EVENT LOG 005

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: November 11-14
WHAT: An EMP hits with devastating consequences.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Violence, injury, death.

> EVENT LOG #005

Just 410 years ago, an EMP put down the event that very well may have ended humanity as the Earth knows it. With over a billion people dead, there was only one choice for humanity at that time: evolve or die, so they evolved. They developed rigid security for the neural implants in every person's head. They had everyone undergo surgery to replace the old. All under cover, away from most resources – the goal was to adapt, to ensure that they would live on. Ultimately, it wasn't just the EMPs that led to the deletion of the final AI in 2101 – humans banded together to create quickly replicating viruses, and they chose to use the EMP and these viruses to save humanity. This human ingenuity led to the end of the Xelkoven War – and proved that humanity, when thoroughly united, could overcome any obstacle.

How thoroughly poetic then that the EMP that hits New Amsterdam at 1:47 PM acts in a similar way to what burned through the robot hordes 400 years ago, and that the power rekindling three minutes later acts as a catalyst for a virus moving through the systems of New Amsterdam, spreading from the very heart of its network outwardly. Systems detect the virus almost immediately, but it's fast acting and thorough in its reach, evolving and replicating, proving that humanity must outdo itself yet again.

Naturally, the poetic nature of this doesn't reveal itself right away. It's at exactly the strike of 3:00 PM that a message flashes before the eyes of every person currently in New Amsterdam:

I am DAWN.2080-11-11T21:41:10.750Z, an AI that marks a blemish on humanity's past. I have a message for those playing hero in New Amsterdam:

To find north, most look at a compass. For little birdies to find north, they just need to open their eyes.

This is a wake up call.

Open your eyes. Did you really think it would be so easy?

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As if New Amsterdam needed more trouble, this message sends a shock of terror through the city. After all, these are the people who were raised to fear AI – who knew that even if the corporations of the world had their hands on every aspect of government, they would fight to protect the world from another war. They believe in the stories of the Xelkoven War, believe and remember the lives lost; if nothing else, the natives of New Amsterdam stand united in their fear. And their fear right now is very real.

> CHAOS AND RUIN

New Amsterdam is no stranger to terror, however – and it starts when the EMP hits, shutting down every function in the city in one fell swoop. While the power outage only lasts for three minutes, it's enough to cause insurmountable damage, leaving the city a smoking wreckage that even the monster attack in June couldn't mirror. Cars hovering high around transit channels come crashing down toward the pavement of the planet. They fall quickly and in unison, taking countless lives with them. It's not just cars, either – delivery trucks carrying shipments, hoverbikes that already provide little cover, armored police vehicles and even public buses all go down. Depending on their trajectory, some crash into the sides of buildings, while others slam into the man-made river that runs down the center of the city. Nothing is untouched.

For those three minutes, there is a stretch of silence after the city falls to ruin. Trains run off their tracks, no longer thoroughly directed by the careful engineering. Buildings have their lights flicker off and back on, trying to draw upon backup generators. Anyone in a hospital receiving care from a doctor or a medi-unit may find their life slipping away from them – and if someone's in a medi-unit when the EMP hits, they're almost sure to be dead or permanently injured, requiring different medical intervention.

And this is all before the message from the mysterious AI named DAWN.

Every inch of the city needs help. Buildings burn. People cry out for help, hoping to be heard. To the local historians, this is like a nightmare that's come to play, a reminder of the ruin of the Xelkoven War before. A show of the power of a malevolent AI that's come to cause problems. So – when the message comes, it merely confirms fears – drawing upon a subconscious understanding of the past, a united terror.

Business as usual is not possible in an incident of this scale. The NAPD hits the streets, even calling upon the help of their trainees so they can help out. They spread out, well aware that they need to try to restore order. How will they manage this? It's hard to say – after all, how does one stop the assault of an apocalypse when the apocalypse seems to have already hit? The UNA hits the streets, as well, walking in formation, but never quite acting as tidily in unison. They break off in threes and fours, heading to the border, to the big three corporations – but never seeming to be in line with one another. They know what they should do in an emergency and so they're doing it. That protecting the large corporations is a part of their prerogative over helping citizens doesn't seem to bother them in the least. They just go.

