EVENT ★ MOTHERSHIP II

[futurologists]

TIME TO MOVE The alarms throughout the Mothership continue to blare, the warning about intruders repeating every thirty seconds: you've been found out. It's only a matter of time before Zymandis locates the intruders among them (that's you!), so it's crunch time to finish the mission objectives before everything goes straight to hell. It won't be easy -- Zymandis guards (robotic and humanoid alike) patrol the ship now, asking to see everyone's identification. They can be avoided if you're lucky enough to time a distraction, but otherwise you'll have to talk -- or fight -- your way out of it. Of course, the more violence that happens, the more Zymandis will be alerted of Audentes's location . . . which comes along with its own problem. Once the tension reaches a fever pitch and chaos descends upon the Mothership, Zymandis will begin to take drastic measures. In order to cover their escape to panic rooms and escape pods, they release the vicious, alien monsters used for pit fighting; these creatures are dangerous and enraged to the point where they will slaughter indiscriminately -- even Zymandis agents. Beyond escaping and fighting the monsters, there is the possibility that they'll react positively to kindness, never having experienced it from their Zymandis captors. In addition to setting the creatures loose, Zymandis scientists have also released chemicals into the ventilation system in attempts to control Audentes's movements. The chemicals release vapors into the air that can cause uncontrollable emotional responses such as rage, terror, confusion, or sorrow. Unfortunately for them, they neglected to account for the chemicals' effects on Zymandis agents as well, so be cautious as you move through the corridors. THE OBJECTIVES In order to complete the mission, Audentes will need to complete the following: COMMANDEER THE MOTHERSHIP. The area outside the bridge is heavily guarded and the only entrances to it are hermetically sealed; the locks will need to be electronically overridden or the doors broken down. Or if you’re feeling really crafty, you can try to talk your way in there -- there is an intercom, after all. Either way, once ALASTAIR breaches the bridge, the captain will be nowhere to be found. It appears they’ve taken one of the only functional escape pods. Those left in the bridge aren’t skilled fighters, but that won’t necessarily stop them from trying. About 3/4ths will surrender, but a small amount will put up a fight; luckily, they can be put down non-lethally with relative ease, if that’s your aim. Once everyone within the bridge is taken care of, it’s time to look at the controls. There are a lot of them, none of them similar to any other ship’s. Essentially, the team is going in blind. Unfortunately, this will be trial and error. Some of the possible button combinations could: DECREASE OXYGEN: The settings for oxygen output will be greatly lowered, causing a deficit in oxygen. Although it will not be noticeable at first, there will soon begin to be symptoms of hypoxia throughout the ship. Symptoms include discoordination, fatigue, nausea, disorientation, hallucinations, and breathlessness. Once you realize something’s wrong, well, you’d better go fix it, quick. ENGAGE HYPERSPEED: The ship will suddenly start barrelling towards whatever’s in its way at incredible speeds, so fast that people who don’t brace themselves will find themselves knocked back by the sheer force. Yeah, you’re gonna want to turn that off. TURN ON SPRINKLERS: Yep, that’s right. Even space stations need sprinklers sometimes! They are -- unfortunately -- everywhere, and will get just about anyone soaking wet if they aren’t careful to avoid them. However, there is one upside: turning on these sprinklers will neutralize any chemical vapors released by the Zymandis scientists. UNLOCK PRISON DOORS: Zymandis has holding cells downstairs filled with hundreds of angry inmates, and one wrong press of a button will let them all out. They won’t waste a moment, immediately running upstairs, causing havoc and attempting to commandeer the ship for themselves. Luckily for Audentes, they’re not big fans of Zymandis. Unluckily for Audentes, they’re dressed exactly like Zymandis agents and happen to be controlling a Zymandis ship. So . . . good luck. TURN OFF SHIELDS: The ship is equipped with the most advanced shields available, and for good reason. It turns out that space is full of danger! Immediately after the shields are turned off, the ship will be hit by an asteroid and go tumbling, sending everyone in it flying. Oops. Here comes another one! DECREASE/INCREASE GRAVITY: The artificial gravity on the Mothership is very finicky. One wrong button and everyone will float -- or maybe fall to the ground, suddenly incapable of supporting their own weight. OTHER: Turn on the radio and blast some mariachi music, send the ship hurtling towards the nearest planet, make those incessant seatbelt lights blink. The sky’s the limit. DETAIN ZYMANDIS AGENTS. There are a lot of them -- nearly a thousand -- and not many of you. You'll have to work fast, hard, and together in order to get out of this safely and with as few casualties as possible. Remember the nonlethal security measures your false Zymandis uniforms have been outfitted with (three electromagnetic pulse grenades, a tazing device, and an auditory stun), but if you're cornered, no one will blame you for taking a life. Probably. While many of the Zymandis agents on board are field agents, equipped with weapons and battle abilities, the majority are noncombatants: personnel staff, scientists, doctors, engineers, etc. They'll put up a fight as well as they can, but will chiefly be relying on guards (robotic and organic) to protect them. Take out the guards and combatants first, and the rest should be easy enough to round up. Now that the creature fighting pit has been cleared, it might serve as a fine enough place to hold your new captives . . . if only it weren't so small. You can likely jam a few hundred in there, but that leaves the rest with nowhere to stay, and unless you want to put the Zymandis agents in with their own prisoners, you'd better come up with a solution. CAPTURE AND DETAIN TARAXA HOSTS. The Taraxa agents can be found in any manner of host, from human to monstrous. The only way to identify them is by viewing the inside of their heads -- through X-ray or some other means. This of course makes things a little complicated, but luckily (or not so luckily), the Mother has been located, which should make it a little easier. [ The Mother's ultimate fate will be decided by the winner of the plot slot roll on 5 October, but she will be cut off from her hive in some way. ] Cut off from the psychic "eyes" of their Mother, the Taraxa fall into unpredictability. Some of them are confused and malleable, easily guided into custody. Others are violently frenzied and will not stop fighting until they are somehow rendered immobile. Still others will be actively reckless, as if they no longer value their lives. Ideally, the Taraxa will all be subdued so they can be safely brought to Oska and extracted from their hosts. Sometimes there is no choice in the matter, but still -- try to stay your hand. THE AFTERMATH After the ship is captured, it's time to explore the spoils of battle and make sure there are no hidden Zymandis agents squirreled away in corners and panic rooms. It will take a few weeks before the ship reaches Oska, so spend the time however you like -- raiding the shops, playing in the unguarded armory, using the advanced laboratories, etc. The Mothership belongs to ALASTAIR now, so its facilities all belong to you. Interestingly enough, though, there is no sign of the TIMELINE.exe onboard. The Leader, too, appears to have never been on the Mothership. Although Zymandis's home base has been captured, the head of the snake still needs to be found. OOC NOTES The action portion of this log will take place over two IC hours. It will then take the Mothership two weeks IC to arrive at Oska. 1 October marks Futurology's second anniversary! Upon their return to Oska on 15 October, all current characters will receive a surprise to celebrate. If you have questions about this log, please go to the 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

FOR THE DOCTOR.

[futurologists]

[ Alarms are blaring throughout the Mothership as Zymandis agents run to and for in confusion, trying to escape to safety while the guards take care of the ALASTAIR spies. It's clear they are woefully unprepared for the possibility of infiltration, and there is little in the way of organization as the Zymandis agents scramble for cover; some help one another, but for the most part, it's every man (or alien) for himself.

A marked exception to this selfishness is a pair of humanoids who seem to be guarding a woman, glancing about warily as they lead her around a corner. The woman is largely human in appearance, though her skin is a washed-out sepia tone, and her eyes are a brightly glowing violet -- she's a Qorral, which more veteran Audentes recruits have identified as the last known host of the Taraxa hive's Mother.

Right as the trio moves around the corner, one of the bodyguards meets the Doctor's eyes. It's not a friendly look, but it might be worth investigating the Qorral woman. ]

[spacerhyme]

[ the doctor stops dead in his tracks, and takes half a second to process the situation as it rounds the corner on him:

three humanoids, one with a particular skin tone and rather striking eyes. he'd read about this species, a month or so ago. quarrel, was it? karl? no, qorral. and this may be the first time he's seen anyone with any sort of escort in the chaos—

he thinks he has an inkling who this woman could be.

so he acts fast. the half-second passes, and he throws his hands out to block their path, zymandis-style lab coat flapping in a sufficiently dramatic manner. he channels his initial wide-eyed surprise into a (hopefully) convincing show of urgency, ]

Not this way, Ma'am! The spies have released a beast and it's running amok, you've got to turn back!

sans | battle | OTA

[skelepun]

5 minutes in;

[The blare of the broadcast warnings were enough to rattle a guy's skull, and Sans is alone when he takes a turn down a maintenance corridor at the aft of the ship. The control hub -- the place they all needed to ostensibly be -- was an entire mothership away at the fore. How long did the briefing say this thing was? Did they give measurements in football fields? European or US? He'd need to remember if he was going to get there. Even if walking was something he enjoyed, it wouldn't be possible to cover the ground he needed without getting picked off on the way. Luckily, he knows a shortcut.

... Knew a shortcut.

Teleportation requires calculations. Magic, too, but the math was all that stood between him and the great vacuum of space. Calculations required figures, and for whatever reason the figures he took care to memorize before even arriving were... not gone, but floating just out of reach. The hiss of air vents overhead underscored his frustration, translating what what would have been nonissue any other day into mounting annoyance.

