redmarsshit | redshift: tdm #4

redshift: tdm #4

Redshift: Welcome to the v͖͕̺̲̘̱̜͎o̴̦̣̠̦̘̹͞i̯̖d̛̪̬͈̱̦̝͍̕.

▶ Click here to read what characters will experience when arriving in Anchor.

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a. the red shit.

There are rumblings in the deepest, most overgrown part of the agricultural area, where until very recently there was a lingering pocket of red algae. The good news is, the red algae is gone! The bad news is, it all got eaten by a mutated bear-thing with giant antlers. The algae did a number on the poor thing, doping it up and confusing it to the point where everything is an enemy.

What’s worse? The algae has adapted, colonizing the creature’s entire body. The algae has mutated in the process, releasing a protective cloud of toxins that causes severe hallucinations, as well as some of the protective and euphoric qualities that the red algae originally possessed. Which means the mutated, antlered, bear-thing is accompanied by a small army of other creatures, from large to small, who are all very invested in its survival and also are being driven crazy by its presence.

Prepare yourselves for one hell of a hunt. These animals can pop up almost everywhere in the agricultural zones, and when they do show their paws it’s to go on a rampage.

b. fashionista.

It wouldn’t be Anchor if the bots weren’t fucking shit up.

This time, the spa bots have gone full stylist coach, chasing down residents and trying to do their hair, nails, makeup, or change their clothes. In some cases, they're literally sweeping people off their feet and carrying them to the hot springs, massage rooms, and spa areas to be pampered. Too bad most of their cosmetics are fifty years out of date and the closests they’ve raided either had another resident’s clothes or moth-eaten dust-covered rags.

Is that the jacket Idris Elba was wearing in the introductory video? It kinda looks like it.

But it’s not all bad! The bots actually give great massages and fantastic mani-pedis. They also have a small stash of fresh cosmetics and clean clothes that got left behind in the spas. They might not fit great, but they look pretty good!

If your character doesn’t practice proper self-care, well. They’d better watch out. These bots have a particular eye for the sad, the filthy, the tired, and they’re going to make sure you get some damn fine pampering.

c. whole foods: 2.0.

Remember that whole Whole Foods grocery store thing that happened? Well, the grocery store and the zombies are still there. Only now there are more zombies, and two giant supply trucks have shown up, one behind and one in front of the store.

The one at the rear of the store can be accessed fairly easily. It’s painted to look like a giant United States flag, with a dramatic crying eagle emblazoned across the back doors. Inside, there is beer. Lots and lots of beer, and a bunch of semiautomatic rifles. Also some skeletons. Seems like the guns and booze didn’t help them.

The one in front of the store is thickly surrounded, the creatures clawing at the plain white sides of the semi like there’s something precious inside.

If Anchorites can make it through, if they can fend off the monsters and keep from getting torn to pieces by a hoard of bloodthirsty beasts, they’ll find out what that precious truck contains.

It’s twinkies. A semi full of twinkies. We hope you’ve got a sweet tooth, Anchor.

Navigation.

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[Oh dear, that is much, much louder than he anticipated, and as such, immediately draws the attention of every undead in their vicinity and then some.

With Carlisle focused on protecting his companion, his little crew goes on the alert as well. He might not be able to give the mindless detailed commands, but the impression of defend us apparently gets through to them: as the clergyman ensnares another two heading toward Qubit, he misses one of the faster, enraged zombies on his periphery, only for said zombie to be stopped in his tracks when the controlled coalition swarms him. The one lingering near the truck, who had been set on snacking on the supposed technomancer just moments before, does the same as another aggressive zombie comes tearing across the gap from the Whole Foods -- he lunges and knocks the faster undead to the ground, ripping into his abdomen with his bare hands, leaving a rotten, bloodied mess behind.

As useful as he feels at the moment in this specific situation, Carlisle will be thankful for when Qubit gets through the lock, as the grisly display put on by his growing band of undead helpers (14ish) is a bit much for him.]

Edited 2019-09-29 22:11 (UTC)

[ Qubit keeps half an eye out while he's working, but he hardly needs to, in the end. Carlisle is true to his word. He can hear some of the commotion over the sound of the dremel, including - at a moment when it's not touching the lock - some disturbingly crunchy, wet noises. He doesn't look.

Finally, though, the grinding noise stops as the lock comes apart. ]

Got it!

[ Qubit rattles it free and tosses it aside, then turns back to Carlisle - and the small-scale battleground between them. It's about as gruesome as it sounded, with a couple of the zombies turned inside-out in the sand. He wrinkles his nose in distaste, but doesn't comment on it. (He's seen worse.)

Carlisle himself is unharmed, but his entourage has roughly doubled now, which he finds a little concerning. After all, they don't yet know how many of these things he can control simultaneously. ]

Doing all right?

[Carlisle's eyes flick up to Qubit, relieved to see him tossing the lock aside. He waits by the building for another moment before closing the gap between them, stepping over a spot of blackened, coagulated blood coating the sand.]

As all right as one can be when utterly disgusted. I thought briefly that this one would reach you.

[He looks down at the pair near the trailer doors, both bodies mutilated when they tore into one another. He lifts his foot to stomp one of the writhing corpses, to death, only to hesitate, then put his foot back down. Nope, can't bring himself to do that again. He'll deal with them the traditional way when he's not trying to wrangle as many of the undead as possible. The rest of the mob meanders toward him, several of them covered in the entrails of the one they swarmed; Carlisle's posture tenses as he steps back toward them.]

No no no, you lot wait over there. Away. I don't need you all here.

[They don't budge, all still staring blankly in his general direction. Carlisle glances over his shoulder toward Qubit, indecision in his eyes. He knows how to directly command them, clearly -- the question is if he should, given what happened last time.

He tries to focus his influence on the undead this time.]

Back away, and stay there.

[And with that, the undead do as told, their bodies slow to turn as they shuffle back toward the entrance to the Whole Foods. He looks back to Qubit, his immediate question clear in the look he gives his companion: Well?]

[ Hm... so they don't always respond to verbal commands alone. Qubit makes a note of that. The one with real force behind it still hits him, but a little less strongly this time. Because he's prepared for it, or because Carlisle's trying to exclude him? Most likely a little of both, he thinks.

He can read the question in Carlisle's gaze, and answers with an expression that's not precisely displeased. ]

Better, I think. We can work on it.

[ Anyway, let's open this bad boy up! Qubit turns the handle and pulls the double doors open. And our reward for all this trouble is....?

Beer.

Pallets and pallets of beer. (And some suspicious unlabeled crates, and a few skeletons, but mostly beer.) His shoulders slump in disbelief. ]

Are you kidding me?!

[Though grateful Qubit doesn't seem to judge him too harshly (he's doing that plenty for himself as he crosses his arms, fiddling with a wrinkle in his rad suit), Carlisle is less appreciative of the fruits of their labor. His glowing eyes scan the pallets, reading the cans.]

Beer. All this for beer.

[His gaze moves over to the skeletons.]

And more dead. It's as though these have been trapped for far longer than this vehicle has been here.

[ Yup... all this for beer. And it's not even good beer, come on. ]

Most likely. [ Qubit pulls himself up into the trailer for a closer look. ] It takes about a year to get to this level of decomp... probably longer, in a sealed environment.

[ He eyes the skeletons a little more intently. Hang on... he'd thought the driver's skeleton was inert, too, but then it started following Carlisle around like the others, didn't it? He was too preoccupied to really notice it at the time, but... ]

These fellows aren't going to get up, are they?

Edited 2019-10-01 02:25 (UTC)

Why would they? They're not undead.

[Not yet, anyway. He looks back toward the entourage (still 14ish), his eyes trailing to the cap-wearing, half-animated skeleton clawing its way through the sand, trying to reach the rest of them.

S i g h.]

... Okay, they might. It's not my fault, though. Whatever initially animated the rest of these foul corpses must be raising them, too.

[surejan.gif]

Edited 2019-10-01 02:34 (UTC)

[ Now who said it was your fault, Carlisle? Actually, Qubit might not have thought to suspect that just yet if he hadn't denied it.

And that makes him curious. ]

Okay. But to confirm - at this moment, you're completely certain they're not undead.

Right. Well—

[He closes his eyes a moment, shutting out the wind, truck, and the terrifyingly open sky above him. His ability to sense the undead is not as precise as he'd like, but he does his best to feel around, magically speaking. The coalition are obvious, the strongest source nearby; there are others within building, shambling between the shelves. He focuses ahead of him, into the trailer.]

Yes, I'm certain. Not undeads.

[ Qubit nods. All right - so if they do get up, it's because something (or someone) is raising them from scratch. Good to know.

His next stop is one of the suspicious unlabeled crates. It's not locked or anything, so he lifts the lid. The contents aren't visible from where Carlisle is, but Qubit doesn't seem pleased with what he finds. Wrinkling his nose, he none too gently lets the lid fall closed again.

Then he turns to Carlisle with an exaggerated grin, spreading his arms wide. ]

Correction: Beer and guns! Lady Liberty sends her blessings.

[Carlisle grimaces, uncertain of how to read Qubit's discoveries until the man turns back to him. Even then, he has his doubts that there's anything worth all this trouble in that truck. He has half a mind to ask if Lady Liberty is a deity, but given how Qubit has reacted to talk of gods and goddesses thus far, he assumes not.]

Fantastic. We did all this so we could get drunk and shoot one another. I suppose others would be happy with such treasures.

[Ignore that quiet clack from the back of the trailer, Qubit. The skeletons are just as annoyed with the situation as Carlisle is, though their displeasure is expressed with a few jittering fingerbones rather than the exasperated sigh the clergyman lets out.]

[ Qubit doesn't hear the clacking just yet, not over the alarms this find has set off in his head. He folds his arms, the fake grin changing back to a scowl. ]

... In fairness, they're bound to come in handy on a planet like this. But what do we do with them in the meantime? They're military-style weapons, they can fire close to ninety rounds a minute. It'd be irresponsible to just... release them into the general population.

I believe leaving them here for said general population to find would be equally irresponsible. We cannot be the only ones interested in seeing what these vehicles contain.

[He crosses his arms, thinking.]

I suppose we could take them with us and store them somewhere. Give them to people we know would not use them unwisely, should you know anyone like that.

[ Right. So they're agreed that something should be done. They should be secured, access should be controlled. The logic's sound, but how to implement it? ]

There is an armory, but it's still sealed off. And somehow, I feel as if cracking that particular nut would cause more problems than it solves.

[ So what other place would be secure enough? Would they be able to get the crates there and avoid being noticed? Should they avoid being noticed? ]

As for who could use them, I can think of a few, but it's not as if I'm familiar with everyone on the station. And we can't exactly run background checks.

[Yeah, opening an armory and releasing even more weapons sounds like a bad time all around, especially when they don't know who would be using them. Carlisle turns a circle, pacing to jog his brain, his eyes landing on his little brigade of minions (15 and half a skeleton).]

What if we hid them out here? Come back for them once we know where, in Anchor, we can store them? You're good with —[he makes a vague gesture with one hand]— technology. Surely you can come up with some way to seal off a room from prying eyes.

[ Hiding them outside Anchor...? Hmm. Carlisle might be on to something there. Even if a Redshift occurs and they vanish, that still solves the "too many guns" part of the problem. Qubit nods. ]

Of course I can. Though once that's done, I'll need to prioritize work on the cargo lift so we can get them downstairs at all... [ That's just him thinking out loud. This would be sooooo much easier if his teleportals worked. ] In the meantime, what do you have in mind for the cache?

There is a lot of empty ground.

[He gestures toward the wasteland, particularly toward a nice outcrop of rocks out there that could act as a marker.]

And we need not dig ourselves.

[With the other hand, he motions toward his entourage (15.5 -- no wait, 16.5 as one of the skeletons inside the trailer clickety-clacks his way toward the exit, only for Carlisle to give him an incredulous look that plainly says YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD).

[ YEAH, UM. Qubit jerks back as one of those definitely not undead skeletons just. casually walks past him! He glances back to the others, then to the first one, then to Carlisle, gesturing ineffectually at each of them in turn. ]

Carlisle! [ EXPLAIN? ]

[Carlisle looks somewhere between frustrated and furious.]

It's not my fault! They were dead! They were dead dead!

[And they are clearly not dead dead anymore, as one of the other ones in the back of the trailer starts attempting to piece itself together. The bones don't reconstruct themselves quite right, the skeleton ending up as a weird amalgamation of bone fragments with just enough legs to crawl its way over the guns. He tries to ensnare them, only to find they already are, the first one making his way over toward him.]

What is wrong with all of you!? Can't you just stay dead for a change? I'm not asking for much! Just for you to stay dead and for me to not have deal with any of this right now!

Edited 2019-10-15 02:16 (UTC)

[ Wow, talk about a shitty skeleton! Whoever's reanimating these guys is terrible at it, am I right?

And now Carlisle is yelling at the mindless shitty skeletons, which is very helpful and doesn't at all make him look like a moron. Qubit rubs his forehead and sighs, mostly irritated now that the surprise has worn off. ]

They're not listening, Carlisle.

I am aware, Mister Qubit.

[And angry. Irritated. The skeletons linger nearby, hanging out with their new master.]

Well? What about the burial plan?

[They're not talking about the skeletons right now.]

Edited 2019-10-15 02:39 (UTC)

[ Qubit holds his arms out in another exaggerated shrug. What do you expect me to say? ]

It's solid, let's do it. And while they're working on that, you and I can work out what reanimated these new ones.

[ You're not getting out of it that easily. ]

[Carlisle grunts, muttering something that is no doubt impolite as he turns to his crew, commanding them to follow him. He doesn't even use any force behind it this time -- as he starts wandering off, his eyes on the ground, they meander after him, shambling through the dust and the sand as the wind pelts their decaying bodies. Once they get closer to the outcrop, Carlisle sets them to digging, hoping he's far enough away that Qubit didn't feel that.

In good news, they're adequate diggers, despite their rotting hands. Maybe it's the dry bones that makes it easier on them, or the fact they're unbothered by the elements. Carlisle heads back toward the truck, leaving them to their work, his brow heavy in thought. The skeletons are still hanging around, the one that's a complete, nonsensical mess only just now making its way out of the trailer.]

I suppose if nothing else, we can bury them with the weapons. That would rid us of two problems with a single solution.

[He still doesn't want to talk about this. They don't need to talk about what reanimated them when they both know good and well who is doing it.]

Edited 2019-10-15 04:05 (UTC)

[ All right, we're doing it, then. While Carlisle's off putting his "people" to work, Qubit starts prepping the weapons to be hauled off. He also spares a glance at the beer, which ~~contrary to what I said in the brackets earlier~~ is actually very good beer. Not his favorite, because he's an unapologetic beer snob, but ... maybe he'll take one or two back with him anyway. You know, for science.

He meets Carlisle at the door alongside Ol' Shittybones there, leaning with his arm against the doorframe. ]

No, that just foists the problem onto whoever digs them up. If you want to make more work for yourself, though, be my guest.

[ To be completely fair, he doesn't know for sure that it's Carlisle who raised them. As established previously, he's hardly an expert on how these things work. But Carlisle, who is an expert, sure as hell seems to know what's up, so. ]

Was it you? I'm not upset, but I do need to know.

[Carlisle's eyes affix themselves on the ground, his expression hardening.]

It has to be. They were ensnared before I even realized they were animated.

[He sighs in frustration as Ol' Shittybones looks up at him; the broken femur the skeleton is using as a neck doesn't seem to hinder him much. Maybe it's because it's magic keeping the skeleton together rather than tissues and muscles.]

You cannot sense it, but I can. What energy keeps these bones connected and moving -- it's mine.

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