sixthiterationlogs | [Closed] Down the Tubes: Breakdown

The motley collection of people that has assembled for this task is one that Fang can't really fathom, but it's also something she has experienced before. She only really knows one of them, and that only casually, but everyone in the group at least seems intent on getting to the bottom of whatever is going on here. A haunting call, one dead already... the possibility that this is a suicide mission has probably occurred to all of them. Might as well send someone that's already done her fair share of crazy things.

And when they reach the end of the journey, at least some of Fang's concerns prove true, as the pod docks with a hiss, a screech, and finally a series of scraping mechanical chun-CHUNKS that doesn't sound good at all. Jumping out of the machine before the noises die, Fang kneels to inspect the area around the pod, cursing under her breath as she spots a little smoke rising from the track and something that looks like it's been knocked out of alignment. "Anybody in there any good at machines? Looks like this one's broken. Probably hasn't been maintained in awhile by the look of this place." And, at this time, it's the only way they have to leave.

Not much is visible in the immediate area, though the lights being on is an unexpected bonus. The place looks worn and run down, though at the moment there's not much to see: a decently large room, a lot of concrete, a few doors that lead elsewhere that are closed, and at least at the moment nothing wanting to attack and kill them. Still, Fang's positioning herself to keep an eye on the doors around them, just in case that last part changes.

Edited 2018-08-28 20:43 (UTC)

So, this is pretty damn creepy. Maybe not trapped in a giant donut ship with potential alien chest-bursters creepy, but it's definitely got a Fallout, we came here to escape the bomb and/or do horrible experiments on people vibe.

Peter would be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little excited about it.

Not that he's happy, because everything leading up to this has been really, really terrible and upsetting, and a girl died and apparently everybody nearby was in some kind of awful trance that made it impossible to stop from happening. Peter hadn't been there; he'd been up in his room working on systhesizing chemical compounds from the local plantlife, oblivious to there even being a problem until it was all over. He'd felt pretty bad — Still feels pretty bad — but he's been thinking about the conversation he had with Kamala that day with the werewolf, and he knows what she'd tell him (because she's way more sensible than he is): If Cap and Black Widow couldn't stop it, you probably couldn't, either.

But he's here now because he's desperate to do something, and curious, too, and when the pod screeches to a halt rather than rocking them gently to a stop, he's not really worried — One, they can climb back out the way they came even if it's dark and really far, and two, why yes, someone here is good at machines.

It's him. He's good at machines.

"Yeah," he replies, jumping quickly down from the pod out onto the track. Crouching, he waves away the curl of smoke slipping from beneath the carriage. "It doesn't smell electrical, so that's good news. It might just need a tune up, like you said."

"This better not be a tune up like the last one I saw." Because the last one she saw involved fighting a giant flying horror monster to fix an inert elevator. And a few not quite as giant walking horror monsters. Given she's without her power set and proper weapon, even if she's still very physically capable, Fang would rather avoid that when all's said and done.

As the other four remove themselves from the pod, Fang sets down the makeshift spear she brought with her, made from a sturdy sapling and whittled and fire-hardened to a sharp point, then makes sure that the long knife she borrowed from the storage room isn't going to jam itself into her thigh as she shifts once again to try and get a closer look at the problem. She knows a decent amount about machines, but if she's being honest she'll admit that her expertise is more about how to break them on purpose than to get them running again. But this also appears fairly far below the level of tech she knows from Gan Pulse, not to mention Cocoon, so she probably can't mess this up too much. "If you've got some idea what you're doing, let's get to work.

"Everyone else," and she only raises her voice a little, but she puts more force behind the words to project them further so those that have started to wander off can hear, "we're all wearing those watches. If you're gonna wander around, check in every twenty minutes so everyone knows you're not dead. Send a message or activate the distress beacon if something goes wrong and you get trapped somewhere. We don't need anyone else dying from this if we can help it."

It's good, solid advice she's giving, but Peter isn't listening — He's already set the brake and jammed himself up under the pod along the track. His wrist device emits a little bit of light, but it's not nearly enough to get a decent read on what they're looking at, and he scoots his way back out, grease already smeared across his chin and dingy white scrubs.

"We need more light," he says, stepping past the track and into the glow of the room beyond. There are shelves, and lined up on them are old-style lanterns — The kind with a crank you keep in case the power goes out.

"Perfect," he says, grinning as he pulls one down.

"Take a lantern before you go!" she calls after the retreating backs. Peter's not the one she's worried about, since he's staying there where she can keep an eye on him and he seems pretty intent on the work that needs to be done. Hopefully the rest of the group is willing to follow those guidelines; she's gonna be rolling her eyes if people don't want to follow basic safety protocols.

