sixthiterationlogs | [MINGLE] PLOT: Down the Tubes: Alarm

◊ immediate arrival

This is what your life costs everyone else; this is how much we hate you.

Famous last words, if anyone else had been around to hear them. Definitely the kind to have him swept out to sea without a funeral. Sacrifices for the Koronokto get their rites before, not after, if they get anything at all. The privilege to die for their city, Cael supposes. The immortality of returning to a well of magic, being used, cycling through for the betterment of their world.

Or it's destruction.

There is no greater consciousness, hitting the water. No lights in tunnels. There is a slowing of time, moments to take in the glassy heat at his back, a smell like every stick of incense and every side of pork upended into the fire. The fat of their glutted wealth burning on a pyre.

House Dane burns, and it is his doing, and he closes his eyes for the water while Kieran drags him close. He knows the peace of salt air stripping his skin, and then it is over.

And then it is starting anew.

The black of the sea is the black of unbeing, until sensation filters in. It's a curious, pregnant thing: at first he thinks he feels out of place because he should be dead, then those feelings elaborate from the nebulous wrong to the specific. An uncomfortable pulling sensation in his mouth and nose, some fixed object opening around each of his arms. When he opens his eyes there's a film of unseeing, a wash of too-bright light, the curvature of--

Cael finds his body floating in some kind of tunnel; glass all around, a cap above his searching hand. He pushes on it to move down in the water, closer to level with someone staring in through the glass. It's nothing he recognizes, and he brings a fist down at their face. When it doesn't immediately free him, he reaches back, finds the opposite side of the structure and thuds a surprisingly thick boot in its place, beating at the clear barrier until shouted instruction and lack of oxygen forces him to stop.

With the cap still in place, water starts to drain, drawing him to sit at the bottom of whatever this is, more exhausted than hostile, but eying the offered hands warily when someone swings the panel open.

item prep and specimen library ◊

Not generally one to let it show, Cael has no idea what any of these people are talking about. He just knows they're being directed up a wide hall, toward something called a pod, and that begs the question of what they're not being shown.

He's gleaned a few things from his immediate time here:

Something had gone horribly wrong.
No one seems to know who he is.
It is impossible to move quietly in big squelching boots.

At the end of the line heading toward the dock, someone would find a pair of soggy hiking boots, as if the last of their group had vaporized up out of them. The first door had given him the kind of fight that meant it either couldn't be opened, or couldn't be opened quickly and quietly; the next, beyond the caved-in set of stairs, gave way easily. Dust moved along the air, and he held his soggy sleeve his mouth to keep from coughing.

It's a place to start, the drip of his barbaric trousers mixing with the light detritus on the floor. His tracks are otherwise dried, going from wet footprints to clear spots in the dust, as he picks through empty boxes, ties a scrap of gold fabric across his mouth and nose, and uses the shelves and dim light from the hall to find a south-facing door, poised to delve deeper into the rooms.

[ Cael has a full profile with his history and permissions, and feel free to ping me on discord or plurk if you have other questions. ]

Edited 2018-08-31 20:48 (UTC)

Back into the deep and dark they go.

The place gives him the creeps on principle: big underground base, secret pod entrance in a lake, more signs of abandonment than actual prior life. It's unclear if someone salted the earth on the way out, or if the tectonic shifts of their new home drove them out. It's unclear why they're wanted back.

The network is a mess of planning where and when to plan, misinformation, confusion about old and new evidence. Owen thought he'd washed his hands of the place days ago, but with six theoretical lives on the line and two recently lost--he doesn't need a map of where he's just been, and he's expendable enough to poke around with anyone else who doesn't want to wait.

Expendable isn't the same as prepared, for what they find.

He steps out to make the message just to get some space. It's Montana on steroids, it's some old school sci fi poster in too many dimensions, there to touch. The console keeps running down the time, and he puts his back to it in the doorway, firing off replies to Liv.

Six people in tubes. Still breathing. Twenty-four hours to get them out.

