EVENT ★ LABYRINTH

[futurologists]

ASTERION PRISON Following Anakin's successful breakout, there are no new inmates added to the cells in Asterion Prison. There are no stops and, though speed is difficult to track in space, it seems as though the ship is now moving more purposely toward its final destination: the trial, the correctional officers say, is coming soon. THE ESCAPE The morning of Audentes’s last day on the prison barge began like any other day aboard so far. Throughout the day there were restless murmurs, though; plans were tentatively talked over and laid out in quiet, conspirator groups. A few more eyes than usual watched the progress of the correctional officers through the hallways. As evening drew in and prisoners prepared to return to their cells to sleep, things quietly began to set in motion. Ninurrta, Urahara, and Lance compiled what they’d learned today and on days previous of correctional officer schedules, and Nami and Fugo were pulled aside and told where and when to be ready. Seasoned thieves that they are, it was almost no trouble to make the keycards of a few officers disappear. The officers would have much larger problems to deal with before they ever noticed the absence. And those problems started right about… now. It’s hard to say exactly who started it, but the safe bet is on a staged performance by Asher and Stiles. As prisoners were shuffling into their cells, tempers suddenly flared, voices suddenly raised, and fists began to fly. It was contagious, especially with Undyne and Giorno’s well-timed encouragements and a few hard shoves at the right inmate’s backs. To the officers’ great exasperation and irritation, the third riot since this rowdy new batch of prisoners was added flared to life. This one didn’t stop at the prisoners, though. Twisted Fate gifted the recreation room with an especially smokey explosion and the fire safety sprinklers reacted instantly, showering down to soak Audentes, fellow prisoners, and correctional officers alike. The officers quickly found it was a little more water than usual -- far too much water than it should be, actually. That was Sai’s subtle assistance, adding transformed water to that already raining down. Those officers not involved in trying to break up the growing confusion pushed into the recreation area to go and put out that new more-than-metaphorical fire, and that was Daenerys and Fiona’s cue to start giving orders. Any Audentes members in the area were rounded up, told to leave now, and no sooner than the last of them was out than Mettaton took center stage. Specifically, the center stage was taken with a searing blast of electricity. It wasn’t quite enough to kill prisoners, but the robotic guards never really stood a chance. They, and all the rest of the robotic crew on their shared circuit, were shorted out and down for the count. The keycards, not forgotten, were passed on to those subtle enough to make use of them. Noctis, Loki, and Widowmaker in particular were entrusted with opening the cells of what inmates had been locked away, and then unlocking the cellblock doors. Audentes would not be turning in for the night as scheduled, and any other prisoners were welcome to come along for their ride. That, however, was when things went a little off the rails. Separated and cornered, Emma flared up and managed what even Mettaton’s electricity hadn’t: an enormous power outage. Ship-wide, in fact. Darkness fell. Keycards were rendered instantly useless in the face of stony, inert doors, and artificial gravity went out with it all. But Audentes is nothing if not up to a little challenge. The doors could still open, it was quickly discovered, with a little brute force. Koltira, Ramir, and Hayame kept up the speed of the now-floating (and no less lively for it) riot, prying open any doors encountered, freeing still-trapped prisoners as they were found. And what was planned as just one team suddenly became two: working on Sieglinde’s careful navigational direction, Peridot, Peter, and Damian were sent toward the locked-down main power grid for a hard reboot of the system, while Prompto, Keith, and Odinson headed toward the navigation room. The timing was perfect. Gravity slammed back on as light flooded the prison once more, just as the second group reached the navigation room. Odinson stood guard as Prompto broke them into the room, and Keith slid into the pilot’s chair to take control of the entire ship… ...which is when things really got started.