It wasn't the mission he was worried about. That would resolve itself. There were plenty of gung ho ALASTAIR cadets eager for bragging rights (and maybe a few more who just believed in what they were doing here). It was the suddenly restricted mobility that stiffened his bones and rattled his ribs. Coming to the end of the hall, Sans comes up against a split.

You'd be amazed how little you bothered with directions when you didn't have to. He knew that the fore of the ship was left, so ... Actually, which way was right and left? This was worse than forgetting a figure. Sans shuffled his hands from his labcoat pockets, staring at them in vain as he tried to remember what he'd learned as a kid. Left hand looks like what... linguine?

Anyone coming across him will find a skeleton very much out of sorts, staring at his hands, with mounting anger radiating off his posture. If you're looking for a knock knock joke, you may be disappointed.]

60 minutes in;

[He could hear it. Papyrus's voice. It was younger -- too young to actually be real -- but time was as confused as the rest of him, now. Every step felt as if he were crunching through snow. Every sound, like a crack of dry branches. And through it all, Papyrus's voice, shouting for something that Sans couldn't quite understand.

It's a Zymandis agent he comes across first, scared and surrendering. To Sans, their cries belong to his brother, and their form to something else entirely. A threat. Dust, clinging stubbornly to their hands and clothes. He doesn't understand why, after a blast from three twisted skulls, the threat has suddenly disappeared and Papyrus's cries are now echoing from down the hall.

Following them, Sans squints into a wide snowy clearing -- the Mothership atrium, if he weren't so lost in confusion and anger -- and sees the threat isn't gone, it's only moved. Skulls appearing once more, Sans doesn't hesitate. Their wide, toothy mouths yawn open, magic gathering at the back of their throats.]

What'd you do? [Sans' voice sounds distracted and strange. His eyelights are snuffed out, leaving only empty, expressionless sockets.] Where'd you...?

[It's not a message meant for you, or for anyone, but here we are.]

105 minutes in;

[It takes time, but the gas's hold on him doesn't last forever. Removal from the affected parts of the ship and the patience of good friends does the trick, leaving Sans exhausted but himself. There's the nag of anxiety -- over what he'd done, and what he can't remember doing -- but they're a dull thrum against the broader concerns of the ship. The commandeering process was nearly accomplished, Zymandis nearly defeated, and Sans aware of how little he needed to be there right now.

Being useful wasn't really his thing. Way too much effort.

It's another hallway that he turns down, much like the first. Only instead of gas, it's another of Zyamndis' defense measures he finds himself confronted with.

The giant beast thrashes the moment it catches sight of him, forcing more oozing blood from a deep cut at its side. Sans finds himself frozen, staring with wide sockets at the creature. Its appearance doesn't faze him. They were a monster, but so was Sans. Were the circumstances different, he could picture sharing a beer with them.

Sans took another step and they writhed again, pupils dilated with what could only be fear. Goddamnit.

He hated this mission.]

Hey, it's okay. [Sans offers, holding up both hands before it became obvious the gesture upset the monster more than it placated them.] Sorry, sorry. I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm gonna help out. You're my good deed of the year, hope you feel lucky.

[The monster lets out a loud snuffle, and Sans can't help chuckling.]

Okay, yeah, don't blame you. Look, I'd heal you myself, but I'm more useful with... y'know, papercuts and turned ankles. [He looks over his shoulder, back towards where most of the crew was gathered.] I'm gonna be right back, just hold tight.

[He disappears from the hallway. Back in the command bay, the crew is suddenly + 1 skeleton.]

Hey, hey! [Sans raises his voice above the din of activity. It's strange, to hear him talking above a mumble, but desperate times.] I need a healer, there's someone hurt!

105 minutes in

[fateality]

Well this has been a grand shitstorm.

[Twisted Fate mutters the words to himself as he walks, soaking wet from head to toe. Floating around his person is a set of cards, turning calmly as he keeps them persistently present in case he's ambushed.

It's been hell of a time, between the impending attacks and the chemicals. It was a mixed blessing, having been affected before their cover had been blown; it let him work through it probably better than most people around here until the effects wore off one way or another.

Then Sans just. Pops in, out of no where. It's not too unlike how Twisted Fate goes where he wants, but it's significantly harder to notice until Sans says something.

A healer. Great. As far as he knows, it's just himself and Papyrus. That doesn't leave a whole lot of options.

Fate sighs and rolls up his sleeves.]

All right, funnybone. Where we goin'?

5 minutes in

[predomination]

[As luck wouldn't have it, Urahara isn't in the lab when things go south, which is a damn shame, because he and Sieglinde have a date with Dr. Mills now that everything has kicked off. Luckily, he knows the way (unfortunately he can't flash step), but he's not expecting to find Sans here at a crossroads- or whatever the ship equivalent is.]

What's going on? [He says it very, very cautiously- he knows what some of those potent chemicals can do. He's watched it happen a few times. He wasn't really under the impression it could affect someone like Sans, but, well, he wouldn't have guessed the Bristol Virus could affect him, and here he is.]

60 minutes in; i'm ready 4 disaster

[hedonistic]

[...Out of the frying pan and into the fire, as it were.

Kagari's run into the atrium to escape from the horde of angry beasts that he happened to run into while turning an unfortunate corner, and it seems that just as he lost those...he's faced with some kind of giant skull cannon thing?

He freezes in place, putting his hands up. There's no guarantee he could get away fast enough without being hit by--whatever that is, and he's not sure Sans is entirely. Lucid. Right now.]

Whoa, hey. I don't even know what you're talking about.

koltira deathweaver | ota

[respired]

I. FIGHT BACK YOUR DEMONS;

[ Koltira's having a hard time. His headaches have bloomed into full-on wracking spasms, which means it's not long now. Not long before his reason slips away entirely, before his needs override his wants. But he's not quite there, not yet. He stalks the halls of the ship, jaw tight, eyes narrowed. Sirens blare around him, people of all kinds are running and shouting in the suddenly clogged hallways, there are frantic conversations and brief skirmishes erupting all around him.

Everything's gone to hell, it seems.

Good. It's exactly what he needs.

Someone tries to detain him--a slender alien with elongated limbs and a snakelike face. The alien demands ID, says he doesn't recognize Koltira's face. Koltira grabs the alien's thin wrist, squeezes it hard enough to crunch bone. He could pulverize this creature, he realizes, he could reduce them to dust.

He growls, his voice low and guttural, his eyes bright with cold-burning light. Ice forms on the alien's arm, and he starts to tremble from the intense cold, as though suddenly afflicted with terrible fever. ]

Ask me again.

II. DON'T LET THEM TAKE YOU DOWN;

[ Death knights are naturally inclined to negative emotions. Hatred, yes, and fury, too--but also pity, also remorse, also deep, deep sorrow. As a result, Koltira barely registers that it's the noxious perfume of the Zymandis chemicals suddenly affecting him. His movements, previously crisp with barely restrained agitation, slow to a miserable crawl. He threads through the chaos, plodding, dull-eyed. Ice trails behind him; he's drawing moisture from the air and from surrounding bodies without hardly thinking about it, as though his mind's suddenly become a draining void.

He turns down a corridor, comes face-to-face with one of Zymandis's newly released pit fighters. A chimera, he thinks mutely, with a black lion's face and a shiny, crimson scorpion's tail. The chimera's growling at a couple of cowering people, though Koltira can't tell who they are or what side they're on from this distance. He can see the scars on the chimera's body well enough, though. Its broken teeth; its limping paw. He wonders how much it's suffered, and for whose pleasure.

Koltira approaches, still radiating cold, his face long with sorrow. He reaches for the beast, his palm open. ]

You've suffered enough.

[ Is he going to pet it? Put it down? Hard to say, but he looks remarkably, unusually non-violent in this moment. Sadness and empathy are pretty close cousins. ]

III. SCREAM LIKE YOU MEAN IT;

[ Koltira doesn't know whether these two are Taraxan or not. Right now, in this moment, he doesn't even care. His veins are full of knives, his head's full of noise, and he can't remember the last time he was this angry. Why is he so angry? He can't put a source to it, not beyond the usual. He's too blind to understand that it's more of the vapors, seeping into his skin, not breathed in but absorbed.

He's got one--a man who looks mostly human, aside from his long tail and sharp teeth--by the throat. The other, a small woman who looks like she's part of the science division (eyeglasses, lab coat, presently broken clipboard), weeps on her knees, her face smeared with blood. On closer inspection, it's clearly her own blood: she's scratching her face, confused and frightened. The man thrashes in Koltira's grip, just as maddened as he is, howling something incomprehensible.

Koltira is clearly not equipped to deal with this situation.

'Kill us!' the man shrieks, his tail lashing. 'Kill us now!'

Koltira snarls, the pleas driving at something deeper inside him, at a much more dangerous desire. A need that's struggling to break the chains of his will. ]

Not unless you beg for it.

IV. MAKE ME BELIEVE YOU NOW;

[ The chaos, at last, is subsiding.

Koltira's standing in a shadowy corner of the commandeered bridge, arms folded over his chest, expression sour. He's in so much pain that movement is awful, speech nearly as bad. He dare not go searching in the corridors with the others; he knows needless slaughter will likely ensue. He knows he's losing his grip.

He stares at anyone coming near him. There's blood on his cracked armor, streaked across his neck and cheeks. Byfrost's edges are caked in gore.

He hisses through his teeth, his words halting, heavy. ]

Stay away from me.

IV.