Stepping back in, he looks at the console, trying to apply what he and Danny found through trial and error days before. They've at least got the lights on, after the awful moment of a crank lantern dying, moments after illuminating the first bodies. His heart had dropped into the seat of his fucking pants. Now, he's almost getting used to it. Look left, there's a body. All done up in scrubs and wearing a fucking back pack.

It's gruesome, too bizarre not to be real. When he can't see a first move that doesn't potentially drop the time on the clock, he reminds Liv about the schematics.

"Keep an eye on that timer," he tells his help. "And them. Message everyone who seems inclined to do something, if it changes."

The pod's been sent, all he can do is work on getting the hall lights on and wait for help to arrive.

Twelve minutes after Liv's text Bucky makes it to the bridge; if you're early you're on time and if you're on time you're late, right? Despite his willingness, a small part of him still prepares for the eventuality of this being a trap, and so the satchel he's got slung over his shoulder and around his neck doesn't quite contain the type of supplies Liv had mentioned. He's stocked up with tools and weapons, with rope and knives and even a pickaxe. Frankly, he looks a little bit more like a mercenary than a rescue party, and that he stands rigidly with his arms crossed probably doesn't really help with that picture.

Ya boy doesn't play around with creepy underground scientific bunkers, okay? He's actually got a pretty significant aversion to them, so if he warily eyes anyone who approaches, well, it's nothing personal. He's got to get into that choke something if it pops out at him wrong zone. Eye of the tiger, thrill of the fight, etc.

In the earliest days after the Rain of Fire, when the world was like a pro wrestling match, complete with the colorful costumes, Sam had walked through the streets with a revolver, trying to break up fights and sort out shit. At the time, she'd at least felt somewhat empowered. She was a fucking Kindred. She had abilities. She could honestly affect change.

Now she was a goddam peon and all she had was a lead pipe she'd ripped out of one of the walls of an empty house.

But damn it, that pipe felt good as she draped it over her shoulder and stormed through the hallway of the bunker, like some kind of Mad Max Road Warrior.

The only thing that really took away from the picture was the LED unicorn horn fastened to her beltloop, just in case she needed light. Yeah, that was a little weird. But Sam wouldn't put it past their Overlords to turn off the lights, just to see what the hell happened. Or unleash the kraken or whatever. Hence the lead pipe.

She poked her head into a few random rooms, but either they had people in them, or else they didn't hold much interest. The specimen library, however, was pretty much made for her. There might as well have been a neon sign above the door that said 'This Room for Sam Moon.' There was enough shit in here to keep her busy on a multiversal PhD or twelve. But, naturally, it was the vials of human blood that caught her attention. Blood coded with colors and letters of the alphabet.

"You fucking dicks," she murmured, hoping the Overlords could hear her as she ran her finger along the labels.

Edited 2018-09-01 01:52 (UTC)

Only the day before, Logan was telling a bunch of people over the network that this was all a trap. That the distress signals were bait to get people down there for one reason or another, though not necessarily in a 'danger Will Robinson' way. If Logan had to bet money on it, he's guessing this is another test to see how they're going to respond.

And judging by what's all been happening the last few days, he's expecting there to be something huge down there.

Stopping off at the inn, Logan collects a few things and heads over with the rest of the team. How he got roped into this was definitely by him being in the wrong place at the right time, but this just happened to be the way his luck ran.

Once in the bunker, he glances down the first hallway before going first a few steps before fishing out the schematics from the inn that were shoved into his back pocket.

"Now's the time to back out if you don't think you can do this."

"

Tried to square not being there

SHORELINE BY THE POD

Considering the last time anyone in the village, other than Sirius had seen her, was the day that Elena drowned, it's a wonder that Rose isn't a little more uneasy about returning to the very spot where it happened. That she isn't more aware of the looks that people might be giving her, or at least meeting them with a defiant stare as she dares them to think her too fragile. She might have skated through her time in the village by bringing relatively little attention to herself, but after the scene by the lake that day, it's hard to imagine the near anonymity she'd found, would continue after this week.

She doesn't seem to care, or even be aware of anyone around her, however, Rose sweeping the area in search of the only face that she knows will get her what she wants. If she had the slightest clue how to operate the pod, she wouldn't even be waiting for Owen but she has more chance of figuring out the device on her wrist than she does of getting down those tubes without his assistance.

