ARRIVAL LOG 005

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: Night of August 23 (through to August 30th)
WHAT: The fifth arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy. Further notes at end of log.

> ARRIVAL LOG #005

Awareness comes to you in blurred snatches, cloudy fragments of sound and light, color, sensation. Hazy and difficult to grasp on to, but slowly aligning into focus. A series of regular, rhythmic beeps. A medicinal, astringent smell. The sensation of movement, a low hum and accompanying vibration under you. Your eyes are heavy, hard to keep open, but in the glimpses between slow, dark blinks you see four people in black body armor seated opposite you, as well as a man in dark gray scrubs. You realize there are others next to you. All of you in white scrubs, hair recently cut but at various stages of growth, restrained by straps across your chests, arms, feet, holding you to the bench under you. To your left, an armored interior door, two more people visible, the movement of dark streets and neon windows passing through a windshield. You try to open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your tongue is coated in tar, and you manage nothing more than an empty parting of lips. The vehicle stops. The guard opposite you stands and comes to unbuckle you from the bench, helping you to your feet. Your limbs feel wooden and heavy, slow to move. One guard opens the back of the vehicle: beyond it, a chamber only dimly lit by strips of light along the floor. The nurse moves to stand at the back of the vehicle, checking each passenger over one by one just before they're helped out of the vehicle, quick and methodical. She doesn't climb out after you, moving to sit as the last passenger is unloaded. The guards keep their heads down. Their actions are quick, firm, but not entirely unkind. Under your feet, you can feel the thrum of heavy bass vibrating through the floor. You see nearby that there is another bus, another load of passengers being helped out, lined up much like you are. Once you're all in place, the guards move down the line, pulling dark hoods over each passenger's head. Your arm is lifted, placed on the shoulder of the passenger in front of you in line. "Hold on," says one of the guards. "Stay quiet. Keep moving until I say stop." There is no will in you to fight the orders. How far you walk is hard to determine. Counting steps is difficult, and any concept of time passing stretches between the sound of footfalls and breathing - soon overshadowed by the music. Growing louder, closer, the heavy bassline begins to reverberate through the air around you, amplified by the acoustics of the place. Melody and vocals become audible, the chatter of a crowd. Finally, you stop, and the hoods are pulled off, following down the line as the guards walk back. You turn to look after them, but they quickly disappear into the darkness of the tunnel behind you. The door in front of you swings open, the full weight of the music washing out. A tall woman with sharp, geometric patterns of ink tattooed across her skin smiles at you with sharp teeth, glowing luminescent in the UV lighting above her. "First timers?" she asks, but doesn't wait for an answer. "Don't worry, those costumes are great. Come on, come in." As you move to comply, she takes each of your hands, stamping a twisting design on the back, shining bright in the UV light. "Welcome," she says, as she ushers you out of the lobby and into the noise and crowd beyond. "To the Insomniacs' Ball." ◉ Though entirely capable of independent action and thought, new characters will find themselves completely, unquestioningly compliant to any verbal statement which could be taken as a command or request.

> THE INSOMNIACS' BALL

The message from El comes the same as previous: insistent, not waiting for any active attempt to open it. Scrolling within your vision as if being written while you're reading it. I'm not saying bus #5 got past me, but our favorite mysterious human traffickers have gone seriously sneaky this time around. And I'm not saying I can't help you get to where you need to be, but I can't. This one needs legwork, because you're going to have to land invites to the Insomniacs' Ball. The Insomniacs' Ball is an open secret. A New Amsterdam urban myth, disbelieved by many and desired for by even more. A week long party held every year as the working schedule changes, as the city struggles between the oppressive heat and the shifting of sleep cycles. Whether you'd prefer to be asleep at night or day, the ball doesn't care - a rolling, 24/7 event that continues until it disappears, as quickly as it arrived. Its location is a secret. Existence frowned upon, possibly even shut down by the authorities - dancing until you fall down is hardly advisable while water rationing is in place. Yet every year the rumors spin again, the whispers, clues and tastes and photos shared on social media which vanish before anyone can really be sure what they saw. Whoever puts the ball together is as good at keeping their head down as Morningstar - and most likely greases more wheels, rather than trying to be a wrench in the machine. Either way, all El can do is point you to the same paths anyone else hungry for an invite is taking. THE PUZZLE Emerging on social media like proverbial white rabbits, clues in the form of bizarre symbols, phrases or riddles have appeared, hidden in images or tucked in VR simulations. Solving them isn't for the impatient. Some take more work than others, a knowledge of numbers or pattern recognition, or ancient cultural references. The answers come as new clues, pointing to locations in the city, to other VR simulations, to figures waiting in cafes or particular enemies in your favorite VR video game. A treasure hunt for the modern age, as each step is completed the participants are whittled down, but for anyone who reaches the end, the prize of an invite to one of the most mysterious pieces of New Amsterdam life is worth all of the work to get there. THE DARE The challenges start small. Stand up and sing in a crowded restaurant. Take a selfie at the UNA's front door. Eat a live scorpion. Soon it escalates, taking even the most jaded of adrenaline junkies on a rollercoaster of illegal and death-defying stunts. Joyriding a notorious gangster's hoverbike. Climbing a construction beam between two of the tallest buildings in the city. Standing in central square and declaring yourself to be a Morningstar operative. The risks climb higher and higher, and for some the stakes are too much. Others hold their nerve, eyes set firmly on the goal, the victory of holding an invite in their hands. THE BOON And then there are those who make no effort at all. Passed to them by the hands of lady luck, their invites arrive in their pockets, slid under their doorframes or hidden under a glass at work. Bartenders open up crates of stock and find a wedge of them tucked in amongst the packaging; bike couriers arrive at delivery destinations only to find a parcel waiting there for them. Whether targeted or purely a matter of chance, many attendants at the Insomniacs' Ball will have had the opportunity simply fall in their lap - and some may not recognize what they've received at all. However you've managed to get your hands on an invite, the directions on the back are the same - leading you deep down into the city's underground, past some of the darker corners and into some even darker ones. A rusted, disused door to an abandoned maintenance area wouldn't look like the place, but the intricate geometric design painted silvery and barely visible across the surface matches the invite you hold, and you know you've found the entrance to wonderland. Behind the door, lies a twisting network of tunnels and rooms built into natural caves, ultimately abandoned by the city when its insides proved too difficult to navigate. Now, for a short time, it's home to a carnival of revelry. Strobing neon lights illuminate snatches and glimpses of the crowd, glowing in pools of UV: a dense mass of people from all over the city, young and old, music and dancing flowing from chamber to chamber, clashing and mixing between. Extravagant, outrageous costumes mingle with simple streetwear, or with no-wear at all. People hand out masks, drinks, substances which it may not be advisable to consume. Sealed bottles of water seem to appear from nowhere, passed among the people, their source and seeming escape from the rationing in the city far above going unquestioned. Smaller chambers offer some respite for those who need to take a minute, catch their breath, or want a quiet corner to talk with a new friend. Other chambers contain more hedonistic displays, with most participants always willing to accept another into their number. No one seems to be in any rush - there's roughly a week to soak in all the delights, and you can even come and go as you please, the UV pattern now stamped on your hand allowing access back through the various doors, if you can find your way back to one. But you're here for a different purpose, and whether it took you hours or days to find your way here, you know that the party will end eventually - and anything more unusual which may be hiding inside will be revealed. ◉ The Insomniacs' Ball and the related methods of gaining an invite will last for one week, from August 23-30. New characters can be retrieved at any time during this, or can find their own way out and be discovered on the streets - just please be advised that they will not be able to survive in New Amsterdam without first spending time in the Morningstar safehouse and having their ID set up. ◉ We will not be dictating set pieces of the ARG puzzle or challenges - these are left to player discretion as to what your character would have realistically managed to solve or complete! ◉ The invite themselves are business card sized pieces of metal with an intricate geometric patterns etched on one side, and an address on the other. The address leads to a quick series of clues and locations which will take characters to the door as described. ◉ The same geometric design will be present throughout the ball, worn by some of the guests and doorpeople, and even carved into the walls of some of the caves. ◉ While in the ball, there will be rumors and whispers circulating about the owner of the ball being in attendance, and that particularly impressive guests may earn some special reward - or just guarantee an invite again next year.

> THE SAFEHOUSE

Access to the safehouse is a hatch hidden behind stacks of empty storage shelves in the back of an abandoned supermarket in an outer district of the city. The immediate area is similarly abandoned, empty stores, flanked by several blocks of dive bars and clubs which cater to more niche tastes. A place where people can come and go unseen, or, if seen, not spoken of. A dark haired woman called Gaby is ready to greet the new arrivals and get them settled in, brusque and no-nonsense – she'll be open for in depth questions later, but will advise everyone to ask the people who brought them in for the beginning bits of information. ◉ The safe house is a large open space, filled with rows of basic cots set up to sleep a large amount of people. Basic, but outfitted with everything necessary for daily life. A few doors lead to back rooms for storage, medical care and a large communal bathroom, and past the long rows of cots there is a communal kitchen, fully stocked, and an eating area. Privacy is at a minimum. ◉ New characters will be asked to pick their beds, and provided with a change of (second-hand, mismatched and somewhat threadbare) clothes and basic toiletries. ◉ While there were previously also NPC occupants of the safehouse, natives to New Amsterdam, these people have now been moved on to somewhere safer. A few of their belongings remain, discarded or accidentally abandoned. ◉ Gaby will make it clear to all new arrivals that if they have any requests or queries, they should contact her or El. ◉ The drugs making new characters compliant will remain in their systems for a few hours after their being dropped off by the guards before finally beginning to fade. They will be gone entirely after a night's rest. In the meantime, they may want to be careful of what others say to them. ◉ New characters will be given rudimentary access to the network on arrival in the safehouse, but will not have their ID set up yet. They will be able to make posts and replies, but their messages will be anonymous and they do not have inboxes yet. ◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until FOUR DAYS AFTER THEIR ARRIVAL AT THE SAFEHOUSE. These 4 days are for them to adjust, learn about the world they've arrived in from their fellows, and for El to speak with them and work on setting up their IDs.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to Meadowlark, newbies! You're now free to post to the network and logs comms. To reiterate, your characters will have no IDs or inboxes, nor be allowed out of the safehouse until they have been there for four days. At that point it's expected they'll have gotten a good idea of their new situation from their fellow characters, and will have discussed their background and job potentials with El in order for their false IDs to be set up. If you have any questions or ideas about how you'd like to get your character involved in the world, or if they'd like to join Morningstar, please head over to the plot engagement post and drop us a comment! For questions specific to this log, there is a thread below. Please check out our December calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month. As a reminder, AC this month will be a check-in only. AC will be posted on December 20 and close on December 27. If you do not reply to AC, you will be considered idled and dropped from the game. We will not post a warning list.

> NAVIGATION

Comments

[blyat]

You don't even know how to do it.

[Neither does he, but whatever. He's not going to let Achilles back him into a corner, so he remains standing resolutely on the other side of the counter.]

It's what someone said, anyway. We're all supposed to have 'em.

[Don't you go on the internet? Cain, for one, is enjoying the access. The datapads they had up in space were far more limited, and you couldn't interface through your brain. As invasive as it feels, it's much more convenient.]

[kometes]

It has to do with what's inside our chests, right? [ That much is obvious, given his observations so far.

And since Cain isn't running away, Achilles will march right up to him, planting a hand flat on the counter edge at his side. ]

Whatever it is, touch seems to make it awaken. You remember that, don't you?

[ He reaches forward, trying to cup a hand against the curve of his neck. His hand is cold in comparison to the warmth of his skin. ]

[blyat]

[How could he forget it? Cain's expression collapses into caution as soon as he's approached, as soon as the other man steps within reaching distance. Anxiety escalates when that hand lifts and sets itself on his neck. It only settles for long enough to feel the cold of Achilles' skin leech in, long enough for his pulse to jolt up into his mouth in a grimace - he latches onto Achilles' wrist and tries to peel it off.

The blue glows between them, almost distracting. He remembers how it looked in the cave, with little else to illuminate their faces, all that bare skin in endless contact.]

You can't just do that whenever you want.

[Of course, his own hand is bare, so it's not an effective method of removal to avoid what he wants to avoid. Achilles will feel it all tangled together, inextricable: his panic, dread, anger and frustration - some lingering desire, and some very deep guilt - but mostly an overwhelming fatigue. It's a lot, at once, so maybe Achilles won't even piece through half of it.]

[kometes]

[ Achilles in turn is calm - the underlying frustration that motives him to do this in the first place is overpowered by his concentration. Having been trained for years by Chiron, he's learned to combat his own impulses with rational thought, knowing what to prioritize and when to act.

He's no genius like Sherlock Holmes, but he's perceptive when he needs to be. Right now, all he can deduce is that their situation and the state of their bodies are linked to the glowing core inside their chests. It has to be magic.

They're still touching as Cain pries his hand off, so he allows it. His eyes narrow as he tries to assess the wide range of emotions invading him, but decides against making the effort to discern between the feelings. That's not important. ]

What can you do to stop me? [ A bit taunting. ] Besides, I want to figure this out just as much as you or anyone else.

[ He pulls his hand away finally, having had enough. It's not activating the power, so there's no sense in prolonging contact. ]

[blyat]

[He can punch you in the face, asshole, and he's seriously considering it for that reply. Never mind he's gotten into - or accepted - too many fights in the last twenty-four hours of being here. It's how Cain operates, and he can't imagine a world where he doesn't engage physically in that way.]

So go figure it out yourself.

[With a (bratty) huff, Cain will attempt to exit stage left... and leave Achilles with clean up duty of the plate. Serves him right.]

[kometes]

[ He's noticed the bruises on Cain's body. He is actually impressed he managed to get himself into a fight between now and when they'd spent time together the night previous.

He would have liked a fight, to test himself now that he has no powers, but it would be in poor taste after how he handled his body before.

So instead, he reaches out to yank at his collar, trying to pull him back. ]

Clean this up before you go. [ He wouldn't care normally, but Chiron has instilled values in him which he will gladly impose on others. In addition to wanting to imitate his mentor -- ]

Someone could get hurt, you know. [ His own foot is bandaged.... He's got a personal investment in this, given how annoying it had been to clean up his wound. ]

[blyat]

[The collar pulls at his throat, reeling Cain back a step - he makes an unpleasant hrrk sound in the process - until he's stilled and caught. Prevented from leaving the kitchen with the intention of gaining distance from this guy in particular.

He doesn't like being told what to do. Even less coming from someone who is not a direct superior blackmailing him for his freedom. Cain bares his teeth in a glower.]

You clean it up.

[Indirectly, he blames him. Achilles may not know, but he has no doubt the emotion he felt prior to the shattered plate is what contributed - as Hafid said on the network earlier.]

Maybe if you left me alone, it wouldn't have happened.

[kometes]

[ He's so volatile, totally unlike how he was when Achilles had his hands all over him the night previous.

He should have expected this response, but he still bristles at the tone the other man uses. This guy is really stretching his patience to its very limit. ]

Don't go blaming others for your actions even if they are accidents. [ Achilles had spent much of his youth shifting blame whenever possible, until he ultimately learned that only he's responsible for what happens directly around him. Blurting out such words, though, he realizes that such a philosophy can't be taught through lecture.

His brow twitches. ]

I'll help you.

It's a responsibility we can share between us.

[blyat]

And don't fucking lecture me. You're not better than me.