[fateality]

[To put it lightly, this entire mission has been hell of time. Then again, they all have in their own ways, and he's endured them all. He always will, and pocket the past because it's more convenient that way.

In the end of it all, between the fighting and the chemicals and enduring, there is a part of him that would yearn some kind of softness. That's only natural. Yet, that's not something that can happen easily at the best of times, and now is probably impossible. He knows that Koltira is barely holding together as it is, and he's been trying to respect that.

That doesn't make him any less irritable.]

Yeah, I've been tryin' to give you your space. That what you want right now?

[Annoyed as he is, he tries to remember to not personalize it. He wants to do right by Koltira, but Twisted Fate is deeply flawed.

He knows it. He's hardly ever tamed it, albeit he does try. For him.]

ii.

[hedonistic]

Whoa, careful. That thing can take your whole arm off.

[The voice comes from somewhere behind Koltira, just slightly breathless like he himself had narrowly avoided such a fate. Which he sort of did--or, more accurately, seen that creature take a good chunk out of one of the Zymandis members and gotten the heck out of dodge before it could turn its fangs on him next. Kagari was wearing the uniform, after all, and he imagines these things probably can recognize color, if nothing else.]

[bestaround]

ONE
[ The first deck is a pretty happening place, what with murderous alien reptiles ravaging down the halls. Run down one in particular, one of the many that make up the sprawling science wing, and chances are you aren't going to miss the current ongoing scuffle.

Much as he tried to avoid it, 9S was left with little choice but to try to fend away a pair of the monsters. He's able to move with an inhuman grace and speed, dodging the massive maws that snap his way with a carefully timed flip, maneuvering in one fluid motion. To strike back he uses a sword, though he doesn't hold it so much as it floats ahead of him, and with every swing of his arm and quick flick of a hand, the weapon hacks and slashes as if an invisible person were fighting with it instead. It's clear this is to put some distance between himself and the creatures.

Problem being: he's struggling, and it doesn't look like he can keep this up forever. If you're able, he wouldn't turn down the aid. ]

TWO
[ Rounding up groups of the enemy to detain is really not up his alley—not on his own, anyway. 9S is aware of his limitations, and instead of attempting any further combat on his own, he hurries off in search of any Audentes needing a hand with the work.

Locating concentrations of Zymandis guards is made simple with the help of Pod, tailing along mid air as it always does, and so 9S heads toward those groups to see who's there.

And hey, he finds you! Facing off against a small pack of guards, and obviously outmatched. There's a good chance he doesn't recognize your face, but it's gotten a lot more easier to tell friend from foe in these dire times. 9S steps up to the plate— ]

Let me handle these robot guys—I'll leave the rest of 'em to you!

THREE
[ About a day has passed since Audentes' successful takeover of the Zymandis ship. With newfound freedom, surely you're taking the opportunity to peek through all the fun places you couldn't before. Right?

Sure. And one of those places is a cozy looking office around the first deck, once upon a time occupied by a scientist with lots and lots of paperwork. Though, upon opening the door, there's one odd thing in there...

9S reclines neatly by the arm of a mini sofa in the room, totally unconscious, kind of like he's taking a nap... He even has his blindfold pulled down around his neck, so it isn't hard to tell. Only, Pod is hovering above him as usual, and despite the interruption of someone walking in, continues to speak in the empty room: ]

Vitals: green. Black Box temperature: Normal. Remaining energy: 100 percent.

[ And continues to list more off. Is that weird or what. ]

FOUR
[ Hours after that... Should anyone be headed toward the engine core for any reason, near the destination they'll for certain come across 9S. Noticing there's someone with the same idea in mind, he doesn't waste any time in greeting them. ]

—Oh, hey, headed to the engine room? Maybe we could check it out together.

WILDCARD
[ You know what this is for. I'm available for plotting at deltaserver! ]

WILDCARD

[slapfight]

[With the bridge secured, Peridot has deigned to use her piloting skills to help commandeer the ship- surely she will have a better understanding of the buttons than these less intelligent beings.

The problem? She's not alone in here. There's someone she doesn't recognize also working at the controls and it's starting to grate. And ugh EVERYTHING HE'S DOING IS WRONG. She has no proof of this, of course, but surely it must be so.

So just before he presses another button, she reaches over and slaps his hand.] Stop that! You don't even know what you're touching!

Hayame | OTA

[kisha]

０１ ↣ 妖獣狩り ↣ MONSTER HUNTER

[In addition to all of this technological madness, hurtling through the black of space, the blaring sirens... there are now monsters roaming the halls of the Zymandis mothership. She'd had the misfortune of being near the fighting pits when the gates were opened... But at least this she understands.

Hayame is stained with blood, (not all of it red), flecked across her cheek and wild-eyed expression, splashed across the armor she's wearing, a few pieces of gore stuck to her back hooves. Only a little bit of it is hers, courtesy cuts across her cheek, shoulder, and belly where human met equine, but... nothing fatal.

She stands over the corpse of one of the enraged creatures, putting a forehoof on its skull and bearing down with her weight to reach down and pull two of her arrows from its body, panting softly as her long, braided hair falls over her shoulder.]

How many of these hellbeasts are there?

[It's spoken more to herself. But as for the answer... there's a beast, all legs and carapace, coiling up to spring from a side corridor.]

０２ ↣ 息苦しい ↣ OXYGEN DEPRIVATION

[The oxygen deprivation will hit everyone eventually, if the situation isn't corrected in the control room. But it hits Hayame twice as fast, possessed of two sets of lungs that are beginning to cry out for air. Panic rising in her throat, not able to understand what is happening to her body, why she cannot seem to suck in enough air, she tries to make her way somewhere safe, somewhere defensible...

But the centaur is still in exposed corridor when her hand slaps against the wall to steady herself, when she trips over her own hoof and falls to her front knees, both of her chests rising and falling anxiously fast and shallow, head spinning as she wrenches her sword from its sheath.

What was happening?]

０３ ↣ 高速度 ↣ HYPER SPEED

[If it's not one thing, it's another.]

You, there, where is-

[She intended to ask where the hell people were storing captives, an unconscious field agent that had looked somewhat important slung across her withers, but it is at this exact moment that the ship punches into hyperdrive.

There's a single second Hayame has for her pupils to dilate, for her four legs to splay out in attempt to ground herself... but then she's thrown through the air... right at you.

She also weighs close to one ton, so for your sake, it's probably best not to get trapped between her and the incoming wall.]

０４ ↣ 鬼札を引く ↣ WILDCARD

[If there's already 2+ hits on each prompt I would really appreciate if you hit me up for a custom starter, so that we can do something a bit more original instead of repeating scenarios! Please feel free to PM, plurk, or even just comment here! Would be glad to supply you with different battle scenarios, aftermaths, or etc.]

1

[ex_mettacrusher33]

[It springs, but it's not Hayame it hits.

It hits the hulking robot she met on the beach, all legs and steel and in the way. He doesn't remember what dragged him to this area of the ship, but the mutilated bodies laying in his teammate's wake was enough to shock him still -- still enough to end up a target.

At the very least, this body doesn't feel any pain and the creature attacking him doesn't have the advantage a human would have against him. Their claws dig into the metal of his frame as they howl, and he winds his arms around them, over and over like a pair of constricting snakes, as he squeezes them to his chest.

Their kick their feet, scuffing the pink paint of his legs, but he holds them firm as his attention turns to the woman covered in blood.] What are you doing.

Sieglinde Sullivan ⚗ OTA

[grunehexe]

01 ⚗ SHIP CORRIDORS ⚗ CHEMICAL RESPONSE

[Sieglinde may not be able to move quickly, though she cannot begrudge her toddling and unsteady gait when compared to what she had been capable of in the past. She keeps to the shadows where she can, tries to avoid being noticed and dodge confrontation... but her path towards her goal is arrested by the sight of a gaseous substance leaking from the vents.

Scrambling, she digs in the pouch attached to her chatelaine, (it's bigger on the inside), coming out with a brown leather mask that she hastily begins to fasten over her face as she rushes past, holding her breath- Until she encounters other ALASTAIR members.]

Quick- !

[She points back down the hall, at the substance she cannot help but assume may be deadly at worst, debilitating at best, cursing the Zymandis science department she has spent the last days in. To think they would do something so indiscriminate- !]

This section needs to be evacuated now!

02 ⚗ THE BRIDGE ⚗ BUTTON MASHING

[As a scientist herself, perhaps she feels responsible for that aspect most keenly. It's what she knows, it's been her entire life since she was old enough to think. And it's what brings her to the bridge after it has been taken by ALASTAIR, busting in as well as a barely four foot tall girl can, pulling off her gas mask.]

Who here has control of the ship's ventilation system?

[Not knowing yet that the controls on this thing were hard to decipher, she casts about for someone to answer her, panting softly in exertion from her rush to the bridge.]

We need to purge the air ducts immediately! Someone has introduced gases that are diving people mad-

03 ⚗ SCIENCE WING ⚗ TARAXA SCANNING

Those available, please bring any suspected Taraxa hosts to medical as soon as possible. Bound or unconscious, please.

[Once things begin to... settle down, (not that anything ever really settled, with ALASTAIR), Sieglinde dedicates herself to doing what she can about the Taraxa problem, sending out the call over the network.

The medical wing of Zymandis' ship is similar to that at Oska, and she has poked about their machines as much as she was allowed, and interrogated some of the captive medical staff. Enough to know well now how to operate the x-ray scanners.]