So she waits, her weight shifting from one foot to another as she fights the rising impatience, her eyes hard and looking to the est where Owen said he was coming from. The only time she even dares to drag her gaze from that direction is when she lowers her gaze to her wrist; needing the reassurance that the name is still there.

But think that I should have been

DOWN IN THE BUNKER

Give her something to fight, something to physically do and Rose is always in her element but throw her in a room full of machines and timers and tell her that brute force isn't going to help her out of this one, while a timer counts down on the life of somebody she thought she'd never see again? It's the emotional equivalent of Chinese water torture and at present, she has that edge about her that suggests she's ready to break and just start trying to smash her way into those pods.

The only thing stopping her? Owen's words. His clear and simple explanation that doing so could be the very thing that kills them. So instead she stands there, of little use for anything else. Her arms folded across her chest as she stares at the timer to make sure it doesn't change dramatically. All the while silently calculating what she would need to do to break these things apart if it turns out her particular talents are required. It's either that or she stares at the veritable coffin that encases one of her only true friends in this place, and Rose doesn't need to stare at Elena to know how she looks surrounded by water. She's been seeing it every time she closes her eyes for the last six days.

Edited 2018-09-01 04:40 (UTC)

Shout when you wanna get off the ride

IMMEDIATE ARRIVAL - SINGLE THREAD

The problem with rescuing people from vertical pods that contain water, there’s really only one way for the contents to go when the pressure inside the tube is released. While that’s all well and good for the water, for the 110-pound tiny person who happens to be stuck in the pod, it’s a little more like a giant reptile has been set loose on downtown Tokyo, and she’s just along for the ride.

There really isn’t a graceful way for somebody to regain their consciousness - mid faceplant and given the unfortunately timed inhale of breath that was at least ninety percent water? Kenzi’s arrival in what she suspects is only the latest incarnation of hell is about as smooth as Mickey Rourke's face. (Circa 2008)

Despite the fact that she frantically tries to grab whatever she can on the way down, it still ends in a soaking wet, mess of red scrubs on the floor with her jet-black hair spilling around her. Her cheek smooshed against something hard as she tries to blink the water out of her eyes, groaning at the weight of the backpack that’s still strapped to her back.

“This has really gotta stop happening.”

G-g-g-go home, go home it's over

SHORELINE BY THE POD - OTA

“Hi - Yes. You. Excuse me.” Still dripping water on the ground as she shuffles over to the first person she spies in the vicinity, a too bright smile plastered on her face, especially given the expected trauma of having been ripped from your world and thrust into an entirely new one. One full of people you don’t recognize and a near drowning to boot. Of course, she’s going to have questions. So many questions.

a ][ “Do you happen to know if this is one of those kidnappings that comes with refreshments?”

b ][ "A Succubus, a Werewolf and a Siren walk into a bar. This isn't actually a joke I'm just hoping any one of those things ring a bell so you can point me in the right direction?"

c ][ "I think maybe I'm in the wrong place? I like an Abercrombie casting call as much as the next girl but -" Motioning to her wet hair, face, clothes. "I could do without the side serving of Girls Gone Wild."

Am I the only sour cherry on the fruit stand?

WILDCARD - BUNKER + SHORELINE - OTA

OOC: Choose your own adventure. Feel free to hit Kenzi up anywhere between the Bunker and the Shore with a starter of your own. If you hadn't noticed from the rest of this post, she is the least traumatized person there. It's almost like this has happened to her before. Maybe even a lot. Her bio is over here

Edited 2018-09-01 08:33 (UTC)

Paying very close attention to Clint's network the day before, Claire doesn't have to decide where she needs to be, it's instinct. So she gathers a bunch of medical supplies into her backpack and heads over to the lake over in the north village and makes her way down into the bunker to set up a makeshift clinic. Claire spends a good several hours near to where the people in stasis were.

Later, she heads back to the hospital where she keeps herself available in case anyone has issues they need tending to.

Edited 2018-09-01 17:56 (UTC)

There's a lot about the bunker that triggers a number of things for Natasha. Memories, mostly, especially when Natasha finally saw the empty stasis tubes of where six people had been for, well who really knew how long they'd been there. There were plenty of questions and given there were computers, the spy was certain there were answers, no matter how cryptic they might be.

Standing in front of the large console, Natasha looks it over and makes some initial observations about it before setting her fingers down to do what she does best.

After they'd found the room, Peggy had taken herself out of the pack in order to drift into the newly discovered room with a fair share of wariness. She can't say that she's averse to experimentation given what she'd worked on during the war, but this isn't like anything she's seen before and more than that, it's been hidden away. It's just another example of this place thoroughly messing with their minds.

She sees the broken tube first, but her attention drifts to the others as she wanders to them, looking past the fluid to see ...

"Oh, god," Peggy exhales, the words pushed out of her chest. There are people in there and something is going terribly wrong. The control panel is talking about stasis failure and Peggy might not be a whiz in technology, but she knows enough to know that's not good. She looks around the room, intending to break open the pods, but she has a feeling that it might be better to try and work the system. The only trouble is, she can't do that alone.

"I need help!" she shouts, trying to get anyone's attention who might have come down in search of the signals. "Anyone, please!"

arrival - Fountain | closed to Kira

[He is the lucky guy who shoots out through his tube and up to the fountain. Clark doesn't know that. He stayed asleep through that entire ordeal and dreamed of the past. He remembers fishing a bus of children out of the river when he was no older than they were. He remembers going back for Pete because even if he always treated him like dirt, he was a person. Clark couldn't let him die. He can never let anyone die except-

It's unsurprising the first thing he does when he wakes in the water is see if there's anyone with him to save. The second thing he does is lose all the oxygen from his lung in a single burst. The water is cold. For the first time in his life, he knows how badly that can hurt. Clark kicks hard to the surface, hand shooting up to grip the side of the fountain. He does it too hard and is rewarded with more pain. He comes to the surface with a loud groan, but he can't stop. Something is wrong. He is real danger here.

The other hand follows to grip the side with the appropriate amount of strength this time. Clark pulls himself up with more effort than he's ever needed to before. A leg shoots out to finish the job and he falls to the ground for his troubles. He's in no rush to get back up. He hasn't experienced pain since he was a kid seeing through walls and hearing things no one else could. It's terrifying. He's fine with laying there and trying to catch his breath in more clothing than he had when he first fell into the water following the explosion.

Another thing to fear, he supposes.]

post-arrival - Inn

[It doesn't matter how his first encounter goes. He bolts because that's what he does. The only thing that changes really is if he offended the first person he encountered or not. He can find open housing anywhere in the world. This place is no different.

Clark parks himself in front of the fire and tries to decompress. He'll get up soon to ask about food and shelter. He'll get a job and shave his beard to fit in better if need be. Right now he needs to come to grips with the fact that for the first time in many years he isn't different from everyone else. He doesn't know why.]

{Arrival; closed to Peggy}

It's not the first time Phryne has found herself underwater. It's not even the first time she's ended up underwater in a sealed container. It is, however, the first time she's ended up underwater with no memory of how she got there and that alone is enough to be concerning. That she doesn't recognize what she can easily see outside the glass of her watery prison doesn't help either, and moves things quite firmly into the realm of 'potential kidnapping'.

She doesn't panic. For one thing, it's almost certainly not going to help. For another, she very rarely goes anywhere without a lockpick at least. That is, of course, not going to help much if the locking mechanism is on the outside, mind. But it's more than she suspects her kidnappers will have expected, and that's certainly a start.

This runs into problems almost immediately. She doesn't have to do more than brush her fingers against the scrubs to know that they are most certainly not the clothes she'd been wearing previously, and a brief glance downwards only confirms the fact. Worse still, there isn't any obvious way to get out either.

She panics, then, eyes going wide as she struggles to keep herself from instinctively drawing in a breath; it's only when the water starts to drain that the panic begins to fade away. (To be replaced by mild irritation at needing to be helped in the first place, but better that than to drown.)