[Volatile and edging for a fight, because it's all he knows how to do to get this anger out from beneath his skin, the confusion and anxiety chafing away at threadbare nerves. The last day and night have left him in shreds.

But, still, he seems to relent. Cain kneels with a grimace, still smarting from his fight against Malone, and picks up the largest shards from the floor first.]

[kometes]

[ Achilles snorts again, though this time he sounds amused rather than annoyed.

Yes, he is better than you, Cain. He keeps his mouth shut for now, though, bending to his knees so he can pick up the pieces of ceramic with him. His eyes drift from the other's face to the floor, noticing the state of his fingers and knuckles. He really did get into a fight after he left him, didn't he? ]

Are you hungry? [ He's being conversational for the purpose of filling the silence, and maybe if he feels up to it, he'll prepare them something since he knows how to use the microwave and oven now. ]

[blyat]

[Startled to be asked, Cain's chin jerks up, a blank look eclipsing the frustration on his face. For as volatile and aggressive he's turned over the course of the conversation, he doesn't get why this guy still bothers. He should have left the kitchen by now - or at least goaded him into an actual fight, as he's often keen to do.

Is he hungry? Not for most of the morning. But that brief flare in his chest had left him winded and exhausted, and at last seems to summon an appetite, however feebly small.]

Why, you gonna make something?

[Cain rises to dump the ceramic shards into the appropriate recycling bin.]

[kometes]

[ Achilles isn't threatened by the stranger. He finds his attitude grating, which is why he's going to attempt to call a truce by way of food.

Unsure of what to do with the glass, he'll probably end up dumping the shards in the sink. Recycling? What is that? ]

I need to eat every couple of hours to preserve my strength.

[ Just like when he was alive, he's a big boy and needs a lot of food. ]

[blyat]

[Achilles, you have to recycle everything... they're very environmental here. Also, the sink is not effective. Cain watches him do it with a grimace, but he's not going to bother cleaning up after him. Let someone else do it.]

All right, then cook.

[He sits at the table, putting his chin in his hand. Feeling all over exhausted and drained.]

[kometes]

[ He's not even going to offer to help? Achilles smirks at him, watching him from his peripheral as he turns towards the kitchen set. He remembers most of what he's been taught, but he feels experimental right now. He's tired of soup.

Fishing around the drawers, he'll find a pan and set it on the element. In the fridge, he finds some eggs, which are much larger than what he's ever used to seeing since chickens hadn't existed in his region when he'd been alive.

Get ready for the blandest, scrambled eggs you've ever had, Cain. Achilles will set the steaming, hot pan in front of him once he's done. The pan is full to the top. ]

Well? [ He looks quite proud of himself... ]

[blyat]

[Why would he help when he's getting a free meal out of this? Plus, Cain's not used to any of the food here, based on the quick inventory check of the kitchen when he first got in here. What they had on the colonies was starkly different: hardier, easier to transport, usually prefrozen. Not that what's here is fresh, just... better, in general.

So when Achilles sets the pan in front of him, full of what looks like curdled yellow fat - unappetizing, but now he's genuinely hungry - Cain doesn't complain. He chews through his first bite, then looks at Achilles.]

Decent, I guess.

[Tastes like chewy flavorless protein. So not all that different from what he ate in the military. His opinion is... neither negative or positive. Sorry, Achilles.]

[kometes]

[ He's not offended. Actually, he's pleased that he didn't manage to offend his tastebuds the moment the spoon entered his mouth.

Though he knows how to cook, he was never taught much more than the essentials by his teacher. Being a general, he was used to others cooking and cleaning for him, and it's been a long time since he's practiced any of those skills since Chiron had him practice everyday. He's sure he's lacking in those areas. ]

I didn't expect it to be the best thing you've ever eaten. I'd feel sorry for you if it was. [ Earnest. He's sure the canned food is better than this grub.

Still, taking his own fork, he reaches over to steal a portion, scooping out curdled bits and pulling it back so he can shove it in his mouth. It's not bad. ]

My mood gets bad when I'm hungry, too.

