes the harmlessness of his question.

He is hiding something. He's dressed up in every way to seem normal, but she can see it in the way he walks, the pooching of his uniform. That makes him a threat. Adrenaline pumps into her brain like the steady flood of siren sounds, telling her to push her thumb forward just slightly to finish the break. Instead, she releases him. ]

I don't like being touched. [ She straightens her shirt and moves around him to the hallway on the right. ] Follow me.

don't worry, he deserves it

[tirejacking]

[She moves fast, and he's not expecting it. By the time he's realized he ought to can the innocent act and jerk away, there's a sharp pain rocketing up his nerves. It would only be more startling if he hasn't been pinned like that dozens of times, over and over again in the Batcave, until he learned better. Still, reflexive, his free hand twitches tellingly upward before he puts the breaks on. His posture pulls up tense, brows drawing together, jaw setting in a way that reads as combative more than alarmed. As if clamping down on the reflex to bite back. Most of him is screaming at him to try and break free. The rest of him—

(It's a skilled response, which is remarkable, but otherwise not an entirely unreasonable one, given the circumstances. The part of him that still lives and breathes in the worst backstreets in Gotham finds it pretty justifiable, really. Not in a very good way, but not in a way that doesn't make some kinds of sense. If you don't like being touched that much, odds are you got reasons for that. You learn how to stop it from happening again.)

He didn't bump into her to pick a fight. He weighs his options fast and waits her out, watching sharply until she releases him. Once she does, he keeps his feet planted and his hands to himself as she brushes by, flexing the soreness out of his wrist once he gets it back. Trying to reconcile the first part of that answer with the follow me. (Mapping through his run of the castle for the possible courses to the kitchens in his head to see if any of them line up.)

Since she's apparently obliging him, however—]

Sure you know where you're going?

[The incisive edge on it could easily be chalked up to wounded pride, if one didn't look too close.]

bless his heart

[expatriates]

No.

[ There's no reason not to be honest with him about that, but as her eyes scan the hallways here, she has the indefensible feeling that she's walked this path sometime before. It has all the same weirdness of a waking dream, heavy around her senses, chalk full of inexplicable oddities that she can't quite place—but probably will be able to once she wakes up. ]

Technically, I haven't been there. But I have a feeling, and you asked. So follow me.

[ She repeats it and turns to face him with sharp eyes that wait to see if he'll obey. ]

[tirejacking]

[Weird. Not supervillain weird, just weird. Frowning, he watches her for another few seconds. Then he finally plays along with his own farce and starts to follow a few paces behind, glancing up at the hall to mark where they've been. It's about the right direction for it, so her feeling is actually a pretty good one. Lucky guess, maybe.]

So where've you been, then? [Prying. Just a little.] You just wound up here?

[Had to have been a pretty recent arrival like himself, if she hasn't at least eaten sometime. It would explain the weirdness, maybe. The dazed look. The hypervigilance. Timespace jet lag? Is that a thing. Either way, kitchen seems like a pretty good place to start. His information on the situation is a lot less complete than he'd like, but at the very least, someone ought to warn her about the bugs.]

[expatriates]

[ She nods, even though she's not entirely sure that's true. Something doesn't jive right with her perception; the whole world feels slightly surreal, as though she's weaving in and out of a constant state of deja vu. She doesn't like it. Black Widow thrives on being the one person in the room who knows the most about what's going on. ]

I woke up in a bedroom. [ Duh. She looks up at him, realizing this sounds ordinary. ] One that belonged to someone else, but I was alone.

[ She realizes then that she hasn't been trying to look for a way back to Russia, exactly, but rather trying to test out the environment that she is in using the skills she'd acquired. She's not eager to return to the Red Room, no matter how hard they tried to pretend it was her home. Home isn't a word she knows. ]

What about you?

[tirejacking]

Well, you're not alone anymore.

[Now that he's sure she's not going to bolt on him—or try to break his wrist again any time soon—it's got some irreverent cheek in it. In a trying-too-hard-but-not actually-very-serious kind of way. He even throws her a grin, once she takes her eyes off the castle long enough for it. Tough crowd.]

