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redmarsshit2019-11-21 09:50 pm
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Entry tags:
test drive meme: november 2019

Redshift: Welcome to the v͖͕̺̲̘̱̜͎o̴̦̣̠̦̘̹͞i̯̖d̛̪̬͈̱̦̝͍̕.
▶ Click here to read what characters will experience when arriving in Anchor.
▶ All TDM threads can be considered game canon, and current players are welcome to either top-level on the TDM so prospective players can tag them, or use the prompts for logs or network posts on the communities. All threads on the TDM can be used for Activity Check.
▶ All TDM threads can be considered game canon, and current players are welcome to either top-level on the TDM so prospective players can tag them, or use the prompts for logs or network posts on the communities. All threads on the TDM can be used for Activity Check.
a. the truth hurts.
As though everything happening in the past month wasn't enough, there's been a minor explosion in one of the labs. No one hurt, if you don't count the hapless maintenance bot that caused the explosion in the first place.
But there are gases drifting through the laboratories, some of them making their way into the air vents, invisible to the purifiers in the system thanks to the explosion. And those gases are leaking into the air around Anchor, little pockets of danger waiting to be breathed in.
Those who breathe the gasses in might be the unluckiest Anchorites of all.
They're stuck telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth for the next five hours, give or take. Good luck with that!
But there are gases drifting through the laboratories, some of them making their way into the air vents, invisible to the purifiers in the system thanks to the explosion. And those gases are leaking into the air around Anchor, little pockets of danger waiting to be breathed in.
Those who breathe the gasses in might be the unluckiest Anchorites of all.
They're stuck telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth for the next five hours, give or take. Good luck with that!
b. retromedia.
Oblivious to what's going on inside Anchor, the shift rages outside, bringing shadows of things and places from other worlds, those things flickering into existence and out of it again.
The bad news is that the Whole Foods is gone.
The good news is the shift left something behind in its place.
A long, squat building, with cement walls painted over with stucco and punctuated by big windows. A flat roof with slanted sides, painted a deep blue. In bold yellow letters bolted to the roof, a sign:
BLOCKBUSTER
The sliding doors are broken, bouncing open and shut steadily, but the inside is clean and well-stocked with rack upon rack upon row upon row of VHS tapes, all of them neatly packaged in plastic boxes. Some of them have the movie covers on them, but most bear the Blockbuster logo and tiny labels running down the back, declaring the box's contents. There's a giant, somewhat busted up standee of Tim Allen as The Santa Clause, flickering holiday lights strung unevenly from the ceiling, and symbols of various seasonal holidays stuck up along the walls and windows.
Any movie you could possibly want lies within, or at least any movie you could possibly want that was released on Earth during or before 1994. And don’t worry if you can't find a VHS player in Anchor! There are whole shelves of VCRs tucked into one of the closets, apparently part of an aborted plan to rent out VCRs along with movies.
Poor Blockbuster. They were innovators. And now they're lost to the sands of the red shift.
The bad news is that the Whole Foods is gone.
The good news is the shift left something behind in its place.
A long, squat building, with cement walls painted over with stucco and punctuated by big windows. A flat roof with slanted sides, painted a deep blue. In bold yellow letters bolted to the roof, a sign:
The sliding doors are broken, bouncing open and shut steadily, but the inside is clean and well-stocked with rack upon rack upon row upon row of VHS tapes, all of them neatly packaged in plastic boxes. Some of them have the movie covers on them, but most bear the Blockbuster logo and tiny labels running down the back, declaring the box's contents. There's a giant, somewhat busted up standee of Tim Allen as The Santa Clause, flickering holiday lights strung unevenly from the ceiling, and symbols of various seasonal holidays stuck up along the walls and windows.
Any movie you could possibly want lies within, or at least any movie you could possibly want that was released on Earth during or before 1994. And don’t worry if you can't find a VHS player in Anchor! There are whole shelves of VCRs tucked into one of the closets, apparently part of an aborted plan to rent out VCRs along with movies.
Poor Blockbuster. They were innovators. And now they're lost to the sands of the red shift.
c. sweet sweet self-care.
While sickness persists inside Anchor's walls, those in recovery seem to be getting better every day. And while the health bots have been working overtime, some of their processes have gotten a little borked up from all the work they've been doing.
Along with medical care, they're now administering lectures to their captive audiences about the value of diet and exercise, the importance of personal hygiene, and the healing properties of massage. Some of them are forcing massages on people just to prove their point, which, y'know, could be a lot worse. At least they're good at massages?
The spa bots are getting in on the action, nagging the healthy to come for relaxation and decontamination in one gloriously bubbly swoop. They've converted several of their spa pools into sweet-smelling antibacterial baths, so you can make extra-sure you got those visiting-a-sick-friend cooties off!
No, seriously, go with them. Before they drag you there and make you take a bath like an unruly two-year-old.
Believe them, it's worth it. If you complete a circuit of the spa, including the antibacterial baths and the fresh and zesty decontamination shower, you get a shiny sparkly holographic sticker that says "YOU ARE FREE OF DISEASE" in little cheerful bubble-letters. They designed them all by themselves, totally from scratch. Are you proud?
Along with medical care, they're now administering lectures to their captive audiences about the value of diet and exercise, the importance of personal hygiene, and the healing properties of massage. Some of them are forcing massages on people just to prove their point, which, y'know, could be a lot worse. At least they're good at massages?
The spa bots are getting in on the action, nagging the healthy to come for relaxation and decontamination in one gloriously bubbly swoop. They've converted several of their spa pools into sweet-smelling antibacterial baths, so you can make extra-sure you got those visiting-a-sick-friend cooties off!
No, seriously, go with them. Before they drag you there and make you take a bath like an unruly two-year-old.
Believe them, it's worth it. If you complete a circuit of the spa, including the antibacterial baths and the fresh and zesty decontamination shower, you get a shiny sparkly holographic sticker that says "YOU ARE FREE OF DISEASE" in little cheerful bubble-letters. They designed them all by themselves, totally from scratch. Are you proud?
d. the network.
Need to get hold of someone, call for help, ask the city at large a question? Need to ask a friend which 1980s teen movie classic to watch at movie night? Maybe you need to hold your sat phone up to whatever crazy thing you're seeing and send out a recording to double-check if your eyes are deceiving you and what you're looking at is real?
Whatever the reason, the network is going strong, so feel free to include a post to it in your top-levels.
Whatever the reason, the network is going strong, so feel free to include a post to it in your top-levels.
QUESTIONS
Scott Summers (Time Displaced) \ X-Men Comics
Scott Summers is not an average teen boy. This is immediately apparent from his X-Men uniform, which can clearly not be anything but a superhero uniform, and the gold and red visor firmly pushed over his eyes. He also has a brown leather jacket which is far too broad in the shoulders and far too short in the sleeves for him (though these two factors balance it out to let it fit fairly well on his skinny frame). He also, when first enters Anchor, has a bag with him, a duffle with random items he had collected from his safe deposit box (technically his, just not yet).
His projected body language says confidence. His actual body language screams 'scared teenager'.
A: The Truth Hurts
For a terrible liar, Scott spends a lot of time not telling people the truth. He mostly does this by just not answering questions, or not talking to people much, not about things that matter. He's an emotionally repressed little thing who prefers to talk practical things, like survival training or how to kick a super tough mutant off a building and get away before he comes to pull your head off.
He's on his way to the kitchen for something to eat and then the library to read when he smells the odd scent. He doesn't hear any alarms, or see klaxons, so he's going to choose to assume that there's nothing to worry about.
B: Retromedia and C: sweet sweet self-care
[OOC: Are welcome. Please write your own starter for it though.]
00
Maybe it was the visor. ]
Hey, kid. No one gave ya a mask?
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a
"Did you know that frogs absorb water through their skin?"
That's a perfectly good greeting, right?
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A
"Oh, hey," she hails the young man who walks in without looking up from the pan, giving it a little shake to dislodge the currently frying pancake from the pan. Anything strange she might have been able to smell is entirely obscured by the scent of cooking pancake batter.
"You want some of these? I already know I'm gonna make way too many."
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A
Then he smells that smell, lifting his head, freckled nose wrinkling. He thinks something might be wrong with the tea... but then it goes away again. Before he has a chance to investigate further, a young man he doesn't recognize is walking in.
And Reynir just... opens his mouth.
"Hello! Your glasses are weird."
Off to a great start.
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"Oh sh-- sorry, man. My spatial awareness is like nonexistent right now."
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arya stark | a song of ice and fire | clockbox crau
[ before she came here, a girl woke up from a dream.
it was a long one, and vivid. in the dream, she was living in a giant, infinite clock, full of many wondrous rooms and even better people. she reunited with her family, with her name. she had made new friends, learned about selfies and science and planet earth. she learned to laugh again, and she thought that things might stay that way forever.
she only knew it was a dream when she walked through one last door, and woke up. it couldn’t have been real, no matter how badly she wanted it to be. so the girl became an acolyte of the many-faced god, receiving robes of black and white, trying her best to forget about that better world.
many moons later, a girl has another dream. this time, she’s in a room watching a movie, about portals and science and a place called “anchor.” she doesn’t pay much attention to the contents of the introductory video at all, because what’s important to her is that she’s seeing a movie, which means she isn’t in braavos or westeros. she’s in a dreaming-place. a better place.
arya stark grins.
for the next several hours, arya will be exploring anchor, searching for jon and sansa, hoping that they’ve arrived here too. you can find her in the garage, curiously examining the space jeeps; in the lab, taking a moment to watch the fish; and in the library, climbing all over the rubble, looking for anything noteworthy.
arya doesn’t know she’s inhaled the truth gas, which is going to make any first meeting a little more…interesting. ]
blockbuster.
[ arya doesn’t know what the hell a “blockbuster” is — maybe some kind of training location? to break down blocks? she’s an explorer by nature though, so of course she’s going to check it out! she’s surprised to find rows and rows of little cases. arya paces the shelves until she finds a name she recognizes: miami vice. she pulls the case off the shelf, and stares at the cover for a little while. she thinks she knows what this is — it’s a movie! but she can’t remember how to play it. so she walks up to the nearest person, holding out the tape. ]
Do you know how to use this?
[ once she’s learned how to use the vhs player, you can find a small child, wearing hooded robes that are black on one side, white on the other, watching a variety of earth film classics, including miami vice, a league of their own, and the princess bride. time to get cultured! ]
Blockbuster
I think I can figure it out? It needs to go in the player, and the player needs to hook up to the tv.
[He once managed to get an original Famicom system working on a holocube so he can work out this mess of AV cables and plugs and a remote with actual tactile buttons. This is all kind of quaint and exciting. The tech version of the Renaissance Faire.]
What would you like to watch?
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a frosty little bird tells me these two have met before *^*
omg hello!! yes they did :D
i am already delighted
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Starscream | Transformers Prime
[ Unlike the standard arrival to Anchor, Starscream shows up outside the colony on the planet's surface. The last thing he remembered was being at Darkmount on Cybertron, being cornered by the Predacons. Where was he now? For that matter, what star system was this? He didn't recognize his surroundings and his sensors weren't providing anything relevant. Spying the domed colony, it took some scouting before he located what appeared to be a vehicle bay, large enough for him to duck into. But when he tries to progress past the hangar, warning sounds blip at him and a mechanized voice announces:
"ERROR. CONTAMINATION DETECTED. PROCEED TO DECONTAMINATION SHOWER."
Which repeats every time he tries to bypass the exit protocols. Finally, amid threats of dismantlement to whomever constructed this obviously flawed system and a few muttered Vosian turns of phrase not meant for polite company, Starscream crams himself awkwardly under the solvent jets of the decontamination room. Designed for vehicles on a more or less horizontal axis, they are definitely not meant for someone his size, and he's pulling some serious contortion until the spray finally quits, the system having deigned him clean of radiation particulates. Flicking his wings back and forth to disperse the last droplets, he leaves the vehicle bay and accosts the first person unlucky enough to be spotted. ]
You there! I demand to know what is going on here! What is this place?
Causeways - exploring;
[ It doesn't take long for Starscream to ascertain that this place was built by a human (or human-adjacent) population based on the diminutive scale everything's constructed on. The causeways are really the only areas that are built generously enough for him to walk around freely on - almost all of the actual building units branching off the breezeway are not large enough to accommodate him.
That doesn't mean he isn't interested in what's inside of them, and he keeps leaning down to look through the doorways, meaning that someone is liable to suddenly find themselves nearly walking into a giant mechanical face. ]
---
[OOC: Starscream's method of arrival via the Garage/Vehicle area due to his height (25') is mod-approved. Because of this, he has not had the usual "Welcome to Anchor" video message at this time. Someone please fill him in! ]
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It's called Anchor.
[There's gotta be weapons on this right? Somewhere? This is literally the coolest, and most lucrative, thing he's come across in a while.]
How the fuck did you even get in here?
I LAUGHED
I aim to please
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arrival
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c. sweet sweet self-care
Today, he finds that the machines that look after the spa are back on duty, which means the floor isn't a swamp today. Today, the place is sparkling clean, and he heads for the area Cho said reminds her of home. It's going to be good to swim. He needs it, needs to connect with water again, even if it's not a lake or the ocean.
It doesn't take long for him to notice one of the machines is following him.
"Hey. Go. I don't need you."
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There's no defeat in Shepard's voice. Nope, not a single note of it. There might be some resignation, but she's tired, okay. She's been run off her feet for nearly two months at this point. She can admit to being tired, and choosing her battles.
She has her own bot following her. That could maybe explain things.
"Has yours said anything?"
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Deethra | The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance
[Gelflings are already tiny, fragile-looking creatures even when observed on their homeworld of Thra. In a place as technologically advanced and sterile as the city of Anchor, not only is Deethra painfully out of place, but she's also painfully aware of it. Her footfalls are quiet and unsteady as she wanders through the hallways and her head swivels around as she takes in as many sights as she can.]
[Although she'd grown accustomed to the bright sunlight of the surface, here, these strange caves somehow manage to be even brighter. The strange glowing lights, although bearing a vague familiarity of the bioluminescent moss in the Caves of Grot, shed an aura that still manages to feel so cold.]
[It's an apt description of this entire place... cold.]
[But Deethra doesn't have time to dwell on the strange metal walls or the unnaturally smooth architecture. She needs to get home! Her friends are waiting for her!]
[She comes to a stop at the edge of her level and climbs atop the small wall. The large cavern in the middle of the city hits her with that same familiar-but-not feeling as the walls--but there's more she can do with this, at least. Opening her large gossamer wings, Deethra throws herself from the edge and flutters along the walls, searching for a friendly face.]
[And she finds one! Your character!]
O-Oh! Wait!
[Deethra hurries over to wherever they happen to be standing and gently lands on the floor in front of them, craning her neck so she can speak to them.]
Hello! I'm sorry to bother you, but there seems to have been a mistake! I don't think I belong here, and I really need to get back home, do you think you could help me?
[A pause.]
My name's Deet, by the way!
i'm canon blind but let's DO THIS
It's early enough in the morning that Reynir, too, is rather sleepy, giving a huge yawn and stretching his arms over his head. But the moment he sees some kind of unknown creature flying towards him, that sleepiness is gone, replaced by wide-eyed surprise. A little apprehension, too, but even as Deethra lands and approaches him, Kisa is silent and calm. Reynir blinks down at the person, too stunned to really register what she's saying for a moment. ]
Oh! It's not a bother. Did you just arrive here? I'm... not really sure I'm the best person to help, but I can try.
YES! That's the spirit!
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i hope you like stupid
i love stupid
good because that's all i'm good at
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i too am canon blind but WEE FAIRY PERSON
YES!!! Also sorry for the wait!
no worries! tis the season...
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ben hargreeves | the umbrella academy | in game |
B. RETROMEDIA [established CR only please]
E. WILDCARD
Truth Hurts
Naturally he's going to hang with his bud at lunch, grabbing a seat across from Ben at the table.]
Hey, man. How's it going?
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B
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why men great till they gotta be great (truth hurts!)
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Truth Hurts
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truth hurts
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B
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A
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reynir árnason | stand still. stay silent. | in game
C. SELF-CARE
D. THE NETWORK
a.
[So she's not used to the amount of over sharing there is when she made the poor decision to arrange setting the kitties up to meet one another. It's been... something. Neither cats seem to have interacted with any of their kind before, so Tripod clings to Rey even when she tries to prompt him to hang out with the other kitty. He cries and whines when she tries to pry him off her pant leg.
[Eventually, she just huffs.]
This is probably more for me than him. Haven't really talked to anyone in a few days.
[Did she mean to say that? Shit, no, that's not what she wanted to say... But now that she said it, she can't remember what it was she was going to say first. Goddammit.]
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D
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@mercy;
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d.
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D.
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A
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a, let's do this
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Genji Shimada | Overwatch | In Game
Genji is from 2070+ and has only a vague idea of what a VCR is, the way that most people know what a phonograph is. He's never actually seen one, but if he can hook up original Famicon devices to holocubes he can work some AV wires and component cabling.
With a VCR in his arms and a few movies (all cartoons) stacked up on top he's heading back inside to figure this out, but not to his bedroom, he's going to set this up in one of the common rooms so anyone can join him. Movie nights are better with other people, and he hasn't just sat with anyone else in over a decade.
Time to pretend he's a totally normal guy who just happens to be wearing an entire suit of armor. At least he turned all the lights off so he's not distracting.
He can be found setting up and cursing in Japanese at all the cables and wires required to do this. Or chillaxing on the couch watching Transformers, Rats of NIMH, or The Last Unicorn.
2. Self Care
As a ninja, Genji has killed hundreds of people. He murdered his entire clan (minus Hanzo) after what happened to him. He has no qualms about violence, and he's very much the silent, stoic, killer to be expected of someone raised in what's basically the Yakuza.
However.
Genji is also secretly twelve years old and no amount of training, being nearly murdered, or a life of agony is going to squash down his desire for stupid shiny things.
There is a sticker.
He will be obtaining said sticker.
It's not entirely a pleasant experience because while his armor is so shiny he might blind people in full sunlight, he didn't take it off in all the showers or baths and it's not waterproof. Water resistant sure, but he is basically a soggy mess right now with water pooling in places that he really wished it wouldn't. But! That is far from the point. He has his sticker.
He's currently putting it on the sheath for his wakizashi making sure it's perfectly aligned and flat. Right next to the little Pachimari charm dangling from the handle.
Wildcard
Come at him!
Self care
But he doesn't, so his sticker is useless to him.
"Want a matching sticker for your big sword? I don't really have anywhere to put this."
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Kal'Reegar | Mass Effect
b. sweet sweet self-care.
c. the network.
C.
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b!
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C
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B
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allison hargreeves | the umbrella academy | in-game
[ allison has been in anchor for about a month now and after some initial hiccups, she's started to finally make a routine for herself, to establish as much regularity and control as she can in this mystery location. she tends to hit the gym in the mornings, followed by showers and a quick meal.
today at the gym though, she notices that there's a bit of a strange...odor? allison figures it was maybe someone else's sweat and simply continues about her day, unaware that she'll be telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth for the next several hours.
you can find her working at the garden, combing through the library and later blockbuster to find her brother a magazine to read, and in the mess hall, trying to prepare herself some passable eggs and coffee. if you ever wanted to learn anything about this ex-movie star's life, have at it! it's better than tmz. ]
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Holy shit, there's a Terminator 2?
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Jonathan Pine | The Night Manager
[ He doesn't remember his arrival. For him, arrival meant being taken straight to the medbay and treated for internal injuries. For him, it meant being unconscious for the better part of a week.
When he wakes up, Jonathan feels almost normal, except for the heavy bruise around one eye and some aching ribs. He eases upright in unfamiliar surroundings, watching the medbay's robots with the wariness of someone who isn't sure he's entirely sane, just now.
The introduction video, which one of the bots shows him, clears things up a little. Only a little. But he has two choices: curl up in a ball and wait for this hallucination to pass, or treat this impossibility as real and investigate his surroundings.
He's never been the type for inaction.
He can be found carefully examining the bullet holes and burn marks that dot Anchor, investigating the library, or, y'know. Walking through a cloud of that truth gas and having a small coughing fit.
Which hurts his ribs.
Ow. ]
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she's lost in thought, wondering where alan's gone, if she's dead or alive, when the man's coughing fit snaps her to attention. yikes, that sounds nasty. ]
Hey, man. You good?
[ she starts walking towards him, slightly concerned. ordinarily, she wouldn't care -- someone else's health is their own business -- but this could be another messed-up cosmic test of her own morality or whatever, and nadia isn't about to screw this one up, too. ]
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Mick Rory/Heat Wave/Chronos || Legends of Tomorrow
[ Chronos is fully kitted out when he leaves the decontamination rooms. He moves with the slow confidence of a tank rolling onto a battlefield. The mask doesn't give any indication of its wearer's mood, but the way he cradles his gun comfortably, relaxed, makes it pretty clear that he's not new to strangeness of this kind.
That doesn't mean he's not on alert. Whether it's in the garage or the library or somewhere else entirely, the moment he hears movement, he levels on the target with his rifle. ]
BAR
[ The first thing Chronos does is peel off his helmet, setting it on the bar counter and revealing a broad-faced man with a shaved head. He studies the room with a mix of calculation and disinterest. He's not supposed to be hunting anyone here. These people aren't his purpose.
Right now his purpose is some hard liquor. The robot behind the bar serves up a tequila sunrise and Chronos knocks it back and slaps the glass back down on the bar. In a deep growl: ]
Whiskey. [ The bot goes about preparing another tequila sunrise. Chronos leans across the bar, seizing the thing's "shoulder" and giving it a shake that indicates worse to come. ] I said whiskey. Vodka in a pinch. You hear me this time?
[ The bot continues to work on the tequila sunrise. Chronos bares his teeth and yanks the bot forward, slamming it into the bar and knocking over the drink it was working on.] I hate stupid robots. [ Another yank, slamming the bot into the bar again. ] Don't even know when they're being hurt.
SPA
It's more curiosity than the insistence of annoying robots that gets him to go to the spa. He doesn't let the bots undress him--breaks one when it tries--electing to keep his armor close at hand when he strips down to his boxers.
Once he's in the water, it's all right. The heat eases some of the constant ache of his body, loosens the pull of scar tissue as he sinks in up to his neck. The splashes of scarring on his side and legs are clearly visible still, as is the spiderweb left on his arms by third degree burns. He gives a low rumble that's almost like a purr, closing his eyes. This spa shit isn't so bad.]
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Not to mention it's more or less impossible to pick-pocket without pockets of your own. A guy would have to get real creative with his hiding places.
Record scratch. Freeze frame. Now you're probably wondering how he ended up in a terry-cloth bathrobe with his gun in one deep pocket, and a pair of flip-flops in the other. Sitting at the edge of an artificial hot-spring, feet dangling in the heat while he sucks down sparkling water cold enough to hurt teeth from a straw.
The answer is somewhere between too many tequila sunrises, auto-defrosting bots, and a detrimental lack of fucks. It's been a long day. A long week. A long lifetime. He's eaten a lot of shit for just about everything since agreeing to Rip's timey-wimey bullshit, and now he's here. On budget Tatooine with a bunch of yahoo's. Away from everyone and everything he ate that shit for.
As soon as Leonard's finished his water (it's important to hydrate), he's hitting up the closest bot for a vodka on ice, which will 100% be another tequila sunrise, and bouncing.
Until he lifts his head from his device, wading through the slurry of alien Anchor-book posts for anything resembling valuable information, and sees him.
Mick.
Then he sees the armor. Almost drops his bottle.
Leonard thought he'd be dodging Karens, Deborahs, Stacies, and Chads at the spa. Not Chronos.]
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Mick Rory/Heat Wave/Chronos -- Belated Network Prompt
Ral Zarek | Magic: The Gathering
For a Planeswalker, appearing suddenly in another plane of existence is nothing new. It happens when that spark inside them ignites for the first time -- usually at a time of great physical or emotional distress, as a self-defense mechanism.
But he doesn't remember opting to Planeswalk here. And he's been in control of his little secret for a number of years, now. More distressing is the fact that trying to return to Ravnica fails, and it's then that the first seeds of something like panic start to sow themselves in his mind.
No point in that right now. Time to investigate and see what's going on...and hopefully, what's keeping him here.
So one might see a strange young man with frizzled, silver-streaked hair poking and proding at various bits of the complex. He's got his own gear on him, including a bulking gauntlet over one arm and several metallic tubs feeding back into a strange glass canister on his back that sparks and crackles with energy. Every now and then he frowns and attempts to tinker with something, checking to see if panels pull back, that sort of thing.
He's also lingering just under the vents, by coincidence, so questions might result in a more forthright answer than usual.
----
Sweet, Sweet Self-Care
Who has two thumbs and is deeply enjoying the opportunity to relax in a semi-luxurious bath? This mage.
Constantly dealing with guild business back on Ravnica means that opportunities to take it easy and relax are few and far between. Between one of his goblin lab assistants blowing a hole in a wall while testing a new method of long-distance travel, or the dragon Niv-Mizzet uttering his commands on pain of being devoured from his lofty aerie in Nivix, or his own secret plots and schemes that had to kept under wraps from literally everyone else? There aren't enough hours in the day to just stop. Talk a breath. Smell the rose-scented water.
And there's a visible grin and an audible hum as he settles into the water, brushing damp fingers back through his streaked hair. The dragon tattoo around his arm -- visible on a normal day with his robe sleeves rolled up -- winds upwards to his shoulder, before the pattern snakes back down along his hip, and disappears beneath the water's surface.
Is he particularly worried about sharing the water with someone else, or feeling in any way shy? Not at all. He fully intends to soak as long as humanly possibly, thank you. You want your turn? Better get friendly, because Ral's not going anywhere.
Self Care
Kabal has already had himself a nice soak and some 'me time', but its nice and warm in there, and it smells nice so...
Fully clothed in his full mask, duster jacket, pants and boots, but no shirt, he's in one of the alcoves off the main room. shnnnk What better way to unwind than sharpening his swords. shnnnk Gotta make sure they're at peak performance and all. shnnnk
He's very diligent about this one thing, and this one thing only.
shnnnk
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Arrival/Truth Hurts
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arrival / truth
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Jacob Frye - AC Syndicate - CRAU
"Where the bloody hell am I now?"
He looks around, up at the screen and he has no clue what it is, until suddenly, he does. Memories flood back into his head, or suddenly push themselves back into the forefront of his mind. A City of steel and glass, electricity and light, smog and cars and drugs and danger and death. A City of Magistrates and aliens and God only knows what. He reaches forward, catching himself on the control panels in front of him.
Charles. Connor. Angel. Devi. Edward. Erik.
He can see them, as clearly as he had just seen Evie and Henry, in his mind's eye. It's like he left them this morning, but it... it's been weeks. Months.
He curses, his fist hits the instrument panel hard enough to break some of the faded buttons, grey dust staining the leather of the gauntlet as well as his skin. Do they remember him? Did they all end up pulled from the damn place at the same time he did? Are they here? Oh god he hopes they're here.
Where the bloody hell is here?
He looks up at the video- then at the room- and sneers. He don't actually know what the guy is talking about, but perhaps that doesn't matter. There are doors opening, and heading out is the only way he's going to get answers.
Unfortunately, he can't just charge off into whatever this place is, some sort of knock-off Kew Gardens. There's decontamination to go through first, and as much as he fights it, the bots become more insistent he removes his clothes. He is not in the mood, but there seems no other way of getting out until he submits.
It's not a quick nor easy process. He remembers clothes from the City, easy to take off, thin, disposable. Pulling them off was no difficulty. But his Victorian garb? That's harder. The boots go first, then the hat, the coat, the gauntlet on his left wrist, the many belts, the waistcoat, the cravat, the shirt, the undershirt, the trousers, socks and the underwear.
And what he's given in return would shock a working girl in the docks. But he hasn't got any choice and so snatches them up, pulls them on and gets in the water, moving to submerge himself. The plan is to quickly rinse then climb out and pull everything back on again but-
"Oi, you!" He shouts, as the bots take his belongings away. He's half out of the water when he realises, suddenly, that he isn't alone.
NETWORK
[ He doesn't know if this will work. He doesn't hold out much hope. But he's got to try. He has got to do something. He doesn't want to give much away, he doesn't want to tell a sob story to whatever weird place this is, and so he doesn't introduce himself. Nor does he broadcast an audio message, knowing his accent will probably give him away. ]
If any of you remember, or have heard of a place called City of Sin, or know either Charles Smith, Angel or Rat- Ratonhat- Connor... I'll buy you a drink.
Assuming this place has beer.
If anyone can tell me where I can get a beer, I'll buy you one too.
self-care
The figure on the other end of the pool opens one eye as Jacob lunges out towards the robots, before allowing said eye to shut again. "Your things will be returned to you. Calm yourself," he utters, before resettling himself. Both arms rest against the pool's edge, one of which is lushly illustrated with ink, depicting an eastern dragon. Long dark hair, with gray streaks along the temples, hangs to his shoulders.
Clearly not a young man, and already somewhat irritable with the sudden noise interrupting what is meant to be a relaxing bath.
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Network - UN: lonewolf
UN: Rook
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enforced self-care
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Network
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angel the siren | borderlands | ota. (ryslig, Cos au)
Angel wakes up to a different roof, and all she thinks, fairly simply, is: oh no, not again.
But there isn't any time to wallow, now or ever. So she pulls herself up on her hooves, she flicks out her mane down her back, and she gets to trying to work out where she has ended up this time.
She's not exactly discreet to catch sight off, which is a hope in and of itself, if the others are here, they'll hear about it. Though she's not very tall, all told, the three feet of huge, powerful white horns that jut out of her forehead certainly make up for it, and her tail is a never still thing. It whips around her ankles in her absent anxiousness. Where are they? Where is he? He has to be here somewhere?
Her clothes only cover her just enough, leave - well nothing to the imagination, if that imagination included full body blue tattoos and more fur.
And where she stops someone, her eyes are black. All of it. There are no whites to her eyes, no coloured iris, just black, and black, and black. "Hello, I'm sorry to bother you. I'm looking for someone? His name is Connor. He's tall. Has a smile that stops my heart?" she chokes, trying to make it stop. "I mean, he matters to me. He's very tall, has an axe, and a bow, and a white and blue coat with lots of pockets? He might be with some other people? Charles Smith and Jacob Frye?"
She can't stop herself. She's looking for them, which is what leads her in here. But she stops, and looks around.
Oh My God. Oh my God, these are antiques?!
She jumps forward, reaching for the VHS, beginning to look over the covers. "These are real? I thought they were just stories? No one is going to believe it!"
Distracted momentarily, she begins to pour over them. Touching the covers like an archaeologist, almost reverently. This is amazing.
She collects a few. Poking at them. Trying to see if there is a button or something on them that pops up a display. But no, nothing, how does it work then?
Alright, maybe there is something else to it? A player? That's what the adds on the TV show. Right. So she takes an armful of the tapes and bounds off. Trying to figure out how to make them work.
Real tapes! From Earth! Oh if only Tannis could see them!
She absolutely delighted, if she can't find her friends yet, this is a good way to spend the time. The little robots are the cutest thing she's ever seen. She goes everywhere they tell her, chattering to them like they're her friends and as dear to her as any person. She can't connect to them like she did once, but the things she learned would always be with her. Touching them fondly, and every time one of them helps her she says thank you, and spares a kiss on their little heads, just a peck to send them happily chittering off. Unbearably fond of them.
In the baths, she lays around, languidly stretch as only someone whose half an animal, that content purr, could. Stretching out sore muscles from the gang fighting, that despite her slight frame, there is power in each and every limb, a minotaur after all, was nothing to be trifled with. Her tattoos ebbing faintly with her contment, a dull white light. Her tail flicking backwards and forwards like a pleased cat.
Truth Telling
It's hard not to run, to contain himself by just that much as he makes his way closer to her, while the person she's talking to shakes their head and excuses themselves for the moment. How long had it been? Had they both been sent back, and then sent here? He thinks on what waits for Angel back home and...
No. No consideration of that. She's here. She's safe and alive, and that's what matters.
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Blockbuster
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Truth telling
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Ratonhnhaké:ton (Connor) // Assassin's Creed
When Angel had first told Ratonhnhaké:ton about the place that turned her into a Minotaur, he'd been infuriated by the idea that there were other places than the City that pulled in and kept people against their will, that influenced and changed people. The more he'd thought about it, after, the more it made sense. If there was one, why not others?
Would he say he had expected to end up somewhere else himself? No.