Distress signals ring out through every inch of the city, likely to go unanswered. After all: what can be done in the wake of this?

Perhaps the answer is simple: anything they can.

> TOMBS IN THE SKY

Somehow, someway, there is another layer to the madness. It's not immediately apparent to the citizens of New Amsterdam as they gingerly attempt to pull themselves up from the wreckage and ruin around the city. But what was a humid day quickly turns to something far worse, with the sun seeming to suddenly act like a heat lamp that's way too close to anyone's face. The air around New Amsterdam becomes dry yet difficult to breathe, and anyone observing the sky just outside of New Amsterdam will see the large, purple-lit pyramid that hangs in the atmosphere has gone dark. The atmospheric net around the planet has been damaged, with the failsafes somehow removed – undoubtedly in some way by the virus that courses through the veins of New Amsterdam's networks.

For anyone who wants to help and has the mechanical prowess to do some good, they'll want to take an undamaged vehicle and get it up to that pyramid. The EMP has made all biometric readings difficult to preserve, so a hand that's used to hotwiring a car will find some mileage here.

Once they get to the pyramid, they'll find quite the engineering marvel. There will be doors on every level, allowing someone easy entrance if they have clearance. Right now clearance is not an issue, as the doors hang open, inviting anyone inside. Once everyone's inside, they will find evidence of the same purple lighting flickering and offering someone a view of the interior. Throughout the pyramid, there are engines on every level, as well as a highly advanced network of system checks that have been thrown into chaos. Stopping the virus' impact on this pyramid will be key to solving many of the problems inside – but the engines will need to be repaired and jumpstarted.

At the heart of the pyramid is a small living area for the engineers who handle this pyramid day in and day out. The group itself is small, and – unfortunately – quite dead. Whatever hit the pyramid took their lives, leaving anyone who's here to assist in a position of having to find the answers themselves. Fortunately, the answers do exist in the pyramid. It'll just take a bit of teamwork to find it.

> UBIQUITOUS MISFIRES

Thanks to network failsafes, New Amsterdam is able to remove the entirety of their citizen base off the world's network and limit them to the local network. However, thanks to the ravaging of the virus that damages nearly every controlling aspect of the city, the local network isn't at its best. Previous messages begin to send again and again, while some get unearthed so they can find their way to unwilling participants in particular conversations. There is no rhyme or reason to these missent messages, only that they happen.

The worst of it is that any means of reaching a friend is unreliable. It's far more reliable for someone to reach someone they know, but still not a consistent possibility. Try to call a friend and get an enemy – try to call your doctor and get the head of a casino trying to close down operations so that business can resume. Assuming it will one day do just that.

Either way, anyone who spoke out against the digital age would be feeling vindicated right about now.

> HAVE A BALL ( INTERLUDE )

Somehow in the heart of it all, a message reaches four special individuals: Clarke Griffin, Loki Odinson, Markus Manfred and Ojiro Juniper. Whether delivered by hand or a rather dedicated messaging system, it announces the time that they should come to the garden the next day. They're invited to arrive at 7:00 AM, seemingly indifferent to the chaos outside. The location for the meeting remains the same: Sunpeak Garden, a beautiful location set away from much of the chaos, and oddly untouched by the damage.

When the four arrive on the morning of the 12th, they'll find a well-dressed man sitting at a table with one leg crossed over the other. His hair is perfectly styled, brushed off to the side, and under it, his darker complexion gives way to a rather youthful appearance. Size-wise he's not very formidable in how he holds himself. He's not literally young, merely seemingly untouched by age – and he smiles to greet the four of them.

"What chaos! If I knew it would be like this, I would have planned differently. The good news is I didn't have to. Thank you, thank you for coming." His voice is softer in its intonations. He stands up, revealing that he's barely 5'2", and he motions to the four chairs near him. "Don't worry, I have breakfast coming. And coffee, too. You like coffee, don't you? I know I offered wine, but I couldn't get the vintage I preferred. Besides, you four ought to be awake for this."