Same thing. [And his grin fades a little as he recalls it. Some unfamiliar room in the castle. A small collection of firearms on the table, along with something that might have been a motorcycle helmet. No identifying information about who it might have belonged to, or if they were even responsible. They pass a small side door, and he stalls, looking thoughtful.]

Hang on, this way.

[expatriates]

[ In a way, that was unnerving to hear. She had been both surrounded by people constantly and painstakingly isolated for such a long and paradoxically concurrent period of time that she felt starved for companionship and repulsed by it simultaneously. It took a beat longer for her to process his cheeky grin and recognize it for the joke that it was.

She cracked a smile. That's what they said she should do. Mirroring, it was called. It made people more at ease. But her smile was fragile and faint, not as bold and warm as his, and she wondered how he got it that way. How hard had Jason been forced to work on it?

Their sudden stop interrupted her train of thought. ]

Why? [ She turned to stare at the door. ] How do you know anything about this place if you just got here too?

[ Prying back. She pursued him, earnest in her task because she suddenly wondered if he'd had the same lingering sense that he knew the place, that he knew where he'd woken up, but couldn't place why, just like she had. ]

[badnewsboy]

[ making sure that the insects were gone and out of sight was a hefty job. Loki was sure he hardly made a dent in their numbers, as the more that he lured together, the more seemed to pop up (the thought that they were reproducing and damning them to a cycle of constant bugificiation had crossed his mind, one he desperately tried to forget afterward), and pretty soon he was left partially exhausted in a foreign place that had little comforts available to him.

it's not long before he notices eyes on him. the stare is something that he's used to, even from a foreign face, but there's something about it that's particularly unnerving, so he breaks the silence by greeting. ]

Er—yes, hello!

[expatriates]

[ The face was familiar in a number of ways, as though it spoke to something that resonated deep in her chest on levels she didn't understand, but when he spoke, his voice was wholly unfamiliar. The tension that wound Natasha tight like a spring, dead-eyed and dangerous, loosened in a sudden sag. ]

Have you been here long?

[ There's something unnerving in her stare still, but it could just be the way her eyes are, wide and bright against her pale skin. But she holds it too long and her voice is too soft. ]

[badnewsboy]

[ while Loki was hoping against familiarity, he gets it all the same.

something in him thrums to bolt, a sense of danger that he hardly finds reason to listen to in his recklessness, but the more he looks at her, the more that it seems to resonante. not the Daimon Hellstrom resonante, but something else. ]

Ah—mmm ... no. This is all completely new! [ against his better judgement, here. ] So, what about you? Come here often?

[ as if inserting humor anywhere would gain some kind of pleasant reaction. ]

[expatriates]

I don't remember.

[ And to a certain extent, that admission jars her because it could just as easily mean that something was stolen from her as it could mean that the eerie, creeping sensation of deja vu is manufactured by her mind to try and rationalize her presence here. It would not be the first sentiment stolen from her by the people who made her. They had their reasons, she's sure, but now she has to wonder. ]

It feels like it, doesn't it? Like we've all been here …

[badnewsboy]

[ that's even worse than no to him. can't remember carries some bad connotations with it, weighty and full of doubt. while he keeps his distance, he also relaxes a little, canting his head to the side. ]

Um ... well, I suppose it sort of does, doesn't it? Someone told me that this is where people take care of the timeline, and it's in trouble because of all the bugs.

[ we'll just not talk about this ever after it reverses. ]

I'm not certain of getting back, but it almost seems like this place needs our help.

[expatriates]

Help?

[ The very notion seemed anathema to everything she'd been taught. There was no help. They were too weak to survive, and they were an enemy until proven otherwise—what cause had Black Widow to intervene? She furrowed her brow to fix on the boy. ]

If the bugs are causing trouble, you should be helping yourself to get far away from here.

[badnewsboy]

[ perhaps it was that Loki had been so swallowed by the expectations of evil among his peers that he had defiantly pushed against it.

or he really did want to help.

he's a skinny, short thing with long limbs and a face that is a friend to clever schemes everywhere. the hood over his face shadows his forehead, but does nothing to dim the color of his eyes. ]

That doesn't really solve the problem, does it? Besides, I'm sure there's some satisfaction to be gained about saving a place of importance.

...

Right?

[expatriates]

[ Satisfaction, maybe, but nothing concrete. Solving the problem has always meant something different to her than to other people. 'Good people.' He made it seem so straightforward and logical, but the logic he used was so foreign to her that she could not follow it.

Curiosity, though. She could follow that. ]

You want to go after them. [ That, she can do. She pulled a kitchen knife from the back of her pants. ] I can solve that problem.

[construing]

[ by then, gwen's figured out what's wrong. simple detective work, especially considering the almost overnight haul of the age bell curve towards the left. spider-sense might be weird these days, but it still went off each time one of the bugs came too close, giving her enough time to get out of the way of big, bitey teeth.

she can, technically, break through the exoskeleton. she did. once. that one time was enough to put her off any more squashing. only reason gwen didn't burn those sneakers is because she doesn't have another pair. she's still halfway tempted.

the blue flats have been kept cleaner. but spider-woman has been liberally applying webs to the vicious alien moths. she has one strung up like a kite when she drops from the wall, looking for a second with which to pair it off. whenever it tries to dive-bomb her, gwen bats it aside. ]

Will you relax? I'm finding a friend for you. Then you can fly off into your mothy sunset or whatever you little mutants do. [ spotting natasha, the moth buzzes angrily at her. before it can get anywhere close, the web pulls taut and it reels back toward gwen. she looks over. ] Hey.

[ her tone shifts from annoyed to friendly. ]

You see any of the guys nearby?

[expatriates]

[ They don't know each other, Black Widow decides quickly. That's not what Gwen is getting at with her remark. Black Widow's eyes shift between Gwen and the creature that she's stringing up, and realizes that she means the insects. Male insects.

What a strange request. ]

What do you plan to do with it?

[ It's not an answer, exactly, but it's also not a rejection of whatever insane plan Gwen is working with. Black Widow approached girl and creature alike to scrutinize them, prodding at the webbing that bound it with a lack of hesitation that was either reckless or a terrifying testament to what she could do. ]

lmao that was supposed to say "these guys" thanks phone

[construing]

[ this is new. either the girl is reckless or crazy, and neither is good with t h e s e guys on the loose. hero first, gwen passes her arm over her head, putting the line away from the kid. ]

Nope. Sorry, kid, but this isn't a toy and that's definitely not a teddy bear on the end of the line. Hands in the ride at all times, thanks.

I WAS WONDERING ...

[expatriates]

[ Sixteen years old and already a trained assassin, it has been a long time since anyone looked at Black Widow and called her a kid. The comment visibly rebuffs her, and alarm and scrutiny characterize the tilt of her head, which briefly challenges Gwen's ability to enforce the request she makes. Natasha decides it's not worth the fight. ]

You didn't answer my question.

[construing]

Making sure you don't lose a body part takes precedence. Besides, I asked you first.

[ gwen stacy: superhero, college student, badass drummer, smartass. ]

[expatriates]

You're very particular.

[ She makes the observation sound patronizing rather than scathing, but she glances behind her down the hall, then back at Gwen and relents. If Gwen wants to feel like she's in control of the situation, there's no reason not to allow her that. ]

It's locked in the kitchen. Now it's your turn.

[construing]

[ and you're the weirdest teenager she's met yet. which is saying something considering gwen spent a good portion of her teenage years crawling up walls and webbing up bad guys…and still is. ]

I'm trying to get rid of this infestation. My hope is for bug-free tomorrows. [ a distant dream, it's true. but dreaming is free, hope is the last to die, etc. ]

And unless you're hiding superpowers, you can help by not going near them. Ugly as they look, they've got an even uglier bite.

[ don't be one of the stupid kids, is all she's asking. please. she doesn't want to web people to the ceiling, but she's about to start. ]

[expatriates]

So you do?

[ Have superpowers, that is. Natasha raises her eyebrows; at least it explains the peculiar costume, somewhat. She figured it would explain itself in time, and oh look, it's time. ]

Did you make this? [ She goes to the web again, this time looking without touching. She turns to look at Gwen, her eyes piercing as she realizes that she should reassure the other girl and say, ] Don't worry. I'll be fine.