Now that he finds himself here, however, he finds himself far from surprised about it. If the video is to be believed, this is also quite different from the City. It was built entirely by people like him? Like Angel, and Jacob, and Charles. So whatever brought them here, it has nothing or no one directly under its command.
From the video, however, he'd expected life. A community, a society. Clearly, there was one once. He can tell as soon as he exits the decontamination.
Now it looks deserted.
Which means, if he happens to spot anyone in the area, he will approach immediately, with long, determined strides.
"Excuse me?"
B. Exploring, the truth hurts
All that is left to do is map out his new home. Clearly, for the time-being, he's stuck here. And so he can be found all over, searching for any establishments that can be accessed, any structure that can be climbed, places that seem like good hiding spots, and any landmarks in case one needs to follow or give directions.
Along the way, he's bound to breathe in some of the truth serum gas. This isn't likely to effect him too much, as he is a quiet honest man, but if anyone thinks the way he carefully studies the architecture is strange, maybe something about his profession of "assassin" will slip.
C. Wildcard
[ Just your usual wildcard. ]
The Truth Hurts
But this place is unlike any of those places.
This place is entirely artificial, not simply nature tamed and pruned and leveled, but utterly unreal in every sense he knows.
He wanders with wide eyes, looking at everything and in complete astonishment. How can such a place exist? He had watched the strange screen and its moving picture, its crisp sound better than any gramophone. But it had left him with more questions than answers.
The first human he sees is a giant of a man, dressed in white and a little ahead of him.
"Hello! Hello there! Excuse me, are you a... a colonist here?"
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Brian "Hoody" Thomas | Marble Hornets | Snowblind & We the Lost CRAU
There's someone in a tan hoodie and a black mask (which a red :( on it) carrying a mailbag wandering the Blockbuster. Somehow he seems both at home and very alien in the place.
Movies were more Tim's thing (well, Jay's thing but they also counted as Tim's thing) than his but he finds himself wandering in it anyway. Its probably because he misses Tim but he'll never really admit that, so instead he just roams the aisles, picking up videos every so often before putting them back in the wrong places. The tapes were familar but too large for his camera.
C
The robots want him to go visit the spa but he is very against this idea. Baths are not a thing he's very familiar with and he's pretty sure there would be a bunch of people (or robots? are these robots people?) watching so that's an even bigger NO.
So he's currently trying to escape the grip of a robot, looking very much like an unruly two year old.
He doesn't speak or make any noise, but there's text floating in the air above his head. It just says
NO
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"Hey. Hey! Put him down."
He grabs one of the robots and yanks him away harshly, a lot stronger than his emaciated form would indicate. The words floating over his head get a weird look but honestly, with all the other stuff he's seen, it's not even in the top ten for strange things here.
"Come on, get off him."
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Doug Eiffel | Wolf 359
That was--
That was an odd smell.
Eiffel fanned at his face, nose wrinkled, and he coughed a bit as he took stock. Okay, it didn't smell like molasses so it wasn't halothane... And he didn't feel anything creeping on him like pain, sickness, or death. So... So he was fine. Right?
Lifting a hand to his mouth, he took a deep breath and coughed an exhale into his palm and then quickly sniffed. Not his proudest moment but... well, it didn't smell acidic...
His shoulders sagged. "I shouldn't be so used to this," he muttered, chin dropped to his chest. "Nobody should be used to this. I think every space station has a Hilbert. Whatever." But then, heaving a sigh, he lifted his head and called out, "Who's spraying the dud knockout gas?!"
B:
"Hell yes! This is the motherlode! Sweet blessed magnetic entertainment that isn't Home Alone 2!" He grabbed a VCR first, and then - "Wait, shit..."
He put the case of the VCR down and then stripped off his coat, starting to do some complex fabric origami. Or maybe he was just tying the bottom of the coat shut, and then tying the arms together. He was going to raid the shit out of this place. And he was going to start with Star Wars. VCR case, jacket full of videos. Doug was practically dancing his way down the Blockbuster aisles. "Best. Stranding. Ever."
C:
He's been on a space station for more time than he cares to think about. He's seen the end of coffee and toothpaste. He's seen the end of hot water and the end of time for showers.
And a massage? Sounds fake but okay.
Still, when he's ushered into the baths and the shower and massage, he lets it happen and-
And yeah, those whoops of joy are totally him. He's clean and he's been massaged and he's even been given clean clothes and he's fed and...
"Okay, that sticker is ironic."
D:
Hello hello not-Hephaestus, this is Comms Officer Dougie Doug coming at you in a brand new form and holy shit this place has massages? Man, did you guys luck out. I'd be jealous but I'm here now and uh
Has anyone seen a woman named Minkowski? Or Lovelace? Or a census unit named Hera?
most importantly Hera
Maybe?