meadowlarklogs | ARRIVAL LOG 006

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ARRIVAL LOG 006

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: Night of September 3 to night of September 4
WHAT: The sixth arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy. Further notes at end of log.

> ARRIVAL LOG #006

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 streets 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, and false, colored light, illuminating the streets in the distance will first alert your senses of being somewhere else, combined with warm air that's only cooled with the setting of the sun. The nurse moves to stand at the back, checking each passenger over one by one just before they're helped out of the vehicle, quick and methodical. He 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. Once all the passengers are out, they climb back into the vehicle and close the doors. The engine powers up again, and then the bus is gone.

You're left alone in an alley, with no idea of where you are or why you've been brought here.

Around the corner of the alley, the streets are lined with bright orange, yellow, and red ball-shaped lights cluttered together overhead. Despite seeming rather tangible in nature, the balls themselves are merely well-designed projections. These lights illuminate the streets filled with people – some of which seem indifferent to the festivities, while others move in dense clusters toward a city square filled with countless trucks and tables. They disperse as they arrive – to trucks, to stations to have faces painted, to admire the wide array of sweet confections available. Numerous bits of signage announce various additional activities – but anyone new won't be able to interact, won't know what information is there.

◉ 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.

> LANTERN FESTIVAL

The message from El – no, wait. It's Gaby this time. Otherwise, it's 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 on announcement duty this time. Bus #6, for anyone who's counting. The location? Well, the heart of the lantern festival. A short walk from the safehouse.

Like many of these festivities, the New Amsterdam Lantern Festival is an annual event, dating back decades as a means of celebrating the mish-mash of culture that influences New Amsterdam as it's seen today. Sponsored by Polarized – a known subsidiary of Pulsar – the lights go bright just as the sun begins to set late in the evening, spreading over the city, acting as a dense layer of luminescence for 24 hours. Even in the daytime hours, the lights remain, and the technology seems to make them seem just as bright – which acts as a sign that the lights themselves are not natural, projected outward by numerous devices set up throughout the city.

Most of the events are concentrated in a district square that was once known as the city's Chinatown. At the heart of this festival is a large gathering where numerous food trucks and restaurants come out to advertise their wares. Specializing in desserts and little else, these businesses flood the street every year in hopes of bolstering their business because they can't partake in the restaurant promotion throughout September. The festival concludes with a competition, with each chef revealing their unique lantern festival dessert. These are often rather impressive in nature: cake pops strung together like a dragon, ice creams that make people's mouths look like they're glowing, and large cakes, shaped and designed to celebrate New Amsterdam's arts and festival scene. Many of this year's offerings will both celebrate the year before and offer a somber reminder of the lives lost in the monster attack just months ago. Smaller, sample sizes of these desserts will be available for purchase, which also grants people access to one vote for their favorite dessert.

As the lantern festival comes to a close almost a full day later, the lights clear a path to the river, where countless people will be stretched out and looking skyward for this year's fireworks. Loud, symphonic music featuring some of New Amsterdam's most popular composers will play throughout the area, synced up with the bombastic explosions themselves.

Most of the six newcomers will have hopefully been gathered long before the fireworks go off – but anyone else is free to enjoy them and the festivities leading up to that final conclusion. The festivities vary in nature, from a place for someone to claim a lantern of their own with a wish, to using UV paint to legally cover the ground in unique symbols and lights, to joining competitions where people place chess and checkers for a wider audience. Each of these activities is monetized, so don't expect anything to be for free.

> A VISUAL DETOUR

There will be several new and persistent additions along the most likely path to the festival from the safehouse: small, man-made shrines that have appeared just hours before the dense layer of lights settled over the city. Depending upon their makeup, these shrines vary in structure, size, and design, but have several unique, persistent similarities between them.

Some of the shrines are fully formed, with candles lying underneath them, and cloth blankets acting as an overhang for the art within. At the heart of each of these shrines is an image of a person, with a large, upside down triangle projecting from their chest – blue and noticeable – with their arms spread wide. Some of these triangles project from the chest as if a piece of a 3D pop-up structure, while others are simply a part of the image itself, a flat, smooth surface. Beneath them, there will be a scene from a familiar event for anyone who's been here for a while: a car flying into a monster's mouth, a person healing someone else, bright blue eyes and fingertips, showing the artist's personal interpretation in motion. Any of the cloth is covered in geometric symbols, intersecting circles and triangles, many of them in specific and particular patterns.

Other shrines are two dimensional in nature – painted, to be more specific, on the walls themselves – both hidden bits of scenery meant to blend in with the surroundings, or large and spread out, splashing wide arrays of colors and symbols. Whoever set up many of these artistic displays had a special paint and familiarity with the lantern festival lighting, as it draws special attention to the blue light that pours out of the people featured, whether it comes from their eyes, mouths, or the traditional chests. Silver and gold geometric symbols stretch around these images, framing the scene portrayed.

These additions aren't only located near the safehouse, but that's where they're concentrated for now. Within days, they'll be elsewhere: on walls in oft-frequented public restrooms, behind popular nightclubs and bars, and just about anywhere else – popping up and coming down as people tire of their presence – or are simply bothered that they're there at all.

> 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 arrival at the safehouse 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 SEPTEMBER 7. 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 September 7 (January 14). 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 January calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month.

As a reminder, AC for new characters accepted in December and January will be 10 comments across 2-4 threads, while current characters will need to provide the full AC of 20 comments across 2-4 threads. AC will be posted on January 20 and close on January 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

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[ Bruce nods. Figures the multiverse is just as much of a fucking headache as it was the first time he learnt about it. ]

I disagree.

[ But Jason's already putting the rest of that forward; Bruce listens, frowning. The youngest he'd last heard of was, ]

Damian, that's his name?

( there's a half nod, but also: ) Hafid al Ghul.

( here, anyway. which is what matters most presently. )

This is assuming you're not his you. Which, if you are, I'll be the one with fingers around your throat. As a heads up.

( a warning within a warning. it's super helpful, right. )

[ Bruce raises an eyebrow. Boy, think twice before you threaten your father. A moment later, there's a soft noise, like yeah right. ]

I stopped at two.

[ Which is a fact. Old resentment stews, Talia keeping his son from him. Nothing he can do about that from here, but join that with the current, irked feeling, take it out on some deserving criminal, some hapless punching bag. ]

( there's another meaning behind that. one that settles in jason's gut, tight. he remembers when he came back. when talia handed him pictures of tim--yet another kid tailing after bats in bright colors. remembers how much it hurt: not just that tim was there, but that it meant he had been a replaceable component. that bruce wouldn't even avenge his death, but he'd find a new robin easy. )

Stopped? How long's it been since the last one, B? Wasn't around, but I heard you were getting messier. Harsher.

How'd you know about Hafid?

[ Something flickers across his expression. He doesn't look away, it pierces Jason more steadily. ]

Not a concern.

[ There won't be any more. He'd justified it to his grief by saying Olympia and Wyver were safer — they were, there was no Bane, no Joker, nothing of that kind. Tim and Cass operated freely, under new guises. After all, the city hardly needed Bats. ]

[ The memory of how good it had felt, being with a partner, moves anticipated, solitude shared — that stays so closely guarded, made so small it may as well be invisible. His fondness for Tim Drake is not up for display here. ]

I've been briefed on the multiverse. It is possible, [ the word stings him, ] that you returned. But highly unlikely.

Yeah, it is a concern.

( a concern. he wasn't there, he doesn't know, but he knows why tim came to bruce: he was pushing limits, needed someone there beside him and dick was being a petty asshole and wouldn't be there for him. granted: bruce deserved the pettiness. but.

jason drops it for now, refocuses on other bits. )

Couldn't tell you what happened there. Dead one moment, trying my goddamn best to break out the coffin the next. Everything after's a mess--my head was fucked. Someone decided to throw me in the Pit, and well-- ( a sweeping gesture to himself. ) this's what came out.

[ It's not. he doesn't carry the brand. (Maybe he should.. for the worst of the scum, that abyss calls to him.) Bruce refocuses. ]

Talia.

[ Who just has a Lazarus Pit lying around? Bruce sighs, it's an audible sound in the room. He'd given it consideration, before the fever took hold fully — he wouldn't have known what would come out, to be brought back from so horrific an end. ]

And this was a few years ago.