THE LABYRINTH Audentes gains control over the prison ship quickly and perilously, freeing fellow inmates to help them keep the correctional officers busy. The intent is to pilot the ship and land it somewhere -- but even that vague plan never really comes to fruition. Something goes wrong, and the ship plummets out of the sky, burning through the atmosphere. Alarms blare and the ship shakes and red warning lights blink in every corner. All you can really do is hold on. The ship crashes into a planet. It's completely trashed; no longer capable of flight. Pieces have torn off in the descent and even more pieces have melted together in the still-burning fires as the wreckage lies between impossibly tall walls. The holes in the hull reveals where personal items -- including weapons -- were being held, so it's probably a good idea to reclaim what's yours before someone else does. There are injuries and casualties all around, including correctional officers and inmates; luckily, no fatalities have struck Audentes, and George is still alive as well, though he's broken an arm in the crash. After scavenging the wreckage for supplies and survivors, the next step is figuring out where the hell this is. A surviving correctional officer has the answer: this is the Asterion Labyrinth, the place where all prisoners must undergo their trial. It seems it's more of a trial by ordeal than anything else, as further exploration makes it clear that all survivors of the crash -- criminals, ALASTAIR, and correctional officers -- are now prisoners inside a maze. OOC NOTES Welcome to Asterion Labyrinth! There is a plotting write-up here, which includes search requests for the first ring of the maze. If you have any questions about the prison that aren't answered here, please direct them to the Leramzen dossier. Questions about the game in general should be directed to the FAQ and you may submit mission ideas or player plots at any time.

Comments

[tolight]

[ The condition's met with a small smile, and a nod. She's not nearly competitive enough to try and actually win — this is nothing more than an attempt to get to know the people around her, all the while channeling her energy into something productive. The best of both worlds, for someone who would rather do anything but rest.

She takes a few steps to the side, further away from her weapon, before her entire stance lowers; knees bent, one foot behind the other, hands raised to her shoulders. Far from what her instincts would tell her in a fight, but still familiar enough to fall back on in desperate times.

Once the lines in her body tense, and with a short exhale— ] I'm ready when you are.

[controlling]

[

meanwhile, bruce…bends his knees a little. ]

Uh, I guess I am. How does this go?

[ he's not throwing a first punch. he's a 36-year-old man against a skinny 20-year-old girl. he's not throwing anything. ]

[tolight]

[ Bruce please this is probably insulting??? At least, if he wasn't Batman this would be insulting. ]

... Once of us would have to make the first move. [ But Bruce has made it clear that he's newer to this than she is, and it's probably a terrible idea to throw the first punch against someone who clearly has no idea what he's doing.

( Maybe she shouldn't have suggested this in the first place — but it's too late to back out now, isn't it? )

A second, then two, later, and Lucina caves; it's not like anything would get done with the two of them standing around like this. Makes her actions as obvious as possible, approaching Bruce in a straight line, fist aimed directly for the middle of his chest. ]

[controlling]

[ even if he could remember being batman, decking a kid in the face is nagl. that's just how it is.

lucina comes toward him. his palm comes up to knock her punch harmlessly to the side. another strike has the same result. his weight shifts as smoothly as a dancer — one moment, allowing him to slip quickly out of the way of another blow; the next, when he catches her fist, become as immovable as stone.

three things become quickly obvious as they continue: for such a big man bruce is surprisingly light on his feet; he reacts almost to the thought of what she will do rather than when she executes the action; and he refuses to hit her back. even when given a window, he neglects to go on the offensive.

nor does he waste movement. he steps where he must. moves his hands where he must. uses only enough force to stop a strike from landing or deflect another. it translates into a lack of visible signs of fatigue — or perhaps that's his own endurance evident in how long he worked the weights aboard the ship.

tl;dr he's a massive pain in the ass even in a friendly sparring match. ]

[tolight]

[ Age is just a number, she's had worse than being punched in the face, etc.

But what begins as an easy, straight-forward session quickly ramps up to something different. As if to accommodate for how easily Bruce deflects, Lucina stops "going easy" on him — hooks, feints, speed making up in the ways that power cannot, all in an attempt to land a single hit ( it doesn't work ). But it doesn't matter; it doesn't take a genius to know that the tables have turned — she's the one learning from him, his skills already leagues above her own.

So why did he pretend otherwise?