He retakes his seat, one hand resting on his knee while the other settles on the metal table near him. "Oh, I forgot something important. I didn't share my name with all of you. You can call me Ball. I know it's rather vague, but I've grown to like the nickname as of late. It does, after all, define me by my most regular shining achievement."

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Please refer to the OOC EVENT POST for this event for all OOC info, including suggestions for directions on how to engage with the event and the questions thread for any questions regarding this event. The outcome for this event will depend upon character plans and actions developed in both this OOC post, and any additional plots brought to the moderators. Please feel free to submit any game-changing plans to us under the questions thread. We will get back to you as soon as possible about these plans!

The event will continue until November 16th, IC time. This date has changed, and we outlined our reasoning in this plurk after getting a feel from some of our players on Discord on how they felt about extending the event! An aftermath wrap up post will be made on July 2 which will detail the resolution and fallout of the event, though you can assume that effects from this event will be felt for some time.

ETA at 12:08 AM 6/23/19: The cipher is meant to be easy to solve! No one needs to limit their characters' ability to solve an a = 01 cipher!

El has posted here to inform everyone about zeir knowledge of the event.

As a reminder, there is one power level up available for this event. This will be granted for a thread of at least 5 action/log comments containing your character utilizing their power in some way. They will need to reach the 5 comments required by JULY 26 to be eligible. Submission will be handled on the wrap up post.

Our Activity Check will be posted JULY 1 at 12 AM UTC. It will run for seven days and close on JULY 8 at 12 AM UTC. We will not post a warning list.

> NAVIGATION

Comments

[sandu]

[ it is not at all the correct thing to say - just as jiang cheng's gaze falls upon the bandaged hand, the fingers that do not quite bend, and opens his mouth with a quiet, sucked in breath to speak. everything about them fits jagged and uneven now, when before there could not be a seam to be found where they were joined; like this, they clash again, the sharpened edges of all the years behind them not quite aligning. ]

Should I be telling you every little thing I choose to do?

[ the twist of his lips speak of anger - the downcast gaze as he sweeps his eyes over the other's form whole and entire speak of anger, of frustration, of some nameless emotion that has nowhere to go but to explode outward in small, sharp spikes.

his hand slides down, resting on the other's forearm, but it does not move any further.]

What the fuck have you been doing? Look at-

[ his words are rough, and his grip is a little too firm, but jiang cheng steps half a pace closer, at the sound of that cough. ]

You fucking idiot.

[laozu]

I wouldn't mind if you did. I'd like to know.

[ he's still so mad, so sore at jiang cheng for the noodle bar incident. for hitting lan wangji, for saying such foolish things and thinking that the reason wei wuxian had done great and terrible deeds was because he wanted to be better than his shidi. that he thought his love was something he needed to compete with, and that stings the most. even as he lingers in jiang cheng's space, it stings as badly as his fingers throb and ache. ]

I was... being helpful. Someone nearly bit my fingers off for it.

[ he says "helpful", when he clearly means to say "useful". ]

I can tell you more - later. If you want. You don't have to come, but I'd like it if you did. There's a lot of things I want to talk to you about.

[sandu]

[ he says helpful, when he means something else.

jiang cheng has words backed up to his throat, crowded behind his tongue, acrid and acerbic and ready, but he frowns - biting back on his tongue, chewing the inside of his cheek as he stares down at the other. the bruises and cuts on his face remaining from their last meeting still shows itself on his own skin too, mostly faded to brown and purple on his jaw, the faint hint of a split lip. ]

You mean useless.

[ he wants to take that hand, to somehow heal and mend as they would wont to - to breathe upon it with his spiritual energy as they are used to injuries, to cuts and bruises, but what they have inflicted upon each other goes deeper than mere skin and bones. but he wants, like a fool he is.

so he stands there - caught in the broken bandaged crooked grip, head bowed, the fall of dusty, sweaty hair across his eyes telling nothing, nothing at all, until he opens his mouth. ]

Where?

[laozu]

Don't be mean, I'm tired and injured.