"Here, let me have that," Fang says, moving to grab another lantern in case it's needed and holding out her hand for the one Peter grabbed. "I'll take care of all this sort of stuff so you can work on that. Just tell me if you need me to hit anything." Because, as they all know, thirty percent of fixing a broken piece of equipment is knowing exactly where, when, and how hard to hit it to get it working again.

Moving back to the pod, Fang sets down the two lanterns about ten feet apart to give them something resembling even coverage of light, then starts cranking the one closer to the pod after a moment of studying it. The filament flickers and then shoots into much brighter light the longer she cranks; when it looks like it's at full power and will stay there for awhile, then she moves onto the second one, repeating the process. "Any idea what's going to need to happen here, or do you need to look a little closer first?"

So this girl is cute but kinda pushy, Peter thinks as he obediently holds out the lantern. Not that he's saying it's a bad thing, it's just— well. Apparently she's in charge. Having had Tony Stark as a mentor, he just goes with it.

"It's mechanical, not electrical, like I said," Peter replies and drops to the ground again so that he can scoot back up under the pod's carriage. "If we're lucky, it's something simple that won't require a major repair, but we might have to look around for spare parts— Could you angle that more to the left?" He squints against the light as it shifts. "Thanks."

It doesn't take long to pinpoint the problem, and he frowns. "It's a bearing," he calls out. "It looks like it was sitting unused for so long, the lubricant got too viscous. It should be an easy fix, but—" He sighs, hefting himself back out from under the pod. "Only if we can find a replacement and a decent lubricant."

Angling the light to Peter's specifications only takes a second, Fang nudging the lantern with her foot into a better position and then settling back to wait for whatever pronouncement he gives. She's at least used to people younger than her being good with machines (just look at Hope), and so she has no problem with waiting for Peter to complete an initial inspection and figure out what's gone wrong.

Still, when he crawls out with a pronouncement, she can't help but frown. Electrical would almost be better, because she's willing to bet there's still power down here in some shape or form. Finding a spare part... well, that's going to take some luck. Also knowledge of this bunker, which they don't have. "You're sure?" She doesn't sound like she really doubts him, more like she just wants confirmation. And then there's a sigh and she's shaking her head, looking around the room they're stuck in. "Can we even fix something like that without getting the entire thing off the track? We didn't bring any tools to take apart a machine, and I doubt they've left a set of whatever they used to build this place just lying around."

Still, there's no use in not trying to get the thing done. Expressing doubts and planning for the worst is reasonable; sitting around complaining and waiting for the bad to come is worthless. Moving back over to the shelves with the lanterns, Fang takes down one of the last ones there and cranks it, looking back at Peter again. "I'm followin' your lead - if you had to put this stuff somewhere, where would you put it?"

"I can fix it," Peter insists, holding a splayed hand her way — Just slow your roll, there, lady. It's under control. "It'll be harder to fix if we can't find supplies, but I'll be able to do it."

They have the pod here, the rows of lanterns... If nothing else, there might be something in the complex he can dismantle, improvise. He didn't get to where he was back home by not being able to make the most out of what was on hand. If Mr. Stark could build an actual Iron Man suit in a cave from spare parts, Peter can fix a bearing in a creepy bunker.

"In a closet, maybe?" he answers as he picks up one of the lanterns and hops over the end of the tracks and into the bunker beyond. "I might have to take something else apart to get what we need, but maybe we'll get lucky."

Armed with more by way of sharp objects than plans, Owen is trying to center himself for the job. He likes to take new things in slowly, make his moves with caution--but this place likes to fold danger and change in on themselves, narrow the timeline at the worst moments. When he swam out, following the others, it was because of Kamala. Fighting his grip just to get under the water, and some other girl dead in her place.

There's a kid her age with them. Seems capable enough, if a little squirrely, but even the most capable teenager is better off with a few decent adults.

It feels like he knew, stepping into the pod, what kind of place they might find. He'd just expected it lit up, blue-white and ugly. And it isn't pretty, in the light from the pod: concrete, the stale air of disuse. Kind of place you stayed the fuck out of, back home. As if to beckon them deeper in, there's a row of lanterns close enough to notice--hand crank, clicking to life when he winds one. A low sound, more than the hum of electricity, picks up with the light. Faint static from a speaker on the light, punctuated by drops of silence.

"I don't like this." Translation: this place gives him the fucking creeps. He puts a lantern down by Peter and Fang, passing another off. Picking up a third, he cranks it and uses it to explore the dimensions of the room--finding the door ahead.

"You," he says, pointing to Danny. Fang seems capable enough, with the kids, and Danny doesn't strike him as much of a mechanic. "Let's see what's in there: see if we can get some lights on, if it's safe."

Donned in his monk robes, Danny had only his fists and a ridiculous sense of right and wrong to back him up. He didn't see a need for impromptu weapons when his fists have always been good enough. Maybe if he'd had access to a good pair of Nunchaku or a decent sword but nothing at the inn had suited him.

The pod was strange, the first that Danny had seen of its kind, but it wasn't as strange as the sense of plunging into the ground. He'd spent a great deal of time in the Himalayas mountains but the only time he had entered a place this deep had been during the trials. His back tensed and after a moment of unsteady breathing, Danny centered himself.

Once they were out of the elevator things felt more normal. It was a room with lights. They just had to figure out what it had been used for.

Danny was looking around before turning to face the man who had addressed him. He nodded his head once and jogged over towards the door. Owen was correct in assuming that Danny was not a mechanic. "Do you think the door will open?" He missed having a fist that could punch through any door.

Edited 2018-08-29 01:16 (UTC)

Following at a more sedate pace, with one last look at the girls and Peter, Owen drew the light behind and up beside Danny. Shining left and right, there were smaller doors and entrances around the space--one left open, to explore if no other mechanism could be found.

"Looks like the first couple of people here got those open," he said, gesturing to the smaller room. "Let's check it out, might find some controls, or something to pry it open with." In the relative safety of the closed room, he kept his other hand cranking the lantern; the last thing he wants, shuttled underground with fuck knew what, was to be left in the dark.

Danny nodded his head and slipped around Owen's side as they headed towards the room. He wanted to stay out of the way while remaining inside the soft gentle halo of the lantern. He didn't like the pressure of the dark but he ignored it, keeping his focus steadily directed towards their goal. They had to find a way to open more path ways, maybe a map or working lights? Anything would be useful.

"Bull and Stephanie said that they didn't find anyone down here but there must be clues to people who had used this place." Danny was determined and wildly hopeful. He hadn't been in the village long enough to know that finding another living soul was unlikely.

"The schematics we dug out of the wendigo," Owen says, almost thinking aloud, "we should bring them next time. "From all the sightings, those things came off the mountain, we might be near their territory."

Bull and Stephanie hadn't mentioned those either, and Owen hopes that holds true. The last thing he wants is to fight one in the dark, the pod locked down and no access to local flora.

Hell, he'd take some help from an ant bite, if that badger was any indication. "Hold this," he asks, handing off the lantern as he squeezes through the gap of the forced door. Bull's handiwork, maybe, or an old sign of life. In the residual light, he can see equipment along the walls, buttons and dials with their own faint glow. "All clear, looks like some kind of control panel. Still has some juice."

Danny frowned. "There were schematics inside the wendigo?" He'd hated not being able to help during the attack but he hadn't realized that they had found something like that. It was definitely a strange thing to find inside of a creature; unless it had thought it was food.

"Yeah." It would be useful but still strange.

He took the lantern and then followed close enough to spill light into the room. He didn't know if Owen wanted him on that side of the door though he'd take some effort to get the lantern through.

"There any other rooms or is it a dead end?" Danny shifted the lantern through the door first and then began to attempt to pry the space open a little bit more and slip through.

Awareness returning to Danny, and his attempt to one-hand his way through the door, Owen returns to pry it back for him. Once they're inside, he nods for Danny to shine the lantern around the space to look for another way through.

"Looks like a dead end," he decides, unless they want to work out how to get into and through what look like a couple of very small vents. "And yeah, we posted them up at the Inn. Without any context though, I don't think anyone recognized them enough to call a meeting over it."

And there had been a body to bury, another to study. Take care of what you can, and get to the rest. So: the lights and doors. "It's a long shot," Owen admits, using two fingers to indicate that he needed light and attention on the console. "But you're not somehow familiar with underground bunkers, and which buttons might power up the place?" There were key pads, dials, a few levers. Their markings required closer inspection, and Owen leaned over, light spilling in from the side.

He lifted the light and watched as the lantern spilled over the console. Danny didn't know a lot about technology but he'd caught on fast after his return to New York. This wasn't anything like that. It looked like it might be getting power, or he hoped so, the lights weren't on in his part of the bunker but Stephanie had told him that there lights down here which meant that there was probably power.

He stared at the unit before pointing to one of the buttons that looked like it could be a power button. "Is it this one?"

If Danny had been alone, he probably would have just pressed it but since he had company, he decided to make it a mutual decision instead of just pressing it. If Owen wasn't sure either and didn't have any better ideas, then he was totally going to press it and see if he was correct.

Whatever it did, logically, it probably didn't close the doors and drop the ceiling on them. With the pod already broken, Owen assumes the worst it can do is make some kind of noise--and they were told the place seemed empty.

And if green wasn't some universal color for on and go, they'd have nowhere to really start.

"Press it and let's find out," he offers, gesturing for Danny to do the honors.

"Okay." Danny didn't need more than that to press the button. Nothing happened. So he pressed the button next to it and then the one above it. Eventually he found a correct button because the console flickered to life.

"Oh. That do it?"

He's just going to pretend that it'd been that first button.

The last time Sam had gone spelunking, it had ended with Avery nearly being turned to ash by Tommy Sunshin's democra-box. And while she was pretty sure that there were no Predators lurking around in the dark, ready to royally fuck up her life--she would have felt them, she was reasonably certain--it took a lot of concentration to force that memory to one side. It helped to remind herself that she was still fucking pissed at Avery. Probably would be for the rest of her life.

And the woman who seemed to be walking down the corridor with her was another excellent distraction.

Sam didn't know her. But, of course, she didn't know a lot of people. Not by name. Faces, though. Faces she had down. This one was yet another Underwear Model, of course. But Sam hadn't been able to glean much else about her.

Not for the first time, she wished she had Avery's talent for reading people. And predictably enough, the thought of him once again made her grind her teeth in frustration.

"So," she said to the stranger, trying to be amiable. "What brings a nice girl like you to a place like this?"

It wasn't lost on her that she was one of the youngest among the group, save for Peter. Being 16, most regarded her as they would a child, though the rules of her world were different about such things than anywhere else it seemed. Perhaps in a continual effort to be taken seriously, Lyanna volunteered for this trip. Or perhaps because she was tired of sitting around and thinking about the past, she chose to come rather than be stuck with the quiet.

It didn't prepare her for the strangeness of their surroundings, though she should be used to that for now. Yet another pod, only this time, she had a chance to see it rather than hear others tell her about what they found.

She doesn't understand the question Sam asks, not having heard that sort of line before. She's left wondering for a moment if the woman is mocking her or something else. Why else would be questioned about her presence unless she was being judged by appearance or age. "What do you mean by that?"

Okay. So snark wasn’t everyone’s default. The woman had a faintly Kindred air about her. Although Sam couldn’t put her finger on why. It didn’t matter, though. She could code switch.

Sometimes.

“Just a figure of speech,” she said, with a sigh in her voice. “Making conversation. I don’t really do silence.” One of her countless flaws, no doubt. “Anyway. This place is pretty much a horror show, so I figure instead of delaying the inevitable we should just conjure it up. In the movies, the thing with the chainsaw usually shows up right after the comic relief makes some kind of joke. And I figure that’s pretty much my place in all of this.”

Her life was a fucking joke, after all.

“I’m Sam, by the way. Resident vampire.” And big mouth.

"Oh." She could understand that and flashed Sam a smile to compensate for her earlier sourness. "All of this has me confused. I have never seen anything like this before." The room, the technology that everyone else seemed able to understand. It was another sign that she was out of her element when it came to the Observers.

All she could understand were their mind games, even if the reason wasn't clear.

"What is a chainsaw?" She glanced over at her, blinking in confusion. Again, terms that she didn't understand. It was almost as though this girl was speaking in a completely different language. "You think that this is a trap?" That seemed to be the implication.

"I remember hearing that term before. Vampire. What does that mean? Oh, and I am Lyanna."

Sam waved off the chainsaw comment. It was like talking about Twitter and Facebook with Avery. Confusing and ultimately irrelevant. But she did scowl, nodding grimly at the idea of a trap. Maybe it was because she still couldn't escape the memories of the Predators. Maybe she never would. And Sam was never sure how to feel about that from one moment to the next.

And that went double for Avery.

"I think vampire roughly translates to 'cursed with suck,'" she said dryly, hooking her thumbs through her back belt loops. "Just a type of monster."

Okay, that was maybe a step too far.

She looked over at Lyanna. "Don't worry. I'm not dangerous to you."

It was almost like she was stating the obvious. "If you were dangerous, we would have seen that by now." Monster, that was the word she knew, but this woman was harmless. The dead villagers didn't come at her hands but from what lurked in the woods.

"How much further does this hall go?" Lyanna asked, turning back to the matter at hand. It didn't really matter very much to her who was at her side. Without a weapon, she was basically defenseless, save for the sheer will still burning inside of her. Somehow though, she suspected that the Observers were above making something pop out of the shadows here.

They enjoyed toying with their minds.

“As long as the fuckers want it to go,” Sam replied with a half shrug. Scientific reasoning indicated that it had to end soon. But these were assholes who had figured out Einstein-Rosen bridges like they were a recipe for matzo ball soup. Thinking in terms of logic would only lead to madness. And possibly some drooling.

With a side of Frenzy.

And shut, what was it with these people repeatedly taking her at face value? Not that San wanted to be feared or anything. But. Damn. Everyone just went with it.

She was sure she wouldn’t have trusted herself. But then, she was paranoid.

Narrowing her eyes, she scanned the darkness ahead. “You can get behind me, if you’re nervous.”

[Closed] Down the Tubes: Breakdown

For Peter, fixing the pod (if anyone else wants to tag a bit go for it)

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general exploration with danny; open to other tags

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Sam and Lyanna

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