ARRIVAL LOG 012

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: A research outpost not far from New Amsterdam proper
WHEN: November 22
WHAT: The twelfth arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Body horror, general horror, experimentation on animals and humans, violence, etc.

> ARRIVAL LOG #012

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. Murmuring voices saying indistinguishable words. There's fleeting memories of something else, too: an accident, and the pain that followed. Chaos, the echoing noise of gunshots overhead, and the cold sensation of your body going into shock. None of it can be grasped onto in any detail, the flashes of memory more like a fading dream than any real recollection.

When you fully awaken, you'll find your movements to be weighed down and heavy, your body struggling to respond the way that you want it to. Your hair is grown out, perhaps even past its usual length, but not maintained in any way, and you're wearing a hospital gown. The room around you is small and sparsely furnished. There's a bed, the one you woke on, along with a desk pushed against the adjacent wall, but no other distinguishing features. It feels, somehow, that you have been here for a while -- even if you can't put any of the memories together.

As soon as you leave the room, you'll find that your sense of something being very wrong is proven correct. You exit into a dark hallway. There are other doors lining said halls, most of them leading into rooms similar to the one you just left. The area you're in seems to be some sort of dormitory wing, intended for the people who work here, though for now none of those people can be found. Sometimes lights will flicker up and down the maze of halls, but the facility remains dark, and for the most part, quiet. Is it the middle of the night, or is this place completely abandoned? Soon enough you'll come across others like you: wearing only a hospital gown, confused, lost, barefoot.

Unfortunately, it turns out that you're not the only ones here. There's a loud blaring noise that rings through the halls, and somewhere in the facility, a door is unlocked and the proverbial floodgates are opened. At first it won't be clear what happened, but then you'll hear them: scrabbling claws, guttural growls, the thundering approach of creatures that want nothing more than to feed.

They might round a dark hallway and leap, claws extended, or burst out of the vents to wrap around you, fangs ready to sink in. They're twisted, grotesque creatures, but one thing that all of them have in common is their golden glow and eyes. It will take smarts, strength, or speed to survive. Killing them is an option, but without any weapons or your usual powers, it might not be as simple of a task as it once was. Running and hiding is an option, too. There is a new power you've been granted — maybe the stress of the situation will allow you to discover it sooner rather than later. Or maybe with enough teamwork, you can all find a way out.

But don't worry: help is on the way.

> INTO THE WOODS

Instead of the usual head's up from El, the Displaced receive a very different kind of message to tell them of a batch of newcomers who need their assistance:

@100342
Well, well, well, I'll save the trivial "nice to see you again" for later, as it's time to put yourselves together and go. Funny story, a bunch of your pals have been located somewhere outside the city. I know what you're going to ask: How do I know? Let's just say I have some access to points that usually lay beneath the radar to keep it friendly.
Since I was feeling generous, I left you a gift to bring them back. The best part is that you don't have to drive, the worst part is that if you miss it, it'll be gone and you'll be SOL.
Don't be late, or there won't be much to salvage.

Along with the message, all of the Displaced will receive a GPS pin and a warning that they're on the clock. They'll need to reach their destination before 1900 hours or they'll be left behind, and when they arrive at the place in question, they'll see why. It's a boarded-up entrance to a subway station, one that seems to have been out of commission for some time now. Once they break their way in and walk down the stairs into the abandoned station, they'll find that there's a train waiting for them.

How did it get here when most of the public transit is still down? How is it functional? Why hasn't anyone noticed this on a map before? Who knows, but the Displaced will be able to board, and as soon as it hits 1900 hours the train will shudder into movement. There are no announcements to let them know where it's going, so they'll simply have to wait it out.

As it turns out, the train takes them all the way out of the city. When it reaches the city gates, it's let through with no incident, and then it continues on its journey, winding a path through the wooded area that at least a few of the Displaced have explored before. When it finally comes to a stop about an hour and a half later, they'll be let off at an outpost. They're miles out of the city now, too far to easily walk back, and before them lies an unmarked building. On top of that, the train keeps going without them. For the moment, everyone's stranded.

They'll be able to get inside the building with little trouble, as it's from this research outpost that the new set of Displaced will need to be collected. By the time that they arrive it's late into the night so it might not be surprising that the place feels abandoned, but it won't take long to realize there's a commotion. A pack of genetically altered animals have been unleashed on the Displaced who woke up here, so they'll need to help everyone get out in one piece and then figure out a way back to the city.

Some notes about the research lab and these monsters:

◉ The building is six stories tall. The first floor has a lobby/waiting area, a cafeteria, and some office spaces. The second floor is the dormitory floor, which is where the employees would usually sleep if they chose to stay at the facility while working rather than returning to the city in between shifts. This is where the new arrivals woke up. Floors three through five are dedicated to lab spaces, which is where the actual research work is usually done. Most of these laboratories are going to be locked, but that won't stop Displaced from breaking into them if they want. Some of the lab rooms also have exam rooms, rooms with gurneys, stacked and locked cages (some even holding sedated monsters), and other evidence that both people and animals were being experimented on here. Displaced will be able to swipe lab equipment and medical supplies, such as syringes, vials/beakers, first aid supplies, scalpels, bandages, multi-lens microscopes, etc. The top floor is dedicated to offices for higher-ranked scientists, so think of it as the C suite. All floors also have bathrooms, of course, and the dormitory wing also has showers.

There are also a few rooms which might be of interest to the Displaced. These will all be locked tight and will have to be opened through brute force, as they won't respond to any of the Displaced's implants. Of course, a locked door doesn't always mean that there's no way through, especially for this bunch — breaking the locking mechanism, brute force, or even finding a control mechanism are some ways the Displaced can get inside. As for what's beyond these doors:

◈ An operating room. It's clean and emptied out, but the consoles, surgical tools, and lighting make it obvious that surgeries are performed here.
◈ A room that holds in-progress experimental subjects. Some of the animals look almost normal, while others are further along in their mutations, but all of them are sedated and either held suspended in fluid pods or kept in cages. It's possible they could be woken up with enough effort, but why would you?
◈ A morgue. This is where all of the discarded animals and yes, even scientists are kept. It's essentially a dumping ground for failed experiments. The corpses are in sliding drawers as you would expect from any morgue, but opening these drawers will reveal disturbing monstrosities. Some of them are humans, but only barely recognizable given that they've been ripped limb from limb. Others are various animals twisted into impossible positions, or with added appendages/defects. These are experiments where the mutations didn't enhance them, but made it so they could no longer survive.