{Exploration; OTA}

While she might not have any idea where she is - and only has a very basic idea of what all happens to be going on, Phryne is nothing if not endlessly curious. Unsurprisingly, then, once she's decanted and has gotten the basic explanations as to what's going on (and possibly also a clean bill of health) she wastes absolutely no time in poking her nose into the various other rooms, boots squelching softly as she goes. Admittedly, a good deal of it doesn't make much sense to her, especially any of the rooms that have to do with computers, but that's no reason to not familiarize herself with them all the same. It just means that she might need to ask a few more questions, that's all.

And regardless of which room she should happen to be in at the time, anyone she happens to cross paths with is treated to her most charming smile (although the effect is a little ruined by her still-damp hair and scrubs) and a polite "I don't suppose you'd have a moment?"

He's trying not to think about how unsettling the idea of an underground complex in this place is. It makes him think of the hidden network of tunnels and launch rooms under the arena from which tributes are lifted up into the arena. He hates this, hates how this place pretends not to be like the arena and then reminds them all precisely how like the arena it is. He can talk that over with Annie, later, see if she gets the same vibes as him. The two of them came here together, and Annie's acting as an extra pair of eyes for him while Finnick stands on the shore, watching the pod and tracing approach routes from the shore with his gaze. Annie's up a nearby tree, hidden from view but able to see more and different angles than he can.

He's given her a knife, though he knows she won't want to use it.

Finnick's taken off his boots and set them on the lakeshore, and his pants are slightly rolled up so he can wade out into the shallows. He's confident that if anything or anyone tries to get at the pod to cut off the people down there he'll be able to either outswim them or get close enough to throw the trident he's carrying, but being already knee-deep in the water will help.

Despite being heavily armed, his greeting to the people arriving on their rescue mission is friendly enough: smile, nod, a wish of luck. He's hoping his presence can help tilt the odds in their favor, but the good wishes never hurt.

And later, when people start swimming back out from the pod, he'll go to the aid of anyone who looks like they need it, swimming fast and strong through the deep water.

Otherwise, he'll stop someone who's just come back, with a gesture towards the pod.

"What happened there?"

[ OOC - open to before and after the events in the bunker! Feel free to find him on your way in or out, or say hi if you're new. He'll be there until there's nobody left to need guarding. ]

It was easy enough to focus on the newness of it all, at first.

This place has always been coy, revealing itself in slivers of information and oblique hints, never enough to form a complete picture, and whether by design or accident, this is more than its ever deigned to show them before. Pencil and notebook in hand, it had been natural, easier to catalog and notate, to sketch out crude maps as a shield against the existential mire they've all just found themselves up to their necks in.

Karen had been doing okay. The irrefutable jolt of this hidden place had been a lot, is a lot, even after months of its probability hovering over everything she's done. But she had been putting one foot in front of the other, she had been pushing forward, stepping carefully but finding her footing.

But now there's a room and it's filled with endless rows of test tubes and specimen jars winking in the industrial lighting, and they are all so carefully labeled over the scarlet of the blood inside: CT, KA, KP, FC, JJ, DR...

A fine tremble in her fingers, she plucks one tube from the lot and stares at it, cool glass resting against her palm. Emotion bands tight against her chest and she nearly drops the thing, clamps both hands protectively over it — What if this is all there is? What if there isn't any more? — and retreats to the far wall, where she slides down with her back against the cold concrete and squeezes her eyes closed.

None of this should matter, she knows that. But god, it does.

spitting in a wishing well

closed to Steph Brown

[ his eyes pop open wide, blue and wild as he attempts to assess his surroundings. at first, he assumes it's a vision even though he doesn't explicitly have those. he has seen things that weren't happening to him, which is closer to what this would be - if not for the chunk of sandy blonde hair he sees float past him when he struggles. he's not a super great swimmer, what brit is? and that moment of confusion cost him precious oxygen. through the liquid, he's also able to see scrubs, bright red this time. a new mental hospital? it isn't so farfetched for him. still, that can wait until he isn't drowning in a test tube, maybe?

the first person to happen by him gets all of his efforts, concentrated into flailing his arms and legs against the glass until it either breaks or they let him out. unless they're the ones who put him in, but he can't think about that now. he can't think about much of anything without the proper air to his brain. ]