Hold it down, please- !

[But the frenzied, lost-hive Taraxa weren't exactly fans of having their head examined, and Sieglinde leans around the device to speak to her current assistant, gesturing at the field agent strapped to and struggling on the medical table.]

04 ⚗ WILDCARD

[If there's already 2+ hits on each prompt I would really appreciate if you hit me up for a custom starter, so that we can do something a bit more original instead of repeating scenarios! Please feel free to PM, plurk, or even just comment here! Would be glad to supply you with different battle scenarios, aftermaths, or etc.]

FOR URAHARA ⚗ TO RID THE WORLD

[grunehexe]

[It's chaos out there. Zymandis had detected their presence. The sirens are blaring. The agents are scrambling. The lab techs are hastily moving to lock down experiments, to shred files, to evacuate-

But Sieglinde can only think of one thing.

Her gaze moves across the lab, and then she is moving- to Urahara, dodging other scientists, her expression almost... eerily blank. And then she's at his side, and her hand reaches out to grab his lab coat pocket. The tiny witch doesn't say anything out loud... but she doesn't think she has to.

Dr. Mills.

They had sat through his lecture. He was a frail, wheelchair-bound old man. Physically, he was of no threat to anyone. But his brain...

She understood now, how Hilde and the others had felt when they tried to kill her.]

Twisted Fate | OTA

[fateality]

♥ post-mothership acquiring | network; un: cardmaster

Right, well. That was hell of a thing.

So listen up. I have healing magic, and I'm a pretty mobile guy. If you got yourself banged up during the fights and need a fix, I can be there in a few seconds. Just give a shout and give me an idea where you are so I don't have to sort it out. I got a headache enough as it is.

I don't know if there's anyone else here with actual healing magic other than Papyrus and me, but if you got the capabilities, now might be a good time to make that a little more public. I'm just saying.



♣ wildcard;
[Consider this an invitation for a wildcard tag, or you can message me at albaaulbath if you'd like a custom thread starter!]

i totally didn't forget to hit post on this

[fourscores]

[Something has to be said for just how quickly this team manages to trigger alarms, of course at least this time it was far more inevitable than the last. He really should expect less from this whole thing, as though this team would ever be capable of a stunning production. There's nothing to be done about it now, simply get the job done and over with.

If only it were so simple.

The chemicals and monsters rampaging about don't make it easy to get anything done, and Jhin finds himself in a corridor devoid of any Zymandis. Very devoid of those he could easily make beautiful, provided no one else from the team was around, and very much inhabited by a rather large creature.

Four shots are unfortunately not enough to down the beast, and it's not as though he's got any traps made up for a situation like this. Just that awkward moment of can he reload in time. Should he even bother?]

[purrtagonist]

A. The Personnel Deck

[Akira-- no, Joker, as mandated by the black trench coat he now wore in place of the Zymandis fatigues in which he arrived-- was no stranger to fighting monsters. granted, Shadows were a completely different breed of monster than the ones now roaming the ship, but hey! same concept, right?]

[. . . right?]

[well. turns out? not exactly]

[anyone hanging around the personnel deck (specifically, the shopping strip) won't be able to miss the scuffle between this new Audentes and his angry monster opponent. one of the shop windows shatters as Joker barrels through it, arms lifted over his face to protect himself from the razor-sharp shards of glass. his back slams against the ground, and whatever sent him flying through that window must've hit hard, because he winds up skidding a few feet until he thumps up against the wall. despite the rough landing, he's on his feet again within seconds with only the slightest of flinches, bracing himself as a long, scaly lizard monster with way too many spikes for its own good crawls out of the hole he just made]

Charming, aren't they?

[he tilts his head towards you, despite keeping his eyes trained on the creature, whose sharp claws allow it to cling to the metal of the walls]

Stand back if you can't fight. I've got this.

[. . . he could probably use a helping hand. especially because he looks unarmed?? wtf are you doing, kid]

B. The Bridge

[electronic locks, huh. . . tch. those were always more Oracle's specialty; homemade lock picks could do regretfully little to jimmy open airtight doors sealed with a numerical code. Joker finds himself wishing, for the briefest of moments, that she was here as well. he's almost certain her hacking expertise would've made short work of this barrier]

[but she isn't here, and he can't linger on that thought for long, or else it'll distract him from what needs to be done. there's a locked door between Audentes and their goal, so it's time to shove all if onlys aside to infiltrate the bridge]

Here. Let me try.

[if you're Audentes and you're also trying to figure out a way past these locked doors, a heavy hand will come to rest on your shoulder as this young man clad in black brushes past you. he flashes you a confident grin, framed by a strange black and white mask that he's wearing for some reason, before he braces himself]

[lifts one foot]

[and brings his heel down on the electronic keypad hard enough to smash it to bits and pieces. electricity crackles from the severed wires, and Joker he hops back to avoid getting caught by one of those stray sparks]

There. Shall we?

[well, that's one way to open a door]

C. Personnel Deck 2.0

[and eventually. . . it all comes to a halt]

[the chaos subsides. the gas in the air dissipates, now nothing more than a faint wisp of a memory. the monsters are subdued. the Zymandis agents still on board of the ship are detained and imprisoned. and in the silence that follows, the members of Audentes rest]

[it's been at least a day since the ship has been taken over, and Akira makes his way back to the (now partially ruined, thanks lizard monster) personnel deck. he finds himself leaning his shoulder against one of the vast, thick windows that looks out onto the far reaches of space, some carbonated alien drink akin to soda clutched loosely in his hand. he's a little bruised from yesterdays fights-- the dark purple marks that peek out from underneath his collar aren't exactly subtle-- but otherwise, he's still in one piece!]

[he's staring out of said window with a pensive expression on his features, cheek pressed against the glass, forehead wrinkled and brows furrowed. something is on his mind, but whatever it is, it seems to evaporate as you approach (if you approach). he lifts his head up and offers a tired smile as gestures to the (unopened) drink he's holding. it's an offering]

Is it still too early for celebratory drinking?

[he's joking; this drink is totally non-alcoholic. also probably stolen from one of the unmanned shops. good job, kid]

D. Wildcard

[if you'd like a personalized starter, feel free to hit me up at rogueclass! I'm always down for plotting]

for ryuji - reawakening

[purrtagonist]

[eleven hours and fifty nine minutes after the start of the infiltration mission finds Ryuji and Akira hanging out in the science wing. Akira, in particular, is seated on top one of the tables, legs dangling over the edge as he stares at a petri dish full of. . . mold. how many biological samples has he collected by now? so many. . . ALASTAIR better appreciate his hard work in stealing scientifically significant supplies]

Y'know, you've really gotta wonder what the heck they plan on doing with all this mold.

[he grumbles with light amusement in his voice, loud enough for his best friend to hear him and add some commentary if he wishes. but before Ryuji can--]

[twelve hours after the beginning of the infiltration mission, the shrill sound of the alarms fills the air]

Unauthorized personnel are aboard the Mothership. I repeat, unauthorized personnel are aboard the Mothership. We ask that you remain calm and report all suspicious activity and persons. Security has been deployed and the ship is now on lockdown. All Zymandis personnel must have identification available to proceed through lockdown checkpoints. Unauthorized intruders will be neutralized.

[Akira's on his feet, snapping to attention almost immediately, gaze flickering up to the speakers positioned near the ceiling. there are no flashing red lights to accompany the calm, crisp message and the wailing sirens, but he can feel the hairs on his back stand on end anyway. just like a Palace. . .]

[immediately, and without preamble]

-- that sounds like a cue if I've ever heard one! Time to move!

[hi Ryuji, leader is swiveling on his heel to face you and gesture wildly towards the door. TIME TO SPLIT]

keith | ota

[secondnature]

I: detaining taraxa agents

a: some success

[With the alarms sounding, Keith finds himself swearing off plans. What's the point in coming up with a big and complicated plan when none of them work out? The good news is that they have a lot of preparations in place since their arrival. He's glad for that. The bad news is that they probably know that Keith and the people who have signed on to help him are coming—and, as far as he knows, they haven't completed the main objectives. Or, they haven't just yet. From the way that things are going, it doesn't seem likely that they will.

Thankfully, he has one focus, and that's taking care of the taraxa hosts. Keith has some of the dispersal systems in hand, and by now, he's already changed into his armor. The armor is a big help in helping him keep his head, as he doesn't have to worry about rage ... or any of those other things. He just has to worry about taking the confused people down.

Keith summons his bayard into his hand, holding the dispersal system in the other. He glances at whoever's with him, whoever he's roped into helping him or whoever's decided to help even without that, and says:] If I can't get it to go off, we take down the giant green guy first. He's the strongest.

[Probably. When they had prepared for the taraxan hosts being in certain bodies, they only ... slightly prepared for this.]

b: and some failures

[Leave it to Keith to get a little in over his head. It doesn't take long for him to end up in a sticky situation or three. Some of the hosts have gone down more easily. Some of them are concerned about the Mother, which makes sense. Why wouldn't they be concerned?

Not that Keith is thinking about that right now, flat on his back with an arm against his throat to hold him in place. Though he's fully clad in his armor, he's still grunting loudly and struggling to maintain his breathing. He swipes his bayard in the air with one hand, and quickly transfers it to the other.

No success. Not yet.

He could use some help. His grunting is loud and noticeable, and more importantly, one that's a sign that he's in a lot of pain.]