[blyat]

[How is Achilles not spilling bits of scrambled egg all over the table? It's so impossible to eat with a fork. Nevertheless, Cain lets him reach over the pan - he did cook it. And Cain could never eat the majority of what was made. He'll likely push the dish toward the other man once he's had his fill. Let Achilles feast.

Strangely earnest for someone who fucked and chucked him. Cain glances up, eyes narrowed with thinly veiled suspicion.]

It's not my appetite, asshole.

[Yet the words don't wear the same bite as earlier, tone softened from that sharp, harsh edge.]

Why are you sticking around, anyway? You left fuckin' quick last night. [Ouch. That's not all contributing to his mood, but it certainly doesn't help...] Feeling guilty now? I don't actually care about what happened, okay? I was high on drugs.

[kometes]

[ He's a hero, he can do anything. Balancing rubbery bits of eggs on his fork is a small feat.

Anyhow, upon receiving the other man's biting words, Achilles cocks his head like a confused dog. Guilty? He looks confused by the accusation, like he has no idea what he'd be guilty for. ]

You were offended by that? [ He doesn't laugh, but there's amusement evident in his light tone. Being a man from an ancient era, he doesn't believe in obligatory aftercare during a one night stand. After all, he was only using Cain for means of mana transfer. ]

I left when I realized that bedding you wouldn't give me mana; I wanted to figure out why. Otherwise, I would've gone further. [ Was he not satisfied? His ego is a little hurt...]

Are you telling me you weren't satisfied?

[blyat]

[Cain's hand flexes and tightens around the fork he's holding, biting back the violent impulse to toss it at the other guy's head. But then he wouldn't have anything to eat with, and while he's not against picking a fight, his head hurts too much from being knocked out cold around the end of the night.]

I told you, I don't care.

[Maybe he did, in the moment. It felt cold when he was used to receiving more than immediate abandonment from random lays, but it could be that Cain chose the wrong person.

If only it didn't feel like a betrayal to someone who isn't even here.]

What do you mean, mana?

[kometes]

[ He says he doesn't care, but it sure seems like he does. Achilles can recognize the signs in his expression and posture, how tense he is, as if prepared to defend himself when the situation calls for it. It makes him appear more boyish, young. He wonders how old he is. ]

If you don't know what mana is, then you wouldn't understand.

You're just a regular mortal. I wonder why you were even brought here.

[blyat]

[It feels like he's being looked down on, as a "regular mortal" who wouldn't understand. But couldn't he, if this guy just bothered to explain it?

Cain glowers, drops his fork onto the pan with a clatter, and shoves his chair to stand up.]

What, like you're better than me? Fuck off.

[kometes]

[ Of course he is better than you, Cain. He's a demi-god.

He snorts a little, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms. He has no reason to chase after him if he decides to leave. He treated him to a dinner, and even serviced him the other night. He figures that he's not the one he's truly angry with at the moment. ]

Answer this before you go: were you a warrior?

[blyat]

[Cain is angry about plenty of things. This situation is just one of them.]

Did I fight? Yeah. [If that's what he means.] Why?

[kometes]

[ He figured. He could feel the strength in his body the night previous, how solid his core was without seeming like he was imbalanced anywhere. He has a body that has been moulded and shaped by experience. ]

When you're finished sulking, come show me where your worth comes from then. Train with me.

[ This stranger won't understand how meaningful this invitation is. He doesn't know who Achilles is and how selective the hero is about who he fights and who he deems worthy to exchange friendly blows with.

He's endeared by him, which is why he's offering him this chance to impress. ]

[blyat]

[Sulking? Cain's mouth splits in a snarl, like a wild animal. But he doesn't act on the impulse he's feeling - hasn't, this whole conversation, to his own credit. As much as he might want to take the other man up on his challenge right here in the small kitchen.]

I'll fight you right now! Just say it.

[Okay, never mind... he doesn't actually have the self control.]