Once she realizes how futile these efforts are, she stops for now. Steps away, breathing coming in light pants; but her eyes remain on Bruce's form. ] You have done this before. [ Fighting, sparring. Her tone isn't accusatory, but it is curious. ] Why didn't you tell me?

[controlling]

Because I haven't. I have no memory of it.

[ intoned sharply, though the flare of temper is neither caused by or directed at lucina. everything is turned inward. to the extreme deficiency in his memory of which he is all too aware. to the differences separating him from the person he had been until he could not recognize the one as himself. before bruce was a man eaten alive by paranoia, kept awake by trauma. his life was a pretty shell, lovely to look upon and utterly hollow.

memory is the divider. that which he remembers he lays claim to. that which he cannot he dismisses out of hand. the company. the manor. the formal suits and the cold portraits. traded in for a youth center and his fiancée's small apartment, for jeans and a child's crayon scribbles on the walls. for noise and chaos and early mornings and late evenings. a life, for once, full of life.

it was perfect. in gotham, his life was perfect.

then to fall here.

( what pisses him off is how strangely natural this all feels. like this, surrounded by stressors, gambling with risk, is the environment he should be in.

what scares him is how his happy, perfect life, even in gotham, often did not feel like enough. ) ]

[tolight]

No memory? [ She can apologize for overstepping boundaries in a moment. Specific words catch her attention, and her eyebrows immediately furrow. The body remembers what the mind cannot — she had heard of this once upon a time, with a tactician that had been sleeping in the middle of the fields. Her father's closest friend, adviser, and the individual who could see the flow of battle despite not understanding why.

( Briefly, Lucina can't help but wonder just who this man, Damian's father, had been when he did have all his memories. )

The silence continues as she digests the information. Watches him with steady, careful eyes, replays the sudden sharpness in tone again. Eventually, quieter than before— ] I apologize — that was rude of me. [ But she's not about to pity the man for losing his memories. ] However, your skills are ... remarkable. [ For the lack of a better term. ] In fact, it would have been more accurate to say that you were teaching me.

[controlling]

[ difficult to teach something he doesn't know. bruce clamps his teeth around the bitterness. to snap at her is only to displace his anger. it takes a lot more to make him forget himself to such a degree.

there is no reason to give further clarification, however. it has been a strange blessing to not come upon person after person who will recognize him. to not contend with sympathies and questions: how did we know each other? what was our relationship? did you know me or did you only know of me? moreover, bruce does not want to give it further importance. ]

Forget it. Tougher though that may be for you. [ self-deprecation delivered utterly straight. comedy is only tragedy plus time and he has had plenty of time.

it doesn't mean he will make the presence of a joke any easier to discern.

bruce holds up his hands and takes a step backward. ]

Let's call this a draw. I think I've had enough sparring for the next year.

[tolight]

[ Something is wrong.

It starts as a gut feeling, when expectations of how a conversation should go doesn't go that way, when earnestness seems to hit a chord with him that shouldn't have. And then, more prominently when he drops the conversation ( and the sparring ) entirely. Her eyebrows knit together, and despite trying to work past the associations, she can't help but think back to what she'd known of Robin.

Strong, despite being unable to recall, looking forwards instead of backwards. ] Wait. [ — And maybe that's where she went wrong. Bringing up points of a time that one cannot remember, pushing the point even after apology. Whether or not she realizes the extent of it is another matter entirely, but...

She's her father's daughter, but that isn't to say that she has the eloquence that he does ( the joke is that the eloquence is lost on him, too. He's just genuine enough that no one can really hate him ). There's a lot more she wants to say, maybe about the tactician from her army, or maybe admittance that she made a mistake, or— ]

I realize I have overstepped, but... thank you, for taking the time nonetheless. [ A halfway between a ( second, implied ) apology and gratitude. Maybe the best is to just let go of this for the time being. ] I appreciate it.

[controlling]

[ bruce pulls the shreds of patience left to him close in preparation. she, however, avoids the subject, and he can barely avoid the sigh of relief. he listens to her apology without a change in expression, nodding once when she has finished. ]

Don't mention it.

[ polite; an end.

he leaves without another word. ]