II: commandeering the ship

[There are times when Keith is self important because he's arrogant, and because he's so used to having to live a selfish lifestyle to survive that he can't help it overly much. And then there are times when he's self important and selfish because he has little patience for others. After being unable to reach one side of the ship in a normal amount of time because of increased gravity, he's definitely on the impatient side.

When he enters the bridge, his lips are twisted downward, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes slightly pinched in frustration.]

What are you even doing here? [he asks the person closest to the command board at the moment, which could be anyone.

It could even be the person who restored gravity to normal—not that he knows that.]

III: aftermath

a: training area

[Within a day of their success in getting the taraxa hosts subdued and the ship completely commandeered, Keith finds himself restless. Being out in space helps with the restlessness, but not entirely. No matter how many times he returns to the bridge ready to take a shift or relieve someone else of their duties, he feels like he needs something to do.

That's why he takes to training. Should anyone come across that area, either out of curiosity or otherwise, they'll see Keith completing various methods of exercise. He's either doing pull ups, running, or practicing with his two swords—one being his bayard (black) and the other being a long, metal sword with a purple emblem on it.

He'll stop if he notices someone watching him, pausing to offer them a nod.]

There's space for more. [Even though he'd almost prefer to be alone, he knows that it's an urge that's fairly common for him.]

b: an odd collection of things (in stores, apparently)

[It doesn't occur to Keith to initially treat this ship as a weird place full of weird things. Just as he had treated the mall back home as a method of learning about his special blade, he did the same here. He saw the ship as a base, rather than somewhere that people lived.

Eventually, he finds himself in one of the clothing shops picking out weird blue T-shirts with stupid sayings on them, or in the electronics area picking up random things to toss into a bag he's carrying. Whatever it is, Keith stares at the item in question for a long time before deciding to pilfer it for himself.

One could even say that he's in a reverie of sorts, one that quickly fades into surprise should anyone interrupt him.]

Uh, what? Did you ... need something? [Keith looks momentarily guilty. And it's probably because he's justified stealing this stuff to himself, rather than to ... anyone else.]

[ooc: feel free to PM me for a customized starter, or feel free to take inspiration from these and wild card them.]

II

[slapfight]

[AS A MATTER OF FACT SHE WAS THE PERSON WHO RESTORED GRAVITY, YOU'RE WELCOME.] Hnngh. Now is not the time, Keith. [She throws him a look over her shoulder.] It's about time you got here, anyway. Everyone keeps pressing buttons, so I cleared them out- I need someone who actually knows what they're doing.

[That's pretty much high praise coming from Peridot. He's earned it. And also Lance is gone, but he'd want her to be nicer to his Pierre.]

bellamy | ota

[unburdening]

INTRUDER ALERT |

[ the alarms shriek.

bellamy, on the personnel deck, has the advantage of numbers; there's hundreds of zymandis agents milling around here, and he's hidden in plain sight. even when the guards start pulling people aside for identification, no one's likely to get to him too soon. which buys him time, but audentes isn't here to hide. and he damn well has no intention of hiding when other members of the team could be in trouble, and there's a job to be done. so he moves slow, deliberate, as he weaves through the crowd. he's almost made it to an empty corridor when someone calls "hey, where do you think you're going?"

then, he runs.

it's a single field agent who catches up to him first, which is lucky. he elbows them in the face before they can draw a weapon, manages to knock them out after a brief scuffle. it's while he's crouched down, hastily pocketing their keycard and anything else useful that he's interrupted.

specifically, by one of the guards, weapon pointed directly at him.

"stand up."

he complies, hands up in surrender.

now would be a great time for some help. ]

DASHING HEROICS |

[ later, he's on the move.

maybe there's a monster chasing after you. maybe you've been stopped by zymandis agents. if he recognizes anyone in trouble, he'll stop to help, whether that entails using one of his pulse grenades or tazing device or the gun he grabbed off the field agent, or simply putting himself between you and harm's way with a barked order -- ]

Hurry, get out of here! I've got this.

[ it's entirely possible that he does not got this. that's definitely not going to stop him.

against the monsters, he doesn't hesitate to use lethal force, but he tries to reason with the zymandis agents when he can -- including when reasoning simply means something along the lines of "i don't want to hurt you, we don't have to fight, just let us go." ]

BUTTON PUSHING |

[ while bellamy heads for the bridge, he might run into any combination of control misfires, such as:

suddenly getting drenched when the sprinklers go off without warning;

warning you "eyes sharp," as you turn a corner together and...start floating, thanks to the gravity shorting out;

or running into an area low on oxygen, either helping you out of there or in need of help himself, slumping against a wall, wheezing;

or maybe you're the one at the controls when he bursts in and demands: ]

What the hell is going on in here?

WILDCARD |

[ you can ping me to discuss any other scenarios! lmk if you'd like a customized starter or feel free to prompt me with anything else in this log. in the aftermath, he'll be checking up on people -- anyone he's talked to, or would recognize as audentes, can assume they'll be stopped and asked how they're holding up. ]

button pushing

[banded]

[It's been two years since Scott's last brush with hypoxia. The feeling within that room had been familiar for him at the time. Before the bite, he had been asthmatic, unable to draw in the right amount of oxygen at any given moment. No matter how hard he tried to be athletic, or to stand out, his need for an inhaler would threaten to get in his way. After that, Scott only had a brief return to that feeling thanks to Theo ensuring that his lungs weakened daily by wolfsbane. That last trip down hypoxia lane hadn't had anything to do with wolfsbane; he was caught in one of Gerard's traps, arms wrapped around Malia while he felt the last minutes of his life leave him.

In those moments, he hadn't thought about it, but he later realized how strange it was to nearly die again because he couldn't draw in any air. Returning to the true mean of Scott McCall: average and a little sickly, with nothing extraordinary to define him.

He doesn't expect that feeling here. Scott's hand reaches for the wall nearest him as he hears Bellamy go down wheezing. For his part, Scott knows he should do the same, and he does, lowering himself to the ground. He doesn't know how special this other guy is, but he knows that he can last longer than most. His body will still regenerate up to a point, until it no longer can.]

Try—[He stops after a moment.] Try to steady your breathing. If you can. I know it's hard. [Hopefully whatever this is passes. Hopefully this isn't some security protocol to kill all of them rather than allow anyone to be a prisoner. That seems extreme, but he knows Audentes is ... on the verge of being successful. Or they might be already. It might be one last effort at keeping them under control.]

Mettaton | OTA

[ex_mettacrusher33]

i - i don't wear wigs, this is my hair

[This hallway has basically turned into a traffic stop. Bottling the neck of it?]

My identification? Darling. This face is my identification.

[Mettaton's in the middle of posing to a guard, hip cocked to the side and an unfurled magazine clutched into his hand. A centerfold of himself dangles in the air. This doesn't please the guard who'd been pressing for ID, but the sheer nerve of the move vaguely impresses him. The guard; some sort of male, humanoid figure with splotchy, pastel-blue skin; raises a pink eyebrow from the robot and toward whoever is getting close enough to the scene.

This is obviously going to turn into a Thing soon. Mettaton cants his head at the new arrival and jabs a thumb back toward the guard slowly inching a hand to whatever weapon lays on his belt.] Honestly, can you believe the nerve of some people? Darling. Tell him who I am.

ii - why can't we be friends?

[It's deep into battle now. Screams pierce past the blaring sirens. Figures in white and gold fight amongst one another, Audentes against Zymandis. Mettaton himself has pitched in here and there, mostly to stem any further violence on either side. Of course, the latter group tends to be much harder to calm and force to reconsider their actions than the former, but...

Well. If they didn't, they wouldn't be in the situation they are right now, would they?

Said situation being Mettaton sitting in relative silence in the middle of the hallway, lounging his legs on a struggling Zymandis agent pinned to the floor. They've been trying to lift his weight off them for the past fifteen minutes, spewing curses and bile as Mettaton himself takes to filing the white of his gloves as if there were nails there.]

That doesn't sound like an apology, beautiful. I'm sure I could be convinced to move if you could be convinced to a little bit more courteous. [Considering how he'd seen this agent making bets in a certain arena, he has doubts to how easily they'll be changing their tune. But if someone feels like being the Bad Cop to Mettaton's dubiously Good Cop, then... No day like today.]

iii - makeover makeover

Grrrrrrrrcklee...

[The noise comes from a scaled, alien-looking creature twice his height (in his humanoid form, at least. If he were in his regular EX-form, they'd have the same stature). She paws anxiously at a wide-brimmed hat awkwardly balanced against one of her large horns and shifts her weight from clawed foot to clawed foot. Standing in the middle of a clothing store, the pair make an interesting sight.

It's been a few hours, since the ship officially became ALASTAIR property. As such, Mettaton has taken it upon himself to offer a little hospitality to one of the poor souls who'd been trapped in those awful fighting rings. He holds a mirror back to her, his smile capable of melting steel, and shakes his head at her questioning gaze.] Of course not, sweetheart. You look stunning in it! A practical ray of sunlight! A rose in a sunflower field. You're a star!

[He snaps his fingers, once, twice, at the first sign that they aren't alone, trying to get the attention of his passing teammate.] Excuse me! Does she or does she not look stunning? [An option to say "no" is not given.]

Wildcard

ii. did somebody say BAD COP?

[slapfight]

[You'd think Peridot with her views on helping people and doing what Steven would do would be... marginally less inclined to be the bad cop, buuut this is also the gem who built security drones to protect her home and WOULD USE THEM. If a Zymandis agent is being uncooperative, well... They might need some reassurance.