[ He's looking at an adult, not the teenage son he lost. ]

Yeah. ( he remembers the pit like it was yesterday, still. remembers how it burned, how the liquid felt like it was crawling through his skin, burning out everything that remained under and replacing it with something--different. off.

there's a pause. his tongue slips between teeth, presses against the upper row. ) I'm twenty-three. We've--had issues. I came back angry. ( we were doing better until i fucked up, but he's not saying that. ) Angry that you didn't kill that fucking clown. Angry you replaced me. Hurt a few people I regret going after. Killed a lot more that I didn't regret.

( he's passed the line. dick's here, there's no point in hiding that it. )

I made my own name.

[ Bruce's eyes narrow. Killing is serious — how many punches did he throw, without caring that they caved in a chest. Where else did his madness and grief go but spread like a horror across Gotham? ]

[ If he closes his eyes again, expecting to wake up somewhere unfamiliar, he hopes it's in a clinic in Gotham, somewhere, and all of this has been a bizarre adventure he can write a report on and then go hunting. ]

What do you call yourself now?

Nothing. ( he's angry, sad. doesn't let it show. he remembers the weight of bruce's fist. remembers no more red hood. the feeling of fingers ripping into fabric, taking the bat right off his chest. )

I'm just Malone here.

Matches Malone.

[ What does it say that he finds it amusing, on some level? But his Robins always had a defiant streak he secretly approved of. Bruce doesn't choose those who don't challenge him. ]

Matches "Jay" Malone to people I don't hate. Short for James, my middle name.

( this is easier to talk about, isn't it. the grin returns, turns up the corners of his lips. )

Old man had a real sick sense of humor, y'know.

[ There's a soft heh in reply. ]

I can imagine.

[ It could be this easy. For a microsecond no hurt clouds him, for a moment, he is just talking to his son whom he hasn't seen in a long, long time. ]

[ Things are not this easy. ]

Anything else I should know?

( so much it would take jason longer than he reasonably has to go down the list. christ. a bruce who still thinks he's dead. )

You're fairly well-known. Little D's gotten rusty at keeping secrets. Been loud about some guy waltzing around in a fursuit menacing everyone. And that guy being his father.

Not an issue. I'm not his father.

[ He's been the Gray Ghost for a year. What's longer? Gotham needs the Batman, not Thesa, not here. He misses his armour, his second skin — tools can be remade. He doesn't have to call them by names or a theme. ]

No, but he's my baby brother. Dick's, too. People know that.

( a breath. a lift of his shoulders and then jason does move to step closer. moves towards bruce. )

So you're gonna have to decide who you're gonna be fast.

I know what I am.

[ A little clipped. He has always known purpose. Dick's name is a stumbling block, deployed so easily — his family — ]

I can be unaffiliated.

Wasn't like I was gonna start calling you Pops anyway.

( another step forward, into bruce's space. )

You'll have to pass on the message to the rest of 'em. Don't know if little D's gonna listen.

We'll see.

[ Only a name to go on, they all know how Bruce makes his assessments. ]

[ He pauses, then, supposes this is a kind of truce, ]

There was someone with me. Sword, shield, and magic lasso. Can't miss her.

Wondy, my favorite leaguer. ( the grin gets even bigger, spreads a little to his eyes. jason lets himself have a moment. )

Had a crush on her since I realized I had eyes. You should know that.

And I told you to think clean thoughts, chum.

[ A soft noise. ]

We were somewhere else before this dimension.

[ He doesn't like the idea of her out there, alone. ]

( chum. been a while since he heard that one. )

You're asking a little too much of me. I never think clean thoughts. ( somewhere else is.. concerning. ) This your second multiversal stop?

[ Been a while since he said it. He'd never tried to be a father, but a friend, a confidante — laughable, given how it all crumbled. He can never have it back. ]

It's not the first.

( he's still close, in bruce's space. and jason's leaning in even closer. lowers his voice a little. lets the grin slip away but his shoulders are still loose, unguarded. )

I don't know you. But I know my you. Don't fuck it up with Damian. He's going to see your face and expect you to be his father. No matter what I say to him. His universe is fucked to hell and back, and he doesn't--he doesn't need anything else breaking him down.

[ He's close. But they all always were, what is there but to let him in the space that always belonged to Jason? ]

I'm not here to hurt him.

[ That's the only promise he can offer. A boy he's never met, with pain he can't see the shape of. ]

But you know who I am.

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