◉ The monsters who are attacking have the same golden glow and eyes that some of the Displaced have already seen, but they are not the same ones. They look like different kinds of animals that have been spliced with monster DNA, and that DNA has warped them into different forms. Here are a few examples of the monsters, though you are also welcome to come up with other types based off of what we've already outlined:

◈ A large snake, except that it also has four small legs (two near the front of its body, two near the back) which allow it to skitter around rather than slither, making it much faster than any snake has a right to be. It's large and strong enough to strangle its victim, making it difficult to remove by a single person. Don't let it unhinge its jaw, it's got way too many teeth.
◈ A hyena-creature with impressive amounts of agility, due to the fact that it seems like almost all of its joints are double-jointed. It can turn its head almost completely around as well, making it an extremely skilled hunter. Its fangs protrude from the top of its mouth in rows of three like a shark. Even if it's disemboweled or it loses a limb, this creature will still continue to attack in a frenzy.
◈ A stag beetle, except that it's the size of a medium-sized dog. It's still able to fly and its pincers can do damage if it's allowed to get too close. Worse than that, they tend to move in swarms of three or four. Beneath the hard shell are human-like eyes with dilated pupils that follow shadows and light.
◈ A humanoid creature that stands on two legs. Its eyes glow in the dark, catching bits of light from a distance. Upon closer inspection, the creature has snake-scale skin, a long, flickering tail, and claws for hands. These scales are incandescent in nature, shimmering whenever they're underneath enough light.
◈ A sloth-like mimic that cries from a distance for help from hidden, high places. Once it hears a voice, it can mimic it, drawing someone in toward it due to it sounding like another Displaced. Getting too close will leave them within reach of the creature that's all arms and little else, leaving a toxic and poisonous trap to weaken its prey. Its hiding places include the rafters, where it may drop on those looking for their friends. Under certain lights, the slothly creature's eyes are humanoid in appearance, sharp and aware — yet still gold.
◈ Humanoid creatures that give off a thick, putrid smell of decay. Not unlike zombies, they move sluggishly, but upon closer inspection, it appears that something is off about these people. They have claws, sharp rows of teeth, and skin that flakes off with every shuffle of their feet. Potentially some early or later stage experiment of the snake-skinned humanoids. They're highly aggressive and will follow someone with the intention of attacking until they're incapacitated.
◈ A cross-breed insect that looks like a mix of a wasp and a mosquito, but is only the size of a dime. Its sting can draw out a large amount of blood, sedating the individual. The toxin that they inject will leave large, red welts, depending on the efficiency of the immune system. They're blotchy and painful. Once they have found a target, they will swarm around that individual all at once.
◈ A naked creature resembling a dog with a reptile's body, with patches of hair. This creature has long rows of crooked fangs protruding from its lips, mouth and tongue, with a large, dilated eye. It has sharp scales on its back to keep it from being touched, but it has a thirst for blood. This creature will attempt to surprise its prey from around corners, jumping onto someone's shoulders with hopes of sticking to them and drawing blood like a reptilian tick.

◉ These monsters will move through the vents in the building and up and down the stairwells, but they can be killed like any other creature. Or hidden from, if you want to go cry in a bathroom stall or something.

Once the newbies have been collected and taken outside, the Displaced will have to decide if they want to try and get back to New Amsterdam on foot or wait to see if a train arrives back at the stop. The train will return 24 hours after it originally dropped the Displaced off to return everyone to the city, though they won't get any indication of that other than a cryptic hint from Cassius.

Have fun camping, hiking, waiting it out in the building barricaded somewhere, or whatever else you decide to do!

A final note for characters who have been in Meadowlark from the first arrival log (Bobbi Morse, Clarke Griffin, Kylo Ren, Loki, Ojiro Sniper, Rey, Stephen Strange): You are free to have your character recognize any of the newcomers as having been on the bus crash during that first log, if you want! Have these characters been kept in this facility all this time?

For new characters, all of your characters were "present" during the very first log, but either injured to the point that they couldn't trail after the first bunch to the safehouse, or killed during the initial crash and resulting fire fight. We'll leave whichever it is up to you, though your character will not remember the circumstances beyond the vague recollections alluded to at the start of this log. For now, all signs point to them being in captivity after that first crash was cleaned up and swept under the rug.

> NEW AMSTERDAM

Eventually, the Displaced will all make it back into the city one way or another. What the newcomers will find is a city that is very much in recovery mode. There was a recent disaster that has left the city badly damaged and killed people in the hundreds of thousands. For their first few days the new characters will be confined to the safehouse (more on that below), but after that they'll be let out to explore the city as they wish.

◉ Relief efforts. Given that the city is still trying to rebuild and will be for some time, many of the Displaced have already thrown themselves into helping, whether through their normal jobs or by pitching in with the relief organization called PRESERVE. Everyone can pitch in with delivering supplies, escorting people who've lost their homes to relief centers, furnishing and repairing shelters, and so on. Unfortunately, only a few trains are in working order, so getting around is going to be more difficult than it would be normally. Hope you don't mind walking!

◉ Golden-eyed animals. While they're not like the monsters in the research outpost, there will be animals with golden eyes who've somehow found their way into the city. This is noteworthy given that animals are very rarely seen in a megacity. They're not aggressive, and if anything they seem sickly. Some of them look like strange chimeras, like two or three different animals mashed together. Others have too many limbs or eyes. Either way, they will die within a few days of arriving, so it's also possible to stumble on strange corpses scattered around.

◉ All Star game. It's not all doom and gloom, thankfully. The city is trying its best to pull itself up by its bootstraps and carry on despite all the tragedies, which means that the annual soccer All Star Game is still on. Near the sports stadium there will be stalls selling food and merchandise, bands performing, and so on. It's not a full-blown festival the likes of which New Amsterdam is known for, but it is a place to swing by if anyone needs a break.

Please refer to the Setting and Locations posts for more ideas of what the city has to offer, and you can also check out the Aftermath Post from the last event and the July Calendar if you want a better idea of what's going on in New Amsterdam!

> SAFEHOUSE

Located under an abandoned hover-bike garage, access to the safehouse is a hatch in the floor beside a rusted set of metal shelves that used to hold tools and supplies. The immediate area is similarly abandoned: full of rundown and dilapidated warehouses and forgotten businesses, where numerous people squat in hopes of having some stability because they can't afford a place themselves.

◉ The safehouse is a large space with multiple rooms for storage, with the largest of the rooms 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.

◉ There is a mini-bar set up in the kitchen. The quality of the alcohol inside is akin to what someone might get from the well, but it's well-stocked.

◉ It can be assumed that new arrivals will be told that any requests or queries can go through El for the time being; Gaby is currently not available.

◉ New characters will be given rudimentary access to the network upon arrival in the safehouse, whether they had their ID set up by Cassius or they still need it set up by El. They will be able to make posts and replies, but their messages will be anonymous and they do not have inboxes yet. El will restrict widespread internet access while ze reviews everyone's preset backgrounds or reviews what's already in place. Once El has set up IDs — or revised/retained Cassius's work, the newbies will be free to go. See the comment below to learn more about this!

◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until NOVEMBER 26 (JULY 21). 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 — or review the ID that was set up by Cassius. We have another option for IDs this log which will be explained in a comment below; it's opt-in!

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to Meadowlark, newbies! You're now free to post to the network and logs comms. To reiterate, your characters will not be allowed out of the safehouse until NOVEMBER 26 (JULY 21). 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 had job potentials reviewed with El in order for their false IDs to be set up.

If you would like your character to have a wildly inappropriate background or incredibly unique setup by Cassius, please comment to the background review below! Since Cassius has a different set of accesses and resources available, he'll be able to provide a different path for your character. This background does not need to be accurate to your characters' skill set — in fact, it's more likely that it wouldn't because Cassius is a troll that way. El will try to revise it into working order, but ze can only do so much.

If you have any questions or ideas about how you'd like to get your character involved in the world, 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 July calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month, as well as some additional notes from the mods.