LET ME OUT!!! [ he screams, knowing it isn't the smart play since it will use up the last of his air. if this is how john constantine dies, well, it'll probably be the most mundane death he could have asked for. he's really not ready to go to hell though, so here's hoping the girl takes pity on him anyway. ]

blown to hell crash

OTA

[ once he's let out of the tube and catches his breath, the first thing he thinks to do... isn't a smart thing. especially after nearly drowning. still dripping wet, he goes to find the first electrical socket he can and sticks his finger in. he immediately starts to seize, held to the outlet by its electrical current. he finally falls away from it and hits the ground with a dull thud, blood trickling from his eyes and ears. when someone comes over to check on him, his eyes pop open again, and this time a raucous smile takes up his face as he offers a hand up. help him to his feet, come on!! he rights himself and ignores a shiver that racks his spine, already talking a mile a minute. ]

I saw shadows... lurkers. People who inhabit this place the same as us, they don't belong. But they've made quite a place for themselves here, haven't they? Sick bastards. [ he still sounds wicked cheerful about it though. ] The veil between this world and the next is... strange. It's a one-way trip, that makes sense I suppose. But the other side is highly permeable, like a curtain made of glass beads.

[ and if they all made it in, it's highly likely something else pierced the veil as well. john wipes the blood from his face and goes to find dry clothes. ]

i'm the last splash

OTA

[ he stops dead in the doorway of the prep room, boxes and bags abandoned in a hurry. he drops his backpack on the table and starts going through it, seeing the same items out like an assembly line, ready to fill the next hapless victim's pack. ]

What a botch job this is, eh?

[ even for john, this is a weird day. he starts stripping out of his wet scrubs without much care for who's in the room with him. ]

[ bunker - after "team rescue" ]

Once the distraction of getting people out of the tubes was over, Logan had to get out of there. Not because anyone was in danger of the creature he could become had the powers that be not inhibited the claws from coming out. Smart move on their part, but it did little to stop the whole place from triggering the PTSD that started in a bunker that looked a lot like this one a number of years back. Now all he wanted was to keep himself together long enough to remember how the hell to get out.

[ lake/shore ]

It's only been a couple of hours when Logan appears on the shore directly off the path that leads to and from his house, walking it more times than he can count in the couple months he's been back. He stares across to where the pod is as he perches a cigar at the corner of his mouth and fishes out a box of matches.

He's not doing much better, doesn't expect to for a good few days or until he can find a decent distraction to focus on until he shuts his eyes, letting everything that happened at Alkali Lake back in before waking up as violently as he always did.

To him, it felt like Stryker was behind this like he was behind everything else.

Once the end is lit, Logan takes a good few puffs and takes comfort in having it. He isn't quite sure if it's some kind of reward for helping or someone feeling charitable. Either way, it's nice to have.

But you won't catch him admitting it.

(re)arrival

[Elena doesn't stir as the tubes start to finally drain. She doesn't wake as it slides open and tumbles out, her body limp as a rag doll. Perhaps she doesn't realize that she's (still?) alive, or her body is tired from her terrible ordeal that occurred just recently, but it isn't until moments later, either in a pile on the floor or the arms of a particularly observant rescuer, that her eyes pop open as she simultaneously pulls air into her lungs.]

bunker

[She's a little dazed and wary as she quietly explores the bunker, eager to get away from the stasis tubes but still foggy from what feels like a very, very long sleep. Rose is constantly by her side, and though it's hard for her to entirely gather up her thoughts, she isn't going to turn anyone away that tries to talk to her.

They'll just have to deal with her very intense bodyguard, too.]

Edited 2018-09-04 02:02 (UTC)

Cael Lupei | OTA | Tube arrival and bunker exploration

Owen Prichard | open to first responders and forward scouts

closed to liv, major, ravi

Samantha Moon | OTA | Hallway and Specimen Library

Locked to Alarm Team: Peggy, Circe, Vergil, Clint and Logan

Rose || open to first responders, forward scouts, rescue people

Kenzi || New Arrival || Single Thread + OTA

Claire "For All Your Medical Needs" Temple | Open

Nat Romanoff | Open