So she strolls up, catching the end of Mettaton's little chat with his captive and bulls a handful of little metal pebbles out of her pocket. She doesn't have weapons in a traditional sense, but she's learning to use little things to her advantage.

Without preamble, she flops down in front of the agent's face and holds her hand up, wiggling her fingers so the little pebbles circle her hand.] Let me try, Mettaton.

[And she flicks one little rock at the man's head. Not hard enough to pierce the skin, but being smacked in the face by a little bit of gravel does hurt. And, more than that, it's annoying. She repeats this again.]

the twelfth doctor | ota

[spacerhyme]

i. creature feature;

[ he at least managed to extract himself from the science wing without much hassle, caught in the midst of the chaos and confusion and armed with a convincing identification card and a well-honed talent for bullshitting his way out of tight spots. but his good fortune does eventually run out, in the next wing over.

the creature stands before him, tightly wound on four tense legs, the cleaver-like growths on its head glinting in the artificial light. the doctor, eyes bugging with either fear or awe, is caught between a wall and a hard place. but he's not entirely unprepared. he stands still with one hand splayed behind him, fingertips against the cool metal of the ship, while the other reaches out tentatively towards the alien's snout. he's clutching something in his palm, and whatever it is, it's got the beast's attention.

the beady little eyes are locked onto his every movemet, but he hasn't been skewered yet. good sign? ]

That's it. Now, if you could just...

[ he starts to uncurl his fingers, but the movement's too sudden, the spell is broken. a growl rumbles in the creature's throat, nostrils flaring and pupils widening. not a good sign— ]

ii. something in the air;

[ he's having a rougher go of things by this point. and he's not, it may be noted, currently breathing. and yet he seems to be doing just fine, booking it through the halls.

his lungs shut themselves off the moment he spotted the first wisp of vapor leaking into the air, detected the chemical tang. a handy trick of his physiology. by his count, he's got about eight and a half minutes before he begins to feel the effects of oxygen deprivation and will have no choice but to inhale; you can accomplish a lot in eight and a half minutes, and finding a way to flush out the ventilation system is currently at the top of his list. unfortunately, this is a large ship, and he hasn't completely memorized the floor plan.

or, it was at the top of his list until he runs across any agent, audentes or otherwise, who's succumbed to the effects of the gas. he doesn't think twice about it: whether or not they're behaving violently, he has to see if they can be broken out of the chemical-induced psychosis. no one should be left to suffer like this.

eight and a quarter minutes. ]

iii. the bridge;

[ at last...! he's made it to the brains of the operation. unfortunately, it's all gone completely haywire by this point.

he approaches the situation with an unyielding determination to prevent this ship from killing anyone on board. he'll announce himself with a certain authority, try to direct anyone who's standing around looking lost. but mostly he types. even as the air drains out of the room, or as he begins to float out of his seat, his fingers don't stop dancing across the controls. he's managed to grasp some of the essentials — the basic skeleton of the system is familiar enough, having hacked into as many ships' as he has. but the more complicated controls are completely foreign and these aren't the greatest working conditions.

feel free to assist (or, y'know, not assist) during any system malfunction, or allow him to assist you. he's not going anywhere until this is sorted. ]

wildcard!

[ ping me if you'd like a personalized starter! ]

ii.

[predomination]

[Just before it lunges, there's a throaty baritone chant, untranslatable to the magitek.] Bakudo #63: Sajo Sabaku.

[Whips of light appear seemingly out of nowhere, wrapping around the beast's front limbs and torso, leaving it thrashing and far from helpless, even with it being unable to break the binding. Once it's down, Urahara can be seen a few feet behind it, lowering his hands to his hips and making a whistling noise of relief.]

My, my, that was almost terrible. I didn't want to have to do that, but I didn't want you to get skewered either.

scott mccall | ota

[banded]

[Five minutes into the alarms going off, Scott vanishes from where he's trying to find the closest Audentes member, only to appear back in his place five minutes later two years older. The difference isn't clear, however: since Scott is a werewolf, he ages much more slowly, and two years isn't much when someone's a burgeoning adult. He blinks, momentarily discombobulated, before everything begins to sink in, before he understands, and looks out at everything that's going on.

He had been prepared before, but things have changed. He's changed. Either way, his goal here remains the same as it always has: save everyone.]

I: such sweet sorrow

[Although Scott's body is likely to help him through the effects of the gas quickly, he finds himself kneeling beside the knocked out body of a Zymandis agent, jaw set, brow furrowed, and with tears glistening in his eyes. Nothing is going right for him at the moment. It feels like no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries, there's no way that he can help all the people here. From every angle, there's someone who's rushing him, or someone who's running, or—

Or something.

Every now and then, the weight of the world on Scott's shoulders almost forces him to his knees. Right now, that weight is coming out thanks to the gas. His thoughts aren't completely together, except that he feels a touch of ... sadness. Like no matter how hard they work here, they're in over their heads. What if he's wrong to keep fighting? And so on.

If anyone finds him in this state of uncharacteristic disrepair, he'll look at them and ask:] Don't you think we should just give up? Less people will die that way. On both sides.

II: you're not a monster, you're a ... whatever you are, but it's a good thing

[Scott does his best to sweep in and save people from the creatures, complete with howling loudly to try to get them to come to their senses. It doesn't work that well, but it's his panicked backing up against the wall with his hands up in surrender with him pleading that ... begins to get through. It occurs to him exactly what's happening here. A howl didn't work. Kindness does.]

Hey ... hey. You're used to them wanting you to mess with people, right? But that's not the life you ever wanted to live.

[He can either be caught talking to the creatures to calm them down, or in the aftermath, looking on at the newly chiller creatures with a bit of frustration. He knows there are bad people here. He knows it, and it frustrates him to see some of the bad they can do.

But he knows that's important, too. He can't keep himself blind to what Zymandis does wrong.]

III: detaining Zymandis agents—peacefully

Look—I promise we're here because we all want the same thing. [Okay, that's maybe not the best way to put it. With all the chaos, Scott knows that it might not be the best time to talk. But still, he tries to appear as disarming as possible. His head tilts forward slightly, his hands remain where they can be seen, and he tries to keep his body somewhat slack. He doesn't want to have to rely on aggression here. Anything that involves aggression might involve more people getting hurt.

And from what he can hear around the ship, there's enough of that going on.]

I can't say I know how it happened. That's not really my thing to tell. But you guys want to make sure that life can exist after this, right? After what we're living in now? Well, it turns out that it can. That—that what you've been doing to help the next multiverse ... well, there's a different way to achieve it. [That last little bit is meant to be bullshit. Scott realizes he doesn't want to tell them that they've been tricked, as it's a bad thing to say, and a poor time to say it.]

So, can we talk?

[Whether Scott is successful or not, he tries different versions of this speech with a number of different groups.]

IV: aftermath

a: caring for the prisoners

[It becomes apparent before long that less than a hundred people are nowhere near enough to really help out numbers like these. There are bad prisoners and good prisoners, but he knows that some of them have to be grouped together. All he knows is that he wants them to be treated well, and to understand that what's happening to them isn't ... anything as petty as revenge.

For the most part.

For his part.

He takes food and other items to various different parts of the ship on rotation, trying to ensure that people aren't suffering. It's important to him, and if anyone has pets or anything that they need caring for, he'll also be going out of his way to do that.

If anyone cares to join him, he'd be glad for the company. In fact, he'll be looking for recruits to help him out.]

b: relief

[A couple days after they really get the hang of ... accidentally commandeering what is really another temporary prison ship (because the numbers kind of demand that), Scott sits in the cafeteria with a plate full of food, mind focused on the different people trying to go about their lives. He picks at his food idly, popping an oddly shaped french cry in his mouth.]

Honestly ... this could've been worse. Way worse.

[He doesn't know how else to say that.]

I was really honestly afraid it would be.

i.

[ofobedience]

[Giovanni happens to be stalking swiftly through the same corridor where Scott is currently kneeling, an unconscious Taraxa agent slung over one shoulder and another -
a much larger being - dragging behind him, fingers curled into the collar of their uniform. He'd have paused in his actions whether Scott had spoken the words or not, had already identified the scent of him, recognised the curve of his back despite that the weight that seems to bear down on it isn't a sight he necessarily expected to see.

The words are spoken, though, and Giovanni momentarily stops his determined forward trajectory, takes a moment out from herding up the now Motherless Taraxa to attend to his teammate. His pack leader.

Vaguely, his brows pull together in a frown, eyes narrowed behind their orange lenses.]

No. I don't. Whatever's got into you, now isn't the time for it.

Loki | Open

[selfimage]

i. whoops

[ if it's one thing he's good at, it's sneaking. he's shed his illusionary clothing, the stark white and gold of Zymandis, and replaced it with his tacky green jacket and green scaled armor. with so many ornaments and useless buckles hanging from the folds and hems of his jacket, it's a wonder that he's able to move as quietly as he does.

sometimes he's behind a corner, alerting a teammate to his presence with a low hum. other times he's invisible, sliding in and out of illusion to confuse just about Zymandis agent that he can catch unaware. he's good at running, and that's what he ends up doing most of the time.

so, when he comes face to face with a hammer-headed alien beast, he cranes his head back and frowns as he looks up at in. the background is alive with the shriek of the alarms, blaring their painful vibrations into the air. ]

...

Oh, hello.

[ pause. ]

I'll be going now.

[ and he skims on his heels to turn. ]

ii. aftermath

[ the first thing that he feels is rage: boiling, heated, silent rage. the leader was never there, nor was the update, and once again Loki feels played. ]

Damn him. [ it comes out as a low, intense hiss of a poisonous snake about to bite.

Theodor had never been as high on his shit list as King Loki had been, but he's slowly gaining momentum through the ranks. there were many reasons for this, but the shift in focus from the assurance of his own fate to that of someone trying to destroy the multiverse was certainly one of the larger ones.

with the ship taken there's no need for the sneaking, and while he regrets it somewhat as it leaves his mind to wander, he takes it as a few points for freedom. those who pass him are more likely than not to go unnoticed as Loki cloaks himself in his own thoughts. ]

iii. wildcard

[ if you want me to write another prompt, or if you'd like to throw me something, go for it! for extra plotting you can PM this journal or hit me up at hadal ]

WHOOPS

[unburdening]

[ bellamy's goal is, ultimately, to get to the bridge; but that doesn't take priority over keeping his teammates safe. he keeps his eyes sharp for familiar faces as he runs through the chaos, stopping whenever he recognizes someone in trouble. he's spent the weeks since getting rifted to oska unsettled by its relative peace, only to find himself now in familiar territory. this isn't fighting for survival in an unfamiliar forest, but not much else is different.

he cuts through a corridor, finds himself -- where he would've gone anyway, where he keeps running, between a snarling monster and, in this case, loki. on instinct, he reaches for the dwindling stock of weapons at his belt, saying, ]

Stay behind me!

[ -- as the monster lunges at them. ]

Shuusei Kagari | OTA

[hedonistic]

i. just desserts

[To some extent, Kagari saw this coming. Of course, they had a better run than he expected--he'd thought Zymandis would be waiting for them by the time they rifted in, honestly--but judging from their last stint in Leramzen, well. Clearly Audentes wasn't the best suited to sneaking.

What he didn't expect, of course, is the part where Zymandis released the monsters into the ship. He's been something of a caged beast himself, all his life, so he can understand something of the rage that fuels the wanton destruction that emerges all around him. But at the same time, he's disgusted. Not with the monsters, certainly, but with Zymandis. Kagari wasn't exactly a holder of the multiverse's strongest moral compass, but throwing your friends to the wolves to save your own neck? That's a step too far, even for him. He watches these people shove each other into the path of these beasts, watches them easily knock down support beams and heavy objects to crush not just the monsters on their tail but any unfortunate enough to be standing nearby, and he feels a visceral sort of contempt. How utterly pathetic.

One such Zymandis agent cries out to him for help--half-crushed beneath the piece of ceiling knocked down by a monster. Not moments ago had he used one of the injured as a living shield. Kagari doesn't move. The monster is coming back around.]

Serves you right, fucker.

ii. movies are lying liars that lie [ anti-gravity ]

[Sometime in the commandeering of the Mothership, someone at the bridge has managed to turn off the gravity. In theory, this should be awesome--doesn't everyone imagine the thought of weightlessness with a sense of awe and wonder? Well, it turns out that that isn't so great when you're suspended in midair with absolutely no means of propelling yourself in any direction.

After the third consecutive failed attempt to swim like a fish through the air, Kagari just lets out a huge, irritated groan.]

This is way less awesome than it's made out to be in the movies. What's the point if I can't float around on my back like some kind of kickass space otter or something???

iii. all aboard the oxygen deprivation express -- cw: emetophobia

[He doesn't notice when his body first starts to feel weird. He's been running and fighting so much that it seems only natural that he'd be tired, and if he stumbles a little, if his arms and legs are slower to respond than they should be, he chalks that up to the whole mess with the gravity flickering on and off.

It's then that he sees something, out in his peripheral vision -- no, someone. The image is blurred at the edges, hazy, but it's distinct enough that Kagari can feel his entire body shaking, and even if he had recognized that something had gone wrong again aboard the ship, he wouldn't be able to tell that that was why he couldn't breathe.]

....T-tou-san??

[A distorted, half-remembered rasp rings out in his ear, Shuusei, is that you?

He falls to his knees, one hand clutching his stomach, the other clamped over his mouth.

Shuusei...? Do you remember me?

This isn't happening. This can't be happening. He hasn't seen his father in 17 years. He doubles over, retching bile onto floors already stained with blood and dirt, and remains there, trembling and wheezing from the steadily deteriorating lack of oxygen as he struggles to will the image away.]

ii;

[feathery]

So that's like a cry for help, right.

[Davesprite volunteers this from where he's floating in a doorway, watching Kagari. How long has he been there? It is a mystery.

His own personal anti-grav feature means he makes his way over to Kagari easily, in any case. In fact, he's preternaturally fast about it, darting over as he glances around for hostile Zymandis agents.]

Anyway, you could float around on your back, but looking kickass while doing it is another story.

fiona / open

[cachemoney]

a. ANIMAL CRACKERS.

[It's a good thing Fiona spent some time walking around the Mothership before shit got Real, because it's pretty goddamn handy to have at least a passing knowledge of the layout when she's trying to escape a rampaging pit-fighting monster thing.

Right now, she's crouched down and pressed up against a lab table as something with heavy steps lumbers down the hall, clutching her doglike skag to her with one arm. In her other hand, she has her derringer prepped and ready to fire, ready to take out the monster or, probably less ideally, someone else who slides into her hiding spot.]

b. LET'S GO SHOPPING.

[To the victor go the spoils, or so the saying goes, so Fiona is using her advantageous new position as victor (largely by association; if she had her way, they would have crash-landed the whole thing) to find something to loot. Obviously her first stop is a clothing store.

Unfortunately, it's been as much a victim to the battle as everything else on the ship: there's a big hole in the glass storefront, clothes are strewn about, and everything is damp.]

Oh, my god, [she says to no one in particular, her boots making gross squishing noises as she walks across the soggy carpet.] I should have gone and stole something before all hell broke loose.

c. PRISON PIT.

[Fiona's snagged a Popsicle® from the cafeteria, since apparently there's no margarita mix and she has to display an air of indifference in front of their Zymandis prisoners somehow. (She is also wearing sunglasses. She's trying.)

Still dressed in the white bodysuit with metallic embellishments, she stands above the pit that was once used for making monsters fight one another, hip cocked. There is a monster of her own standing at her feet, snarling and drooling, which she hopes is intimidating to the gaggle of scientists and other non-combatants in the pit below.]

Alright. Sooome of you... can't stay here. Because there's no room. But how, I wonder, do we decide who gets to stay?

d. WILDCARD ME.

[ Just throw a prompt at me or hit me up here if you want to plan something! ]

b.

[fateality]

I feel you on that. Everything's trashed or just trash.

[Frankly, he's a little salty that there isn't anything good. That, and even looting isn't brightening his mood any. He definitely should have looted before shit hit the fan.]

I'm just hopin' there's somethin' left in the bar at this point.

Pannacotta Fugo | OTA (cw: violence)

[unholey]

i.

[Picture this: a hallway on the personnel deck, with windows looking into posh cafeterias to the left and the Mothership's mechanical park to the right. Usually bustling with off-duty Zymandis agents looking for something to eat or just to stretch their legs, it stands eerily empty.

One of the cafeterias is of particular interest. This is because it's covered in bloody handprints on the inside. The outside pane has fared no better: there's a hideous spiderweb of cracks with a smeared heart of black blood radiating from the center, sickening evidence left behind from where someone was slammed into the glass.

That someone didn't get far. They are a four-armed figure, more moth-like than human, in Zymandis colors-- a scientist, if their labcoat is anything to judge by-- struggling with the final dregs of their strength to push their attacker off of them. Scattered around them is a disorganized sheaf of paper; handwritten notes about the effects of the chemical compounds that have been released into the Mothership's ventilation system.]

"Please-- I'll tell you where we-- Stop, please, just stop--"

[Fugo does not stop. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't seem to care that he's won, or that he's hit the scientist long enough that his knuckles have started to bleed. His cold, flat expression is at odds with the raw fury that guides his fists.

Slam. He's oblivious to the figure in the cafeteria, frantic with terror, pounding on the inside of the glass. It's impossible to make out what this second Zymandis is saying by ear-- but their meaning is easy to guess at. They're trapped, they're scared, they want out now.]

ii.

[A lot of things about this mission suck. It wasn't so bad when they were trying to accomplish it by stealth. He could do things when everyone was still sneaking around. But now that the cards are face-up on the table and the general sentiment of the team continues to be the overly-sentimental oh, no, be as nonlethal as possible, it-- everything sucks. All he's good at in situations like this is killing.

But. Even the softest heart among them, Fugo thinks, would be hard pressed to find a non-lethal solution to the hulking monster tearing that's all bloodied horns and teeth. (All skin and bone, a guiltier part of him notes. All scars and old wounds. Telltale signs of abuse and starvation.) Something has to be done. There are elevators behind it that he knows leads to the bridge. He has to get by. Other members of their team will need to use this area to get by. And the space is already pretty fucked up with the sad remains of whoever last tried to sneak by it; the monster is making short work of the corpse, gulping it down bones and all in enormous mouthfulls. ]

[And so. Fugo cups his hands, with their bruised and bloodied knuckles, and hollers:]

Hey! Look this way, dumbass! [The monster looks up from its meal, pupils narrowing to angry slits. It spots the latest threat to its new den immediately and roars.] Yeah, that's right! You! Get over here, you ugly son of a bitch!

[Fugo wonders if this is a moment where he should be afraid. The monster is about as fast as he thought it would be, which is: way too fucking fast for how big it is. He is, maybe, in a distant and faraway place. But it's hard to be scared of anything with Purple Haze inside of him. It's hard to be afraid of anything that he taunts to come on closer, just a little closer, to just get in his range already.

Sometimes, it takes a while for Purple Haze to pull himself together. Fugo lets him manifest so rarely that sometimes it feels as if he's pulling his cantankerous Stand out of bed by the elbow. Not today, thankfully. His Stand, as grotesque as ever with his wild eyes and stitched-up mouth, shimmers into being on his feet. His knobby fingers are already curled into fists. The first thing Purple Haze does when he's summoned for the first time in over half a year is howl, the stitches holding his neck to his shoulder heaving, before throwing himself at the outside edge of his five-meter prison.]

[This is going to be messy. It always is.]

(OOC: Just as a heads-up, the second prompt is likely going to feature some body horror of the literally monster-melting variety. Please check out Purple Haze's information page to see what you'd be getting into with that prompt. And if you're in the mood to thread something more lighthearted, I have a less heavy network post up here. And, as always, if you'd like to do something else please feel free to hit me up by PM or at relares! I'd be happy to write a closed prompt for you. o7)

ii-ish

[digiorno]

[Giorno doesn't arrive on the scene until after the creature is a fading smear on the floor. This is something he regrets, though not because he doubts Fugo's abilities. Far from it. It's just . . .]

[It's just that when things go really bad, when Fugo has to fight for his life, it leaves him so drained. So empty, so sad--or not sad, which is the problem. So nothing. Giorno wishes he could be there whenever that happens, to catch the pieces of Fugo that Purple Haze's presence serves to burn away and push them back in.]

[He couldn't today, though. He didn't arrive in time. He took too long, and it's hardly as though he could be blamed for it, because he's been fighting, too--but when he crosses the room to stand a few meters from Fugo, just barely out of range, he feels responsible all the same. Gold Experience graces the space by his side, looking curiously across the space between them at Purple Haze while Giorno regards Fugo with the gentlest concern.]

Fugo.

[His voice is soft, fond and wistful at once. Look at me, it says. And: I'm not afraid.]

ODINSON // OTA // AFTERMATH

[deemed]

[The battle is won, the ship theirs, but there are yet Zymandias agents hiding on the ship who must be found and restrained. In his hunt through the ship Odinson has found a few and left them subdued in the corridors to be picked up and imprisoned.

He is pleased the battle is over. He has not felt at ease since stepping on the ship, something in the pit of his stomach has refused to settle since the moment they arrived in disguise. He went to the healers after the battle in case there were some illness him, but they sent him on his way after healing the broken wrist he sustained in the fighting.

So the restless energy pushes him on, searching through the ship rather than sit and celebrate with his comrades. He finds himself in an area of the ship with higher security, finding that the rooms contain assorted treasures and rarities that Zymandis must have collected across worlds and timelines. Something in his gut churns and a sense of something akin to urgency settles over him. He finds himself running through rooms, down corridors, searching for he knows not what.

Until he turns a corner and stops.

A room filled with assorted odds and ends lies before him, but it may as well be empty. Odinson sees only the hammer. Now that he sees her, he recognises the pull in his gut for what it is- it is her, Mjolnir. She calls for her Thor.

The fine hammer he holds drops to the floor. He does not approach.

It takes weeks to return to Oska- most of the first week Odinson can be found in this room, sitting at the edge of it and watching the hammer. If rumour gets out that there's a hammer which no one can lift, he'll do nothing to quell it.]


[ooc: Feel free to have characters interact with Mjolnir in other threads, logs, network posts- she's coming to Oska! Also please don't have your character lift the hammer without checking with me first, thanks! Either PM this journal or sprakles.]

[kisha]

[In all of ALASTAIR, there were only two people who Hayame found herself actually glad to see. In whose company she did not feel as misplaced, as driven mad as she did when left alone with those whose cultures she could not understand or whose opinions seemed insane.

She avoided the magiteck even worse than she had before after her disastrous attempt at assisting the weaker members of the team, but she used it to locate those two people.

And for days, Odinson has been... somewhere odd.

It's not like she's concerned. It's not like she's worried or something, for a man as strong as that, it wasn't like he would need her for anything anyway.

But it's that or spend more hours terrified of the black, and so the sound of her hooves echoes in the treasure chamber before she arrives, cautiously pokes her head in before she enters proper, looking about in something like awe.]

... so this is where you have been.

[Not that she was looking, of course.]

Baaaan | OTA

[perma_banned]

5 Seconds In...

[Ban had been settling in with a drink in the well-polished and maintained bar when the initial alarm went off. Just tipsy enough to get antsy and sober enough to realize what a bad idea was and still not care too much about it, Ban stood out from his bar stool and calmly pulled off his shirt, tossing it aside in the bartender's face.

Snapping his fingers--he found himself clad in Audentes' colors, flexing his fingers through the soft leather of his gloves. All around, people in the bar were either too drunk to figure out what was going on or they were stupefied by the idea of infiltration. It took a half minute for anyone to notice that Ban had been shadow-boxing in front of the bar, ignoring everyone around him for the most part.

The moment someone pulled a gun, all hell broke loose. Magic and plasma bolts erupted from the bar which, after roughly thirty more seconds, went deathly silent as Ban stepped out the front door to the hall, inspecting his shirt which was rife with smoking holes.

The alarm had gone off several times since he outed himself, prompting a furrow of his brows once he got into the hall--hearing it once more.] That's already getting really annoying~.

Some time later...

[After getting thrown off his feet into the ceiling a few times, rained on and bounced around the hallways like a ragdoll, Ban found himself rolling headlong into the enclosure with the animals. He had sworn he was looking for the labs. Coming to stand up, he found himself faced with snarling, confused, hungry, and vengeful looking monsters. A furry claw smashed the ground in front of him shortly after he hopped back.

There were a few panic-stricken Zymandis agents in the back, being picked off and devoured by a few of the giant animals, which were struggling with the new strange changes in their environment. Ban couldn't have said the smell was all that great, either. A massive green tiger with two heads and four sets of eyes bore down on him, frothing at the mouth.

It stopped when it managed to see his expression, devoid of anger, fear, or really anything at all. Ban didn't look as if he cared at all about it--but it stopped in its tracks for the simple reason that it could tell it would die if it went any further. A howl of frustration came from the small of its back as a grizzled looking Zymandis agent on its back struck it with a shock baton. The tiger hissed and bent its back, trying to move away from Ban before it was struck again.

The beast went still when Ban found himself suddenly standing on its back in front of its rider. The agent, startled, raised his baton and stopped when Ban presented a closed fist to him, palm up. His expression took on the perspective of horror one would expect when he saw the contents.] What're you--

[On Ban's opened hand, there was a collection of bloody teeth. The agent choked--spitting blood out of his mouth. With a sunny smile, Ban answered him--]

They're your teeth ♪. [The agent dropped his baton to the ground, just as Ban jumped off of the tiger while holding the sputtering, bloody man by the front of his shirt. The tiger retreated into a cage, curling up in the midst of the madness in a spot it knew it was safe. Leaning over the agent, Ban spread his cheeks with a knife of a smile.]

How about you do me a favor and tell me where the helm is~? Before I start taking you apart piece by piece ♪.

Fish Sticks No More

[There didn't seem to be an easy way to lock up most of the agents from what Ban could tell. He made an effort to at least lock a few dozen people in their rooms and jam the doors enough that they couldn't slide them open and get out but there were plenty of magic-users and scientists he decided to leave to the rest of Audentes to sort out.

At the very least, he was nice enough to punch clean holes through doors so he could slide food through, occasionally. Having been in prison most of his adult life, he realized how not to treat prisoners. He wasn't really the sort to hold a grudge but that was because he had been immortal for most of it and usually, self-loathing held him back to boot. Other prisoners, though--he understood why they would try to escape and try to kill guards. After the general consensus of the crew showed they wanted to keep the agents alive and convert them--Ban showed a little bit of concern.

He could be found humming as he strode down the halls, sticking food through the holes he had made in the numerous doors he punched through while tipping back a bottle of wine he stole from the bar, giggling to himself over nothing the whole time.

As for the remaining fish sticks, well... Ban fed those to the tigers.]

5 Seconds

[araigneedusoir]

[When the alarms had started to blare, was the moment Widowmaker decided it was best to disappear as best as she could. The layout of the ship had become familiar enough to her that she was able to slip by groups of patrols and blend in with the mass of confused and outraged Zymandis agents, acting just as they were.

Of course, her luck did eventually come to an end, her quiet stroll interrupted by the presence of one of the said patrols she'd been avoiding. When asked to present her ID she made a comment about having left it in her room, casually making to go get it before someone deemed it too suspicious. Two attempts to talk her way out of the mess she'd been presented with later, she went for a more violent approach.

The uproar is in full swing by the time Ban steps out into the hall, with Widowmaker heaving one guard over her shoulder and rolling out of the way of a few shots. In an attempt not to actually kill anyone she's off the floor a second later, hitting one guard in the face and using a nearby sentry robot as a shield to keep from getting shot.

She notices Ban a second later, smiling at him as she kicks the robot straight into the remaining guards, leaving them to struggle to get it off.]

It'll continue to be annoying until someone shuts it off.