As a reminder, AC for new characters accepted in July 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 August 1 at 12 AM UTC and close on August 8 at 12 AM UTC. 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

QUESTIONS

[larkers]

CASSIUS BACKGROUND REVIEW OPT-IN

[larkers]

For new arrivals, please comment here if you would like Cassius (a mysterious AI responsible for the last event log) to fit your character with a wildly inappropriate background or incredibly unique setup based on what he has access to. You can also suggest your own setup if you want! No high-level jobs like CEOs, etc. would be possible but we're willing to try and work with you, or come up with something for you ourselves. El will possibly make adjustments once everyone returns to the safehouse, but we'll sort that out with you too.

Jonathan Sims | The Magnus Archives

[end_recording]

A. Monsters

Jon thinks he might actually be having a nightmare. A proper nightmare made by his own sleeping mind rather than the ineffable entity that now governed his existence. The novelty of it makes him push his body to move passed its stupor into the hall. Outside, he only makes it a few paces before he hears unnatural, scrabbling movement: He doesn't have a chance to go looking or even form a hypothesis before the hyena monster rounds the corner. The acid wash of adrenaline makes Jon very quickly aware he's not asleep at all. —That aside, he's long past dreaming about monsters that actually look like monsters. It's far too pedestrian for his mind to have made up.

Jon stumbles back to his room, slamming the door closed just as the hyena creature barrels into it. Screaming rarely helps; Jonathan knows this with precise, statistical certainty. But on very rare occasions it is the difference between life and death, and in most instances it is really the only thing you can do. Bracing his back against the door and clutching the handle he starts yelling at the top of his lungs. After the first rusty croak, his voice rolls out sonorously in a thickly British accent.

"Help—! Help me! Martin! Basira! I'm here—" His voice falters, lost for breath. He inhales impatiently, swallowing past the mad beating of his heart as the creature rattles the door with its weight. "Help!"

B. After Monsters/The Train (CW wounds/medical)
Jon would never be lucky enough to escape danger without a bit of mauling. At some point he had been gashed in the thigh during all the scuffing. Back at the platform he collapses into a chair and starts to gingerly unpeel the blood-soaked bandaged, scowling when the wound still looks fresh. This should have healed by now: that was supposed to be part of whole being a spooky monster Healthcare package. Did his regenerative abilities only work when it was inconvenient for him? Ludicrous as that might be, he couldn't entirely discount it.

Jon's a distinctive looking person. An Indian man in his early thirties, exhaustion and the grey streaking through his overgrown dark hair making him look older. Dappled all over him—his face, neck, both arms, legs left bare by the hospital gown—are perfectly circular dime-sized scars, a shade paler than his dark skin. The back of his right hand is stripped with a thick burn scar that heads to his palm.

Later, on the train, Jon is too jittery for unconsciousness. Wearily, he'll flag down a passer by. "I don't suppose you have any cigarettes on you?"

C. The Safehouse
Back at the safehouse, Jon can be found laughing over a box of freeze-dried grasshoppers. He sounds a bit hysterical.

((If you're interested in a different scenario, let me know! praecipitanter; Discord Leigh#8762. I can also switch to small text!))

roxas | kingdom hearts | spoiler warning for iii

[recompleted]

into the woods;

[The first thing that Roxas feels, when the disorientation fades to the point that he can feels anything, is fear. And he knows it's fear, because he has a heart that's real and strong and his own now, and his heart is telling him that something is extremely wrong. The last thing he remembers—he'd been in those badlands, hadn't he? The Keyblade Graveyard, Axel had called it. (Really cheerful, but still better than wherever he is now.) He'd watched Sora turn to go after Kairi, and had known he'd make it because his Other always did, and that was all.

...so why does he feel like there's more? Like something awful happened, loud and painful and not recent. How long has he been here? He runs a hand down his face, and pauses, moving it up when it doesn't brush past messy spikes that should be hanging down.

Someone cut his hair?

The blaring sound cuts off his train of thought and also covers up his yelp, prompted by the deep, painful burning sensation that comes instead of the Keyblades that he'd instinctively tried to summon. He tries again, and if there's no sound that's only because the pain is worse, enough to take his breath away. Roxas drops to his knees—and that's when he hears another sound, quieter but worse, a scrabbling sound and animalistic growls. For some reason, it suddenly gets dimmer in the room, almost fully dark, and that's probably why the hyena-looking thing doesn't attack when it enters the room, just darts its head around, searching, before dashing back into the hall.

He goes very still for a very long time. When he moves again, he knows three things for certain. He's in danger here; he has no way to defend himself; and he needs to get moving. So he does. The second problem, at least, he solves when he finds a bathroom, desolate as the rest of the place, and manages (with a lot of effort and a lot of quiet, frustrated muttering) to pry a pipe from beneath the sink. Gripping it firmly, he makes his way forward from there, staying low and hugging the wall. The shadows seem to follow him, lending a constant, creepy dimness to the air, but he doesn't question it.

Eventually, he hears something other than the sound of monsters. There are footsteps, a different kind of movement—was someone else left here too? Or is this one of the people who took him here? He could ask, but losing the benefit of surprise would mean offering more trust than Roxas is willing to give.

He steps around the corner, and swings.]

safehouse;

[Roxas doesn't know what to think of this place. He's been to other worlds before, sure. That isn't anything unusual. But it was always by choice, and if he didn't always have his memories, he at least knew how he got there. This is...he doesn't even know. He misses Axel and Xion with a painful yearning that's worse because he just got them back and now they're gone again. And he's not sure how to work off his frustrations when he can't even fight something with the Keyblade because that's gone, too.

So he does what's expected of him, even if he doesn't feel anything like real trust for their hosts. He goes to pick out some clothes and wrinkles his nose at the selection, glancing sideways to see if any of the other new guys have found anything good.]

This stuff sucks.

[He feels minutely better when he finds a jacket with a hood.

Later, when he gets hungry, he makes his way to the kitchen—only to that someone else is already there. He's not sure if he's disappointed or not.]

Oh, hey. Sorry to bother you.

[He isn't really, but he has a vague notion that that's the polite thing to say, and he might as well try for polite, for now.]

new amsterdam;

[When they're allowed to leave, Roxas makes a beeline for anywhere-but-here immediately. He hasn't been so confined in a long time, and he's got a deep urge to get the lay of the land—to perform recon, in a way. He guesses some habits are hard to break. Lost in his thoughts, he bumps shoulders with someone else when they're near the door, then nods for them to go ahead.]

I don't suppose you have any better idea of where to go than I do, huh?

choose your own adventure;

[I'm up for plenty of non-prompt stuff too! Feel free to make your own scenario or contact me via PM or at effervescible to talk possibilities. Also, as Roxas has instinctively activated his light/darkness manipulation power, he is accompanied by his own personal shadowy survival horror atmosphere in the nearby vicinity—feel free to notice!]

illya kuryakin (tmfu) ota

[kgbs]

▶ 01. INTO THE WOODS.

---

[ in the aftermath of the emp blast, illya had almost forgotten that there were probably going to be new people arriving. it would have been nice if whatever was taking people gave them one month off to recover from all that had happened.

but, it was not to be and now he was standing in a rather decrepit building, listening to things move and slither around. it's really quite unsettling.

he's standing in front of a locked door that he's tried to open with some basic strength but he knows what he has to do. he closes his eyes and thinks of a few certain things that brings the anger to him easily.

from there, it's a matter of kicking the door several times until it splinters and falls apart. and then he steps in and stops cold. ]

What...is this?

[ there are things in this room, things that look alive but in some sort of mid experimental state. he actually cringes because some of these things look absolutely horrible. ]

What are they doing to these things?

[ nothing in the room answers so illya takes a few steps closer to one of the experiments to confirm they are alive. behind him, he can hear things converging, creatures that might not exactly like him being in this room.

illya turns and squares up, waiting for whatever might be coming. ]

▶ 02. RELIEF EFFORTS.

---

[ it's almost a comfort to be back in a city that is at least familiar. new amsterdam is rife with its own issues but there are no terrible experiments out where he can see them.

he falls into helping where he can. today, he's helping repair a wall in a shelter where a vehicle had plowed through. it's slow going because there aren't enough people on this particular job and being angry isn't going to particularly help.

but, he pushes himself to get it done and if he is the only one, so be it. the heat beats down and dampens the ends of his hair with sweat but he'll keep going until the job is done. ]

▶ 03. WILDCARD.

---

[ feel free to toss another scenario at me for hmu at spoonishly for plotting. ]

The OA | The OA | OTA

[hierophante]

i. calm before the storm

That between-space, the imperfect oblivion, feels in a way like going home. OA floats in it, in that deep-sea black, weightless, aimless, meaningless. Lifeless. Dark recollections menace the horizon of her half-consciousness like predatory things, black on black, too indistinct to see and too fleeting to catch. All manner of things swim in the recesses of her memory, and plenty of them have teeth. That’s familiar too. What she wakes to isn’t.

It’s muddy at first, too slippery to grasp, the greater-than-contextual wrongness. The bodied wrong, beyond even the sluggishness of her limbs, the lingering weakness, that disconnect between intention and action. She spent years honing that connection, marrying intention to movement in a way more intricate, more intimate than can be accounted for by conscious thought; the distinction between then and now is obvious and disorienting, almost more so than the setting in which she finds herself.

In spite of the gown, it isn’t a hospital bed. That’s the first thing she notices, and it’s what stops her from calling out, because it too feels half-familiar in a way that sends dread pooling in the pit of her stomach. It doesn’t feel like a room and she doesn’t feel like a patient – it feels like a cell and she like a prisoner. She struggles fumblingly to her feet, furious with her limbs for their clumsiness. Fear. That’s fear. She can forgive herself the reflex but she still can’t forgive the reality, not until she makes it to the door and finds it unlocked. That the hallway is deserted and dark doesn’t matter: it’s more room to move, more room to breathe. OA allows her head to fall against the doorframe with a thunk, closing her eyes and taking in a slow, shuddering breath.

With agonizing, slow gracelessness she ties the gown as tightly about herself as she can and begins making her way down the hall, the fingertips of one hand feeling along the wall alongside of and just in front of her, more out of reflex than necessity. The dry scuff of her bare feet against the floor seems intrusively loud in such a bizarrely empty place. She moves through it tentatively, door after closed door empty, until it isn’t.

She freezes as another door creaks open, another lost soul in a hospital gown emerges into the hallway. Their eyes meet and OA knows how she must look: shellshocked, deer in headlights, though who could blame her? Given this new interloper’s manner of dress, though, they must find themselves in similar straits, and that makes the encounter instantly less frightening.

OA opens her mouth to speak, heart in her throat, and the alarm blares – she claps her hands over her ears and squeezes her eyes shut, hunching over herself until it’s gone and she can unfold into the new silence.

“Do you know where we are?” she asks in an urgent whisper, drifting closer to her new companion. “I can’t remember... I can’t remember what happened; I don’t know how I got here.”

ii. into the dark

The air is sharp and cold in OA’s lungs as she plunges into the dark. She can hear them behind her, the... things, the creatures, whatever they are – they aren’t right on her tail, but they’re in pursuit, and that knowledge is good. She holds onto it; it’s what she needs. The other thoughts – the desire to lean into the impossibility of all of this, to allow it to become unreal – won’t serve her. This is real. It’s happening. She can consider the whys and wherefores if she survives it.
With the sound of her own breathing ragged in her ears, distracted by the distant (not distant enough) sound of the creatures scrabbling and snuffling through the halls, she makes a mistake. Probably a lot of mistakes – there will be time to enumerate them later – but the biggest is to restrict herself to what she knows. She’s running, they’re chasing. What’s ahead of her is dark and that makes it easier to discard. She doesn’t reach into it, doesn’t listen ahead, and that’s what sends her hurtling blindly around the corner and into a near collision. She veers, losing purchase, and slips, falling onto the tile with a grunt of pain, but she’s on her feet again swiftly.

“Shit! Not that way,” she hisses urgently, gesturing to the person into whom she’d nearly run. “We have to keep moving.”

iii. waiting for a train

In the immediate security of the station, exhaustion slams into her like a wave. With nothing in the immediate vicinity to fight or from which to flee, the adrenaline flooding OA’s system seeps away, leaving her trembling. She realises abruptly that she’s cold, probably has been since she’s awakened but can only now feel it. Drawing the flimsy gown tighter about her helps not a bit but she does so anyway, pacing sluggishly to keep awake, to keep her blood flowing.

That she now has the space to consider her predicament isn’t much of a boon. Where is she? Never mind the... creatures, the monstrosities; this is nothing like the place she left and that should shock her, but it doesn’t. Maybe because she can’t conceptualize it yet, maybe because it doesn’t feel real. One of her hands finds her face as she walks, fingers tracing its shape – same as it ever was, shape and structure and texture entirely recognisable. But her hair, her hair is longer. She’d noticed that.

She paces. Everything, everything is changed. But her? Has she been? How long has she been out? What’s been done to her? Where are the others? Khatun had said amnesia was one of the side-effects of travel; is that what had happened? Has she jumped? Is it real? Or is she, somehow, dead? Is this the world she’d seen before, in her second NDE, that barren place with the strange, mechanical birds flying the sky?

OA stumbles to a stop, face contorting as if with pain, and squeezes her eyes shut. It’s too much. She thinks she must be in shock and it’s too much. She buries her face in her hands, retreats into her personal darkness.

“Breathe,” she murmurs to herself, heedless of anyone else who might be listening in. “Just breathe. Be here. All you can know is what you have in front of you now.”

iv. wildcard!
(( Feel free to throw me a curveball or request a tailored starter! I can be reached at v__ or viveri#0501 if you want to plan something out. ))

steve rogers | open

[shield]

> WAKING UP / MONSTER CHASE

[ History repeats itself. The English language is ripe with truisms regurgitated so often that their meaning is never really communicated, but this is the rare exception that has earned its lasting power. The circumstances of Steve Rogers' life have meant that, unlike most people, he can never forget it. But sometimes he still has to try.

For his own sanity, Steve gives himself a moment to mentally catalog the various differences of this experience. Unlike the last time he woke up feeling this disoriented, the strange room doesn't appear to be an elaborate set-up to trick him. The moonlight faintly illuminating the room is not an illusion of artificial lighting and set pieces; he stuck his head out the window to make sure. There is a desk in the corner but no radio playing an outdated baseball game to lull him into a sense of the familiar. No agent disguised as a friendly nurse comes to check on him.

Not all of the differences are comforting. The hospital gown he woke up in would look out of place in 1945, yes, but it wouldn't fit any better in 2016. He isn't even sure what fabric it's made of. The room isn't dilapidated but it also isn't state-of-the-art new. He guesses between 1-2 decades of wear on some of the furniture, but none of it looks in line with trends from the late nineties and early aughts. And sure, he was letting his hair grow out more than ever before, bu it still wasn't this long. Those thoughts aren't helpful right now, so for the time being Steve lets himself hang on to the things that reassure him and ignore the things that don't.

When Steve first woke, getting out of bed was like trying to walk underwater. His limbs didn't want to listen, his knees buckled under his weight. He had to brace himself against the wall and take in a few breaths before he could move. But by the time he pokes his head into the hall, he feels physically much closer to normal. Emotionally, he feels more like the raw sting of a fresh wound, and although he is perfectly balanced the world looks askew.

He moves slowly down the hallway, but despite several attempts to refocus, his thoughts are too scattered to take anything in. A loud noise stops him in his tracks and he cranes his neck toward the overhead vent, where someone is trying to pound their way out. Or more like something, he realizes when a claw-like appendage carves a slice out of the metal panel. He gets just enough time to jump back before the rest of the creature bursts through. Hovering in the air, it charges after Steve with what he now sees are two very large pincers.

At first, he thinks he can manage to dodge those pincers so long as he keeps moving, but soon the creature has him backed against the wall and his range of motion is limited. He ducks down at the last second and the pincer stabs into the drywall. Then Steve jumps up behind the creature and uses his body weight to flatten the large insect against the wall. Its hard exoskeleton crunches against the tile when it hits the floor. Steve leans back against the wall to steady his breathing.

Something disturbs the air. A fluttering sound, again coming from above. He looks up and watches one, two, three more identical creatures fly out of the vent and set after him. This time, he just starts running. The insects are fast flyers, but Steve knows he can lose them, he just needs to keep moving.

It's a decent plan, but it won't help the human-shaped silhouette he just noticed further up the hall.

God, he hopes they speak English here. ] Hey, run! Run the other way!

> INTO THE WOODS

[ Steve stands outside, his toes digging into the cool dirt as he paces back and forth. Some of the people from inside, the ones wearing hospital gowns like Steve's, are trying to get answers from the others. The so-called Displaced. But not all of the Displaced are fielding questions. A few are talking amongst themselves and Steve has been able to eavesdrop enough to put together the main points. There was a train but no one seems to know when it will return. If it will return. They could try walking back but it's dark out and the train ride wasn't exactly short.

Steve could make it back on foot. It won't be pleasant without shoes, but it wouldn't take long for his feet to heal. The only problem is that he doesn't know the way back. But he only needs to convince one of the Displaced to make the trek back with him. Just one person and then he can keep moving. He can do something proactive instead of standing out here, pacing in the dirt and trying not to think about how everyone keeps calling this city they're trying to get back to New Amsterdam. ]

Excuse me, [ he calls, coming up behind a few of the Displaced. ] If anyone is planning to walk back, I'd like to come.

> WILDCARD

( Choose your own adventure or hit me up via PM or at cosmology to plot. )

DANTE | DEVIL MAY CRY

[redload]

A. WAKING UP (NEWCOMERS)

[dante doesn't like tumbling out of sleep like he's been in it against his will. with every step on the cold floor, feet bare, dante's senses start picking up from the heavy, hazy status he had woken up in. it's slow-going, and he takes a while looking about to notice just how strange and out of place this is to what he remembers last: the demon world—hell, literally—a smell of hot garbage, gore, and a menacing presence throughout its expanse. the room he was stuck in small in comparison to what the hallway he's stepped into gives an inkling to. it's quiet and dark, a foreboding feeling raising the hairs at the back of his neck.]

[the sound of his blade rings in his ears still, what feels like a faraway memory, reminding him that he doesn't have the devil sword in his possession—it's deafening how quiet it is, but for a loud blaring noise that echoes throughout the hall—far away.]

About time you woke up from your beauty sleep.

[one of the other rooms open, and dante's recognition of someone else being around is barely present—just a tilt of his head, nothing more. his voice is surprisingly calm and keeps afloat despite the circumstances.]

[there's something that doesn't sit right with him about this whole place. call it years of experience, of 'the calm before the storm' a trained nerve under his skin.]

There's no time for questions. We're better off trying to get the hell out of this dump.

B. IN THE BUILDING, MONSTER ATTACK (OTA)

[his hair is a nuisance at this length—is what dante would think about if he ever had any sense of worry over whether his bangs cover his eyes or not.]

[the appearance of monsters flocking the halls is not entirely unexpected, more than used to these circumstances than not. it's just another day in the life of sparda's son, but there's still that feeling under his skin like he's just woken up; that everything's slower, especially since he can't quite default into his demonic powers.]

[not to mention, a hospital gown is hardly a fighting attire.]

[the creature dante fights is the humanoid creature with glowing eyes, snake-scale skin and long, flickering tail. the claws nearly catch him in a swipe, getting instead at his long hair, trimming it by a few inches.]

[there's a grin on his face as he presses back to a wall, near a table at the lab.]

Really? I thought it didn't look half bad myself. [the hair, he means] Like a rockstar. Hm?

[the creature rushes towards him, dante all but kicks the table at it, using the distraction to grab hold of its tail and whirling around before throwing it forcefully into a wall. he follows close behind, a scalpel digging into one of its glowing eyes, blood spurting out as it squeals in pain.]

I don't remember asking for your opinion anyway.

C. OUTSIDE (OTA)

[dante rolls his eyes at whoever is around. he's heard a couple of explanations about his being here, their being here, what this world is, the whole shebang. he isn't exactly thrilled—but he's also not going to let any worry or problems in this whole situation dampen his spirits.]

Yeah, okay.

[arms crossed, he's not exactly trying to make friends.]

Tell me that one of you thought to be a real hero and bring actual pants for us to wear.

D. SAFEHOUSE (OTA)

[perhaps like many others, dante has decided to take ownership of a cot far away from most people. it's just a personal thing, but he rather keep to himself than make any meaningful acquaintances while he's around. he's pretty weird so it'd only make sense for people to keep a distance, anyway.]

[regardless, find him 1. in bed, wearing a threadbare red shirt and baggy trousers, hands behind his head and one leg propped atop his other knee. clearly, he's browsing the network, seeing how he lacks a physical magazine of the sexy variety to look at. he could also be found 2. in the communal showers, looking himself over in the mirror after a pretty efficient shaving job, a studious look on his face as he presses thumb to chin and turns his head this way and that—one must really wonder how he can see at all, though, his hair pretty much covering his eyes.]

[for a more efficient conversation starter, dante is 3. at the mini-bar, obviously, his long hair in a ponytail, glancing over at the bottles and wondering which one resembles whiskey the most. the future sucks.]

I haven't really decided what to do with it yet. [his hair, he means, but there's really no context for this conversation starter.] You know how it is, that one decision and then fwick, [pouring a marroon-looking liquid into a glass] it's all over.

[eyes flicker up towards whoever is around, jostling the bottle in his hand.]

What's your poison?

takeshi kovacs. altered carbon. ota

[resleeves]

▶01. KILL MURDER DIE

---

[ you know who really needs to fuckin' throw his weight around? it's this guy, the guy who'd been too nice for too long when that stupid fucking bomb had gone off. he hadn't wanted to come here and help all the newly arrived idiots but guess he was here now and guess that meant he got to lop the head off some really fucked up creatures.

it's fucking awful to do it with his hands but he's not picky. he runs into a snake first and ends up grabbing it just before it strikes, twisting it around and then throwing it down the hallway. it survives and slinks away which is creepy but kovacs tries not to think too much of it.

he tries to slip inside a room to check it out but it's locked solid. it would be really fucking nice to have a cigarette right now. or at least a vape. cain had to go and fucking leave before he could get a refill, didn't he? ]

Open this fucking door!

[ that's gonna work. ]

▶02. BACK IN THE SADDLE

---

[ there's a lot going on outside but guess what? kovacs isn't helping. he'd helped a lot during the actual aftermath of the bomb which means he's going to sit in a bar and drink. he does stop downing alcohol for a second to ask the bartender: ]

Was I in here the other day? With some woman? She owes me a fucking drink.

[ and she'd been the one to order him around more than anyone else. kovacs kind of wants to have a word to see who the hell she is and if that's something she usually does. the bartender doesn't give him any answers so kovacs goes back to his drink.

even as a bunch of relief workers come in and ask for volunteers, he ignores them. he's busy. ]

▶03. WILDCARD

---

[ feel free to throw another scenario at me for hmu at spoonishly to plot. ]

billy kaplan ( marvel 616 )

[wiccant]

THIS ISN'T THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE

( billy does not appreciate the train. more importantly, he does not appreciate being left in the middle of nowhere without any notable way of getting back. he doesn't like the ominous message that led them out here either, but--it's too late to turn back around, and even if it wasn't--

those creatures are here, and he's really not cut out for this as he is. there's a loud screech that definitely did not come from the zombie-like humanoid following behind him and a bright blue glow from billy's chest that fades the further he's able to run from it.

but the monster trips. falls flat on it's face after catching it's foot on absolutely nothing and billy definitely isn't stopping. )

I really don't recommend staying and figuring out what he wants-- ( whoever they are, billy's planting a hand against the closest bit of them he can reach, trying to push them forward and away from the monster. )

TRAIN TRACKS

So. ( dirty, gross, covered in god knows what but at least they're outside and not dead so it could be worse, right? billy stands just at the outpost, eyes lingering down onto the tracks while making sure he's not getting too close. never know what might come out of those tunnels, especially after that mess. )

You think they're going to send the train back the other way, or are we risking finding another cluster of those outside? Think they'd answer fire signals? ( he's (maybe) joking about that last bit, tone a little lighter.

clearly the train didn't come back yet so who knows what they're supposed to be doing here. )

WILDCARD

( hit me up at sharkly for whatever! or just throw something. )

v | dmc | closed starters

[verselet]

[ ooc; closed starters for previously discussed plans below! if you’d like to hash something out as well, feel free to hmu at aurajen or PM this account! ]

carol danvers | mcu

[flyfightwin]

i. monster hospital (research lab)

[antiseptic. a steady beeping. carol knows this sort of environment all too well. it's not her first time in a hospital bed or even her first near death experience. she scans her surroundings as she struggles to her feet, legs wobbling from lack of use.

a memory comes unbidden as she scans the room, one that hasn't reared its ugly head in quite some time, but comes roaring back thanks to the familiar setting. is this the work of the kree?

she reaches instinctively for a spot near her ear, and when she doesn't find the inhibitor there, carol breathes a sigh of relief — albeit a short lived one as her attempt to light her fist ablaze is met with nothing more than a painful burning in her chest. it's a sobering realization, but one that she's not willing to waste more time dwelling on, not when whoever's brought her to this place has seen fit to leave the doors unlocked.

she pads down the eerily deserted halls, trying and failing to open any other doors, when an alarm sounds. her immediate instinct? hug the wall, and it's a good thing she does, because with the loud blaring comes the scurring of something. lots of somethings.

and they're buzzing.

they could be harmless, but she doesn't want to stay to find out, running like her life depends on it.

she rounds a corner and slams right into a solid body.]

Shit. Sorry. I didn't hit you too hard did I?

ii. can you please release me? (safehouse)

[like her rather unfortunate wake up call, the safehouse feels a lot like a page from her past, though, thankfully this one's more like all communal housing. not enough privacy and only okay food.

carol settles in as best she can, taking the first top bunk she can find because of an instinctive need to be that bit closer to the sky. if she can't light her fists on fire and she can't fly, she can at least have this. even if this is sad in comparison. not that she spends much time in her bunk, the realization that she's been someone's lab rat for months on end has her fighting off any urge to rest.

she basically lives in the common area, eagerly awaiting any tidbits about the outside world that she's only had a fleeting moment to experience before she was ushered like the rest of the new arrivals into the safehouse. to pass the time she mostly works out, push ups and crunches to rebuild her weakened muscles. she's mid-set when someone stumbles their way onto the couch that she's currently using to hold down her feet.]

Thirty five. Thirty six.

[sometime later, well after most people have gone to bed for the evening, a post-shower carol can be found staring in the mirror at her hair — stringy and sad. she huffs at her reflection, bringing a pair of scissors up to chop away at the image before her. with each lock that falls, carol feels marginally better, at least until the relative peace is interrupted by the door opening and a blast of cold air hitting her square in the face.

carol grips the towel more tightly around her body.]

Wow. Knock much? [it's official. she hates new amsterdam.]

iii. i hold my hands down (wildcard)

[what it says on the tin. hit me up on discord at burritopeter#1853 or at rambaldis. i'm down for whatever. dick punches, drinking, dance dance revolution. okay maybe not that last one, but carol will sing if your character is the type who likes karaoke.]

jon snow | asoiaf

[998]

i. into the woods.

[everything about this mission has been suspicious; jon is half expecting the train to leave them stranded in a locked warehouse somewhere. he is definitely not expecting to be let out into a forest. it's not like the forests he knows from westeros, which makes it even more fascinating. he walks around with a look of wonder, touching trees gently through black gloves.]

There must be animals here.

ii. straight up zombie fighting.

[after everything that's happened since the emp went off, it's almost a relief to be fighting monsters again. jon has longclaw out of the elaborate harness on his back as soon as he senses movement in the dark. he raises his eyebrows, almost grinning when the shambling humanoids come into view. fighting corpses is infinitely preferable to hauling their rotted leaking parts around the pyramid in hundred degree heat.]

Never thought I'd be happy to see the dead up and walking again.

[he throws out a few casual slashes to keep them away, then a mighty two-handed swing at the nearest neck. he hopes this is enough to keep it down, they can't afford a fire in the building right now.]


iii. gathering data.

[they've made it to the labs, and jon's since healed any damage he sustained. though he doesn't put his sword away, he shifts it to his left hand for a moment. he frowns at the biological specimens in their pods.]

Is somebody...making these monsters on purpose?

[like dany, he'd assumed they'd evolved from abnormal weather conditions and possibly radiation or chemical exposure. he glances around for other displaced.]

We need to copy all the information they have stored here. We can take pictures if we have to.

[he reaches out and activates a console with his right hand. he deflates somewhat when it asks for a password, and looks helplessly at whoever happens to be nearby.]

iv. new amsterdam.

[with the new people finally collected into the safehouse, it's back to work for jon snow. unfortunately he's been waylaid by something that looks like a six limbed maned wolf with glowing gold eyes. it's lying on its side and breathing heavily, its head in jon's lap as he bends over it, checking for signs of fever or disease.]

We have to help her.

nill (klein) | DOGS: BULLETS & CARNAGE | ota

[culver]

i. we were born sick [into the woods]

[Don't be late, or there won't be much to salvage.

Reading that makes a shudder run down Nill's spine, and she doesn't think twice before heading to the safehouse so she can shove some basic medical supplies into a bag. On the trek to the coordinates all she can think about is what they're about to walk into, but she tries not to let it weaken her resolve. On the train ride, when she isn't counting and recounting the supplies she's gathered, she's staring out the window, lost in thought. Outside the city is wild, unknown. There's no telling what the new displaced are facing out there.

When they finally make it to the building, Nill stays outside, setting herself up near the outpost where the train dropped them off. She'll offer first aid to anyone who has a bad run-in with a monster, cleaning and binding wounds as best she can.]

>>a. the experiments [tw body horror, etc.]

[Nill stays outside, worrying herself sick, until she hears someone mention that there are medical supplies inside. Knowing that, and knowing how depleted the safehouse's stores are after the EMP, she decides that going inside to see what she can find is a--well, not a good idea, but certainly necessary. It's partially her fault that the safehouse is so lacking, after all. She might as well see what she can do to remedy that.

She's cautious, moving slowly and stepping as silently as she can. When she makes it to the third floor, she happens upon a door that's already been forced open and cleared of monsters. Nill peeks inside, and the smell of sterilizing chemicals tells her she's in the right place. She moves the rest of the way into the room, fiddling with the light switch until it turns on.

Fluorescent lights buzz to life, illuminating a room almost directly out of her memories. Or perhaps her nightmares.

Some of the animals look normal, as if they're just sleeping in their cages. But the ones in the pods of fluid--some of them are so grotesque that all she can do is stare in horror for a few moments. Too many legs, too many eyes--she even spots one she thinks might have been a dog, but its snout has been shortened and squashed into a sick parody of a human face.

Nill turns and vomits on to the floor, spending a minute or so dry heaving until she's able to get control of herself. She doesn't want to be here--but she can see a cabinet with a red cross on it, as well as a metal surgical table with an unopened package of surgical instruments on it. With shaking legs and trembling hands, Nill makes her way to the tray until she can fumble open the pack, sending most of the items clattering across the ground; but she manages to grab a scalpel, holding it firmly as she edges across the room to the cabinet so she can start rooting around. She haphazardly starts shoving things into her bag, not even looking at what bottles and packages she might be grabbing, willing herself not to think about the monstrous scene behind her and to ignore the stinging in her eyes as she fights back horrified tears.]

>>b. monsters in the dark [tw monster killing eventually]

[As soon as her pack is full to bulging, Nill hurries down the hall to the nearest stairwell. She keeps her scavenged scalpel in a knuckle-white grip, but she's distracted, unable to stop thinking about the grotesque scene she's just left behind. In her hurry, she doesn't hear the sound of claws clicking ahead of her until the hyena-like creature seems to materialize out of the gloom just a few yards away.

Nill spends half a heartbeat staring at it, unable to move. Only the sound of its almost laughing growl sets her into motion. She takes one step back, then another--and then she turns, pelting hell-for-leather down the hall, back the way she came. She can hear it gaining, can feel her heart slamming against her ribs as if it's about to beat right out of her chest. Eyes wide in terror, Nill flings herself around the next corner, hoping against all hope that she'll be able to make it to another stairwell in time.]

ii. you heard them say it [wildcard]

[ooc; hello! i'm down for absolutely anything. nill will offer first aid to anyone who needs it, and will also be participating in relief efforts around new amsterdam. she no longer lives at the safehouse, but regularly visits to make food and check up on people. for the monsters in the dark prompt, i'm interested in having nill utilize her density manipulation power. for the experiments prompt, nill is also the product of genetic experimentation, and was sold into a brothel as a result, so there may be mention of the sexual abuse of a minor in these tags--please let me know if you want me to avoid these subjects. feel free to hit me up on plurk at watchet if you'd like to do anything specific!]

diana prince | dceu | ota

[monomachy]

i. i'm a rebel just for kicks now [into the woods]

[The message leaves a feeling dark and heavy as a stone in her stomach, but Diana doesn't consider staying behind for one moment. At least her options aren't so limited as before; when she leaves the safehouse for the coordinates, she has the lasso at her hip and a determined set to her jaw. Whatever danger the new displaced face, they won't face it alone.

When they reach the station, she wastes no time ripping the boards away and stepping on to the train. She wonders, idly, if it will somehow work despite the EMP, and her unasked question is answered once it shudders to life. She's quiet on the train ride, but won't turn away anyone who decides to find a seat beside her, offering a few quiet words of encouragement. None of them have any idea what they're getting into, and she catalogs the faces of those on the train so she can make sure they all make it back from--wherever they're going.

The moment she sees the building and hears the howls and screeches coming from inside, her stomach drops. A split-second later, she's running for the doors, nearly ripping one off its hinges as she rushes through it.]

>>a. the second floor [tw monster killing eventually]

[Once she'd assured herself the first floor was cleared (for now), Diana had begun to ascend the stairs. The second floor had seemed quiet, and she'd already seen a few new faces--once she sees the bunks, she assumes this is where the new displaced were left. But there are a lot of rooms to check, and there's no way to tell if everyone has woken up without checking all of them.

The first few are uneventful, the rooms empty. Though she should feel relieved, she can't ignore the way the back of her neck prickles every time she hears something skittering in the distance.

Then, suddenly, the skittering is a lot closer.

She freezes where she is, halfway across the threshold of a room she thinks is empty. Diana forces her breathing to steady, straining her ears for any noise--but there's nothing. Her muscles relax a fraction.

The mutant snake bursts through the vent across the room, its tiny malformed legs giving it enough momentum to push her out into the hallway when it hits her. Without her Amazonian reflexes, she'd have been dead; instead, she's caught its jaw, wedging her fingers between its rows of teeth to keep its maw from enveloping her head. But she can feel it beginning to coil around one of her legs, trying to get her on the ground and vulnerable, and knows she has to think fast.]

>>b. the third/fourth/fifth floor [tw monster killing eventually]

[After her ordeal with the snake creature, Diana sets herself to the task of searching every floor of the building. There are more of those... things crawling around, and she can't assume that the new displaced wouldn't go wandering off in their drugged hazes, making them easy prey. If she can find any of them and get them to the bottom floor, she will.

She turns a corner, and sees what she thinks is a person--and raises a hand in greeting as she quickens her pace.

The person doesn't wave back, but it starts running towards her.

She sees a tail, the glint of scales. Its eyes shine like burnished gold when it passes beneath one of the flickering lights. But she also sees the way it stands, spots the vague shape of a face, and cannot ignore that it looks human. That's enough for her.

Instead of running or fighting, Diana raises her hands, palms outward.]

Stop! Let me help you!

ii. i been feelin it since 1966 now [the wait]

[In their current condition, the chances of all of the displaced make it through the wilderness back to the city unscathed are... slim. She isn't in the best of shape either, having suffered a gash from one of the monsters on her arm; not life-threatening, but it hurts and blood has hardly stopped seeping through the gauze she'd scavenged from the building to bind the wound. There had been some talk about walking back, but Diana knows how long the train ride was, and without adequate supplies and shelter, it will not be a pleasant or easy return trip.

Besides, she wouldn't be surprised if more of the creatures that were in the building have made it outside by now. They'll be more vulnerable walking through the unknown terrain than staying where they are. Either help will come, or it won't. She tells herself that if after a day, nobody has come, she'll be open to discussion about walking back. But for now, she's going to settle in for the wait.

And by settle in, of course, she means to set up camp. She may be a princess, but she was also a member of Antiope's legion. The general would never suffer any of her soldiers to be unaccustomed to living off the land, royalty or otherwise.

First and foremost, she makes to start a fire; it's warm enough to sleep outside without the extra heat, but it's dark and she doesn't like their odds of making it through the night without having to fend off something. If the monsters are lurking around the perimeter of the building, she wants to be able to see them coming. Luckily there's plenty of wood and tinder to work with, and soon enough she's rubbing two sticks together, trying to coax a few embers to catch.

A little bit of scouting shows no signs of small woodland life, and instead she begins foraging for edible plants on the outskirts of where they've established their makeshift camp. She'd prefer rabbits or even squirrels, but with what's currently living inside that building, she wouldn't trust any creature she found so close to it. Once she's gathered what she can into the makeshift basket of her shirt, she lays it all out on a clean blanket someone has found. It isn't much--they can't live off burdock and chicory forever--but it'll be enough to take the edge off their hunger for now. She makes a few more trips, and by the time she's satisfied with their stores, she finally takes a seat by the fire, unable to keep exhaustion and the occasional grimace of pain from her face.]

iii. might've had your fill, but you feel it still [wildcard]

[ooc; as always, i'm always down for wildcard prompts! diana is still living in the safehouse, so any interactions there are welcome. she is also throwing herself into relief efforts across new amsterdam, and can be found making repairs, hauling debris (discreetly), handing out supplies, etc. diana's power is inspiration manipulation, so if anyone needs a pep talk, hit me up. please feel free to ping me on plurk at watchet if you'd like to do something specific!]

Worick Arcangelo | GANGSTA.

[neutralally]

a; WAKING UP (NEWCOMERS)

[Full consciousness comes slower than Worick feels comfortable with, accompanied by disorienting flashes that he can't quite place. Flashing lights. The murmuring of voices. Nothing distinct or recognizable. That more than anything panics Worick enough to force movement into his weighted limbs. The rest of the room comes into view as he pushes himself up and out of the bed, his long and loose hair falling in waves over his shoulders.

Over the years he's been drunk, concussed, and knocked unconscious, but he has never blacked out or lost time before. One advantage to having a special memory like his is the fact that he has perfect recall and he can always remember where he's been and who he's been around. Until now.

Yet somehow he feels a sense of familiarity with this place, even though he can't remember what or where it is. Exactly how long has he been here?

Heading for the door, he has a brief moment of doubt. What's he going to do if it doesn't open? He sure as hell doesn't want to wait around for someone to come back and put him under again. It doesn't take a genius to guess that they - whoever they are - have probably been drugging him. But those worries dissipate when the door just swings right open, leading him out into the dark hallway.

Immediately something feels off in his gut. A thought echoes in his mind about how easy this seems. He can just freely walk out of here? Seems unlikely. He starts eyeing the other doors lining the hall, wondering if he's likely to find anything of use inside any of them. Information about this place, something he can use as a weapon, an exit map. Even if leaving does end up being as easy as it seems, he wants something to show for it.

Choosing a door at random, he walks up and swings it open, only to be met with a room identical to his own and...another person in an equally identical hospital gown.

Awkward.]

Well...hello there. You didn't happen to call for a rescue, did you?

[As if that had been his attention all along.]

b; INTO THE WOODS (MONSTERS)

[Weaponless, powerless (as far as he knows), and with absolutely zero experience in battling experimental human and animal hybrid creatures, it doesn't take Worick long to go into survival mode via hiding. Unfortunately, with the sheer amount of creatures stalking the building, hiding turns quickly into a game of hide-and-seek, keeping him on his toes and racing from room to room.

He does, however, acquire a few useful things from these rooms: a couple of syringes, a roll of bandages, and a pair of medical scissors. It's the closest thing to being armed that he's going to get. Especially once his luck finally runs out.

Racing into an unlocked lab room once he believes that he's in the clear, he isn't expecting to find a large snake with four small legs on the other side of the door, coiling to spring at him.

He stumbles back into the hall, but he's too slow. The snake creature launches itself at him, wrapping itself around his chest. Worick falls onto his butt under the added weight, and the scissors and bandage roll fall from one of his hands and land a few feet away.

While he still has the syringes, the angle is off, and the snake is squeezing tighter and tighter around his chest.]

c; INTO THE WOODS (OUTSIDE)

[After the events of the last few hours, Worick doesn't even have to consider whether he'd rather sleep outside rather then return to the building. There is no way in hell that he will willingly set foot in that place again.

The hospital gown is a little thin in the evening breeze, especially with the way that his is torn in places, leftover evidence of claws and teeth that had gotten a little too close for comfort. It doesn't stop him from taking a seat on the ground, his arms crossed over his chest to provide a little warmth.]

Not to sound ungrateful for the rescue attempt, but did anyone think past the rescuing part? Did anyone think to bring food, for instance? In case that train you all took to get here ended up being a one-way trip leaving us all stranded for the night?

[Someone's exhausted, hungry, and feeling a little snappish.]

d; SAFEHOUSE

[After everything he's been through just to make it to New Amsterdam, the safehouse seems like a very underwhelming reward. He's lived in worst places, of course, including living literally on the streets of Ergastulum. This...doesn't seem like much of a step up from that really.

The clothes provided are bland at best and ugly at worst, leaving a very select few items that he feels is worth his time. It's enough to make due for now, as he plans to work on making money for necessities as soon as they are allowed out into the city.

For now the safehouse offers one privilege in the form of its mini-bar. The quality is crap, but one can't be picky when they're not the one paying for it.]

Hey! Want to join me? [He pulls two bottles of beer out of the mini-bar and wiggles them in offering at whoever just entered the kitchen. Drinking is always more fun with company.]

e; WILDCARD

[Have something else in mind? Give it a go! I can be reached at NearTheHeart for plotting.]

hope mikaelson ; ota with a closed starter

[tribridfreakshow]

relief efforts;

[New people are here and the city is in full swing trying to rebuild itself. Without a job or anything else specific to do, Hope is content to put her strength and stamina to good use as she helps clear debris out of the streets.

They want them to fit in, so clearly trying to get things back to normal is the way to go.

After carrying a particularly heavy piece of concrete off to a pile to be taken away, she has a seat on the ground to the side of the road, wiping at her forehead with the back of her arm and giving herself a moment to rest.]

closed to Klaus Mikaelson; backdated to the 20th

[Caroline is lost and in pain; it's the only piece of information that she knows and she only has one way to try and fix it. She has to find her headmistress, even if somehow they're the same age now and things are kind of weird.

Hope is almost certain that Caroline would do the same for her.

She's sitting on the floor in one of the otherwise currently empty safehouse rooms, sigils written on the ground and as many of the usual ingredients, she would need to cast a locator spell. She's been told that it won't work, she's tried to use her magic before, but she's desperate and just searching the city without a clue of where to go isn't going to work.

This isn't the first time she's tried this today, and it's clear from the glow on her chest and the pained sound that leaves her throat that if she pushes it much further, it's not going to end well.]

Dammit!

[She slams her fist into the floor, feels the sting of pain in her knuckles as she draws her knees to her chest.]

simon jarrett | SOMA | ota

[theseuschip]

i. DON'T GO IN THERE; YOU'LL BECOME ONE █ DORMITORIES (FLOOR 2)

[ It's so like PATHOS-II, but not. With no need for dozens of server towers, for books, for photographs, for personal affects, