epidemiology | [EVENT POST] I FEEL STUPID, AND CONTAGIOUS.

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[EVENT POST] I FEEL STUPID, AND CONTAGIOUS.

CHARACTERS: Open to all!
DATE: 3/11-3/12, ICly
WARNINGS: Zombie attacks? Violence? Shopping???
SUMMARY: Lockdown at the mall! Grab your CDs and your soft pretzel, it's about to get bad.

LET'S GO TO THE MALL

LOCKDOWN

Business has been rough for Woodhurst Shopping Center ever since riots and unrest about the Bristol Virus have shunned most to their homes. Perhaps ill-advisedly, in attempts to draw a few more customers back into the polished halls of the grandest shopping experience Woodhurst has to offer, a weekend of big sales, great bargains, and fun family activities was widely advertised in the Woodhurst Watch. There was even a scheduled public concert, performed by the University Choir.

The turnout was smaller than hoped, yet the air was quite optimistic. Shoppers enjoyed the day of activities and fun, and the sense of security was bolstered by the increased security detail. There was even some members of the press on hand to document this return to normality in a troubled time. Everything was going well, until a scene broke out in the food court.

Security tried to quietly remove members of the choir that suddenly seemed to snap, plowing into one of the food stands and starting to feed on raw meat. However, a good handful of them escaped instant confinement, and while many of the visitors fled the mall as soon as they could, soon Police Detail arrived and put the entire building on lockdown. Nobody in and nobody out until the situation was resolved.

18:00 TO 23:00 HOURS

Anyone unlucky enough to be trapped in the mall is left to their own devices, with very little knowledge to go on. This includes many civilians, as well as a small number of Audentes agents. This also includes a small number of infected, more than just the university choir. There's a voice over the loudspeaker imploring people to hide in stores, barricade doors, and stay put until help arrives.

The majority of the infected seem to linger in the Food Court especially. Bad news for anyone trapped and starting to get hungry as the hours pass by, without any obvious assistance from the outside. The members of ALASTAIR have a choice, help protect or just do their best to avoid the infected themselves. Characters can get into the Security Office for a camera feed on what is happening in the mall, and potentially use it as a base of operations to work from.

00:00 TO 02:00 HOURS

It becomes apparent that the number of infected in the mall are somehow increasing, despite the lockdown. It means that those that have squirreled away into stores and outlets are growing less and less safe as infected numbers multiply and they begin attacking barricades. To make matters worse, anyone that hasn't found cover will find the infected extremely reactive, and willing to give chase around the mall.

The security feed indicates the infected seem to be coming in from the Parking Garage. Investigation will reveal a sewer outlet on the bottom floor. Characters will have to decide whether they should utilize the tunnel as a means of escape, or if sealing it off would ultimately leave the remaining hours of lockdown a little less violent.

04:00 TO 09:00 HOURS

It's been an agonizing 12 hours, and with surprisingly little aide from the outside. With time to make preparations and put plans in place, now it's time to end this lockdown once and for all. Audentes is tasked with neutralizing the remaining infected as well as escorting any remaining civilians to safety, by any means they decide on.

It is up to Audentes to decide how the end of this event plays out, be it removing or otherwise drawing away the lingering infected, or putting them down once and for all. There are plenty of civilians that have been bitten and attacked, leaving the question in the air as to whether they are infected as well. What should be done with those that could be bringing the virus back to their families? The team is going to have to decide on the answer to that.

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With a clear conscience. [Oh no, they have little stamps with music notes on them!! And stars!! Those get nabbed too.

Mettaton's fiddling with his star stamp as he finally takes a closer look at his compatriot. A civilian wouldn't be this blase, so the only option is Audentes.

He gives them a smile.]

And I'm assume it's the same for you.

[Fugo doesn't laugh. But his sharp exhale is very close to something resembling a chuckle.]

Best way to do it. [Why... feel bad about stealing. Ever? Especially in a crisis situation, but mostly on a day-to-day basis. Fugo continues to watch Mettaton's antics. Oh, he found the stamps.] The ink pads are behind you.

[He gestures with his stack of cash. The ink is, in true '90s form, obnoxiously bright and somewhat glittery.]

[Gaaaaaasp!! Oh no, they ARE!! Oh, they're so pink!! They're...

His hand stops short of reaching for them, distracted by what's directly to their right.

Vials of glitter.

The quiet laugh Mettaton makes should be more at home coming from a super villain than on a man pocketing glitter, but here we are.]

It's not as if it's stealing, [he assures his new friend (and himself). Ohoho, this stuff will stick on everything, for sure.] We were told our bills were mostly footed, but that's not the same as being paid. This is, [he shakes another jar of glitter. It's purple.] balancing the scales.

[With his cash-bundling finished, Fugo leans onto the counter and watches this whole... thing with his chin in his hand. Wow. He's kind of impressed by that laugh (did this guy practice it?) and also by the train of logic that boils down to cool motive, still theft.]

Whatever it is, I doubt anyone is going to stop you. And if you've got the ability to easily haul it around... [Fugo shrugs.] Why not?

And you're right about not really being paid. That bites. [This whole getting roped into saving the multiverse thing........... really sucks. Come on, tears in reality, he's got things to do.]

It's horrendous! Do you understand how many lives I've saved just TODAY?? I should be laying in a bed of money and awards!! [He unscrews the lid to his glitter before tossing a handful in the air above him. HUFF. This is complete nonsense! He's so tired of this thankless job already.

...sigh.

Whatever. Having properly vented, Mettaton holds a hand to his teammate, palm down, expecting a kiss.]

It's Mettaton, by the way. And you are, darling?

Edited 2017-03-20 19:05 (UTC)

[Fugo makes a mental note not to mention the glitter thing to Giorno, who would absolutely pick up this bad habit and Fugo knows that with that much glitter being flung around there'd be no cleaning it up.]

No wonder Giogio likes you. [Fugo has heard, at length, Giorno gush praises about Mettaton. His taste in music, his dedication to glam, his good taste in dresses... yeah, that's all Giorno. He glances down at the offered hand, skeptical but honestly not all that surprised.] Nice try, but no. You get points for form and dramatics, but your timing's off.

I'm Fugo.

Ha! Fugo. Sweetheart. [Mettaton retracts his hand, but not before shaking some of the excess glitter off into Fugo's direction.] My timing is never off. That's just the anticipation that's killing you.

[Wait, rewind.

Gasp! He's hoping onto the counter his new friend is standing at, kicking his legs to and fro.]

You know Gio-darling? WELL, any friend of his is a friend of mine! And any friend of MINE tells me what my other friends are saying about me. At length.

[Fugo's in the midst of patiently brushing glitter off the front of his hoodie (he is only marginally successful: while he gets most of it off, there's now a distinctly sparkly patch on his left) when Mettaton perches nearby.]

There's really not much to say. He likes your taste in music and clothes. He thinks you're fun. [Briefly, the stern set of of his features slides towards wistfulness; Giorno could use more fun in his life. Letting Giorno have some fun is what brought Fugo here today. And he doesn't regret coming, even though shopping has never been something he enjoys and things have gone entirely to hell. He just wishes the day could have stayed that way. He stubbornly sets his jaw and, rather than letting himself get stuck in the feeling, translates it into bending down to stash his stolen cash into a bag.] He didn't say anything bad.

Of course he didn't. I'm fabulous.

[End of sentence, end of thought.

Mettaton catches the expression briefly clouding Fugo's face, but only smiles. Looks like someone has a high opinion of someone else.

Maybe even a crush? How adorable.]

How do you two know each other? If you aren't minding a little mid-crisis interview, that is.

[And he's nosy. Yeah, there's no way these two wouldn't hit it off like a house on fire.]

I reserve the right to make no comment. [Thankfully, he and Giorno have already settled on their story.] But we're friends from back home. I'm his accountant.

[He says this statement, which is absurd given their ages and how they should both be in high school, with a completely straight face and without batting an eyelash. It is either the truth or a very well-practiced lie.]

[That "lack of comment" speaks far louder than any denial. Mettaton's hands find either side of his face as he continues to swing his legs.

Giorno has a boyfriend. The fact that this didn't come out immediately is a violation of

Something.

Mettaton will figure out a way to prod him about it later.

Even funnier:] Oh my!! What you accounting for? His allowance? [It sounds like those human movies where the high school students, for some reason, have an entirely working underground economy revolving around lockers and who gets to go through the lunch-line first. It's ridiculous.

...he lets out a quiet gasp despite himself. Was that not hyperbole?

Mettaton's stare has gone from curious to intent.] Is he the popular kid you've found yourself indebted to after he stuck up for you against some wayward bullies? I need to know immediately.

No, his finances. He recently [forcibly.] inherited some businesses and I'm helping him wrangle their finances. The previous owner's bookkeeping was abysmal and is nigh-on incomprehensible. I'm helping him straighten them out.

[There's a note of genuine irritation there, because it's... true. God, Diavolo, how did you manage to keep Passione running and keep track of where your capital was when your records were all so awful?]

And no. I was put on a fast-track education when I was younger and graduated high school three years ago. We were introduced by a mutual friend. You watch too many movies.

[Please, that's nowhere near as interesting. It makes it less of a fun, high-school romp and more of a...

Gasp.]

Did he inherit a record label?

[That's a television show, not a movie. It doesn't count.]

No. [LONG.............. LONG PAUSE. And then, with the most put-upon expression he can manage:] But he did recently buy the majority shares in a Sicilian radio station.

[He can't believe it. But he also can? But he's also mortified. Why is Giorno Giovanna the way he is.]

[...oh, Gio.

Mettaton's hands clasp against his chest and his eyes turn to the void of the sky. Normally the look of pride now showing on his face is reserved for himself, but...]

I always knew I could count on that boy.

[He's so proud of him right now.

Mettaton flicks away a tear that isn't there and moves to pat Fugo on the shoulder.]

You're very lucky to have him.

[Fugo's shoulder is tight and tense under Mettaton's hand, much like the way he's frowning right now. Mettaton's more right than he knows: he's very lucky to have Giorno in his life, but Fugo has the sinking suspicion that he may have accidentally given Mettaton the wrong false impression.]

I suppose so. Yes. [How... much... is he going to regret this...] I'm grateful to not be stuck doing this alone, at least.

[This being the whole... ALASTAIR and Audentes thing. He's not having a very good time.]

[Aaaaaaaaaaw... The hand that isn't on Fugo has already found Mettaton's face. He's cupping his cheek, smiling to himself. Cute. How utterly adorable.

Fugo gets one more pat before Mettaton finally pulls himself away to enjoy his perch.]

I wouldn't say you were ALONE, but it's nice, isn't it? Having a familiar face around. Especially one so lively and glamorous.

[Hee.]

I'll be sure to tell him you said that.

[Oh, right. Here it is. His least favorite part of reporting: where people say things, ask him if he agrees, and then all of a sudden the words somehow came out of his mouth. Fugo makes a sour expression.]

You're the one who said those things, not me. But whatever.

Tomato, tomahto. If the feelings were there, you may as well have said them.

[Logic.]

Why? Is there something wrong with expressing your appreciation every once in a while?

You're assuming a lot about the feelings of someone you've just met.

[HARSH...]

No, there isn't. But that isn't what this is. You want to pass along a message in your words with my name attached. If I'm going to bother with something like that, I'd rather do it in person and pick what I'd like to say myself.

Oh? Alright, then.

[He swoops his arm, as if sweet, perfect Giorno is standing at his side, and smiles patiently.]

The floor's yours, darling.

[The very tips of his ears go red, in a very damning sort of way because it sure implies that whatever Fugo would want to say is very personal.]

Do you look like Giorno Giovanna? No.

Mmm, you got me there. I don't think my hair's long enough to pull off those curls. [Could you IMAGINE him with long hair, though? He'd be to DIE for.

Ha.

He's gone back to swinging his legs back and forth, lacing his fingers together on his lap.]

Here's a little advice, beautiful, from me to you: you humans die so quickly. Life is short and you're so young! Express yourself! We're in the middle of a zombie apocalypse; the scene isn't about to get any more dramatic than this.

Edited 2017-03-30 01:54 (UTC)

[Very quickly, Fugo's expression shifts from annoyed and distantly embarrassed to ... not much all, really. The frustrated wrinkle between his eyebrows and irritated set of his mouth smooth out, leaving behind a flat expression that's difficult to read.

Express yourself. That, more than anything else, is what reminds Fugo that Mettaton honestly has no idea what he's talking about. So what's the point of getting angry about it? He doesn't have the energy to. Even if he did, it's never been safe to let himself indulge in that feeling.]

Sure. Whatever. [He shoulders his bag, preparing to leave.] You're sticking around to maintain this area, right? If you are, I'll direct anyone who needs to rest to this storefront.

[Oh... That didn't land at all, did it? Or it landed too well and struck a very bad chord. Mettaton tilts his head, watching the change of expression with interest. Which one was it...?

Whichever one it was, Fugo's leaving. Sad. He was having so much fun getting to know him. Ah well. Mettaton offers him a patient smile, pressing a hand to his own mouth before blowing a kiss.]

I am. Don't worry about this little corner of heaven, sweetheart; I've got it handled.

You take care of yourself, now.

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unholey - 2017-04-04 16:08 (UTC) - Expand

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