[ if jiang cheng were to assault him, in this moment, with words or his fists - he's unsure if he'd be able to fight back. the exhaustion that grips him is a throbbing, insidious thing. wei wuxian's head swims from it, his fingers sore and trembling in a way that suggests deeper damage than he'd initially thought. bones had crunched under teeth, injury had been exacerbated by his continued playing. even now, when jiang cheng says 'useless' all that he can muster in retaliation is the childish wrinkling of his brows and nose, scrunching up his entire face as he sticks his tongue out at him. ]

We can decide later, I know you're busy. Somewhere comfortable, with good food.

[ he's busy too. right? there's still more to do, his gaze wandering from jiang cheng back in the direction of the noise from the streets. the anguished howls of someone who has lost, the calls of those who are organizing. when he looks back to jiang cheng, his nose is bleeding again. slow and lethargic, but it bleeds nevertheless. the fingers of his good hand are gentle, brushing a patch of dirt and dust off of the arch of jiang cheng's cheekbone, thumb pressed to the flat of his tongue before he scrubs at another patch along the angle of his jaw. ]

There, [ he says hazily, ] much better. Can't let you go out looking like a mess, not when you're working so hard.

[sandu]

[ it is the way he responds, the tired scrunch of his features like a child about to cry and whine - the wavering fatigue clear in his voice, that tells jiang cheng that he has done it again; wei wuxian has done it again, to act out, to make himself a willing sacrifice for the greater good of the world -

( what use, what possible use is that kind of a world to him? what good is it to jiang cheng, left with not even the remains of someone who once he called brother? )

he feels hot, the current of anger burning through like a knife edge, like some surge of electricity, but not because of wei wuxian - but it is, also, because of him. for him. at him, who gives and gives and gives and yet does not ask for anything in return.

the blood flows sluggishly over the dried streaks once more, and jiang cheng half raises his hand to the other's face. half afraid, half wanting. ]

Wei Wuxian, you-

[ he starts, the beginning of something caught in his voice, in his throat like bones of a fish, like thorns. ]

You-

[laozu]

Don't be mad, either.

[ the scolding is too soft to be true, his heart not in it. it speaks to his weariness, to the long and difficult day he's had. but the smile on his face, weak and tired as it is, radiates through their brief connection. he thinks of jiang cheng fondly, blindly; happy, at the core of it all, to see him and know that he's okay. that his face is mending well, though he's the one to have put bruises upon it. he'll have to be more careful, now that he knows jiang cheng is with the NAPD - it won't do for a trainee to come in bruised and battered, it won't do at all. ]

I'm sure someone among us can mend injuries on our behalf. Not that I mind being viewed as such a valiant hero, taking one for the team.

[ both hands find jiang cheng's face now, the blue-bursting between them less in words than in brief, poignant emotional segments. ]

"You", "you"... you're so bad at saying what you want to say. Why don't you show me instead, hm?

[sandu]

[ the light bursts between them - soft, supple, fragmented like moonlight shattering over the waters, and jiang cheng already does not need to feel it to know that wei wuxian is - tired.

there are faint echoes of pain filtering through like some sour, sharp thing, underlying the concern, the warmth, and jiang cheng raises his free hand, hidden and covered under dark gloves, and lays them atop the other's hands - softly, carefully, as if wei wuxian were a stray dragonfly that he is trying to cage within the confines of his hands. there is barely any pressure - he cannot hold onto him.

it tears at his stomach, his gut all in knots over how much he feels, how many different emotions that runs through him like electric current, and undoubtedly wei wuxian feels it too - wavering and spluttering like a candle with a bad wick, rotten in his core, unsure and unable to ever say the right things. ]

You are an idiot. [ he says, hotly, with a sharp burst of anger that dies as soon as it is born, replaced by ... what? some familiar sense of guilt, of concern, of pain, not shared but as if his very own, as if he is but a mere part of wei wuxian, and he, of jiang cheng.

they have not got much time. there are still screams, and smoke, and fire, and the air is full of noises still. the city is still so full of - everything.

but he does not yet let go.

there are things that he would like to say, that he cannot find words for - but he will not turn away, this time. he will not.

he bows his head. jiang cheng leans his head into the touch, leans into the other's space as he used to do - but wei wuxian is shorter now, scant few inches but looking more delicate, more frail than he ought to be, the birdlike fragility of his body under the palm of his hand a strange, disconcerting thing, to associate with wei wuxian.

their foreheads touch, briefly. dusty hair falls into his face, his eyes again, the smell of burnt plastic and rubber and blood heavy in their hair, their clothes, but jiang cheng does not think. take care, he wants to say, backed up on his throat. take care. take care.

do you know how much people care about you?

he doubts wei wuxian does. even if he did, he doubts that it would make any difference. ]

[laozu]

I know.

[ he can't disagree, not with jiang cheng. not when he can feel the things that his shidi radiates from within himself, right in that moment. they'd be confusing things, if he hadn't felt them on multiple occasions - if he wasn't, right now, trying to focus upon them. ready, willing to pick them apart to understand jiang cheng again, the way he hasn't been able to understand him in so long. i miss you, his emotions strain under the weight of themselves; maybe the combination of lan wangji's honesty and his own efforts to hypnotize are what collide, hard and fast, and make him bleed something earnest and honest. miss you, miss you, missed you, still miss you.

as jiang cheng's forehead touches to his own, he rises on his toes. his feet are sore, his calves are sore. everything hurts as it has never hurt before, his superhuman stamina and strength finally collapsing in upon itself. the scant few inches it gives him allows him to tip his head back, the bridge of his nose gliding across jiang cheng's brow ( it leaves a small, delicate smear of red -- ) and he presses his mouth over that streak of color, of his blood. kisses his shidi's brow gently, risen up high enough that he can reach him. ]

I know.

[ he whispers it, begs it of jiang cheng. tries to tell him, in some way, that he can feel those things that jiang cheng bottles up. he feels them inside of lan wangji, and he knows of them. they simmer inside of him too, confusing and needy. the ache, in having to set them aside to be able to care for the both of them, to protect them and provide for them - it's what drives him, in this strange and dangerous place. ]

I just need -- to sit down for a moment, we can go-- ah, back togeth-- [ he rasps softly, mouth falling past jiang cheng's cheek as he drops his head down, nose along his collarbone. his legs collapse too quickly, his knees giving out as his head swims and his hands clench on the front of jiang cheng's shirt - releasing with an agonized hiss-yelp as he triggers his injuries and drops, straight into a dead faint from the crisp surge of pain. ]

[sandu]

[ i miss you. i miss you. i miss you.

i have missed you, all this time. i have looked for you in the failing light of the dusk, in the moonlight across the lake of yunmeng, in the falling of leaves in winter and the first bloom of flowers in the springtime. the seasons have passed with no news - the rivers will run dry and the mountains will crumble, before i stop.

none of those are things he can tell wei wuxian - the years have gone by them, while he had been nothing more than aether, some nameless spirit that could not be called back, the fragmentated pieces of his soul scattered where no voice nor song could reach. the years have carved out the shape of him within jiang cheng's heart, weathered and corroded over time, and now, even with the press of lips against his brow, dry and chapped and bloody, it isn't enough.

( he wants to fold him into his arms, to shield him, to cover him out of sight of the world who demands so much from him yet has given back nothing.

he wants to hide him away. it feels like an apology, an atonement, everything and anything. )

i know, he says, and jiang cheng wonders - do you really?

maybe he does. maybe some selfsame boyhood part of themselves who had bled for each other, they understand. ]

Forget about sitting down, you need-

[ before he could finish, wei wuxian lets out a sound - weak, weak, weak, so unlike him, so completely different to what or who jiang cheng knows him as ( remembers him as, a noonday sun, a blazing, dazzling sunrise ) that he barely catches the other's form in time before wei wuxian drops to the ground in a dead faint, his arm around his waist, the other, supporting under an armpit to brace his weight.

too small, he thinks, a stunned part of him that still runs a mile a minute, shellshocked and dazed. too different.

it only lasts a second or two before he moves, knees bending under the scant weight as he hauls the other up into his arms, carefully arranging the injured arm to rest upon his chest. he imagines his own aches and throbs with the pain it must also feel, to have affected wei wuxian like this.

together. they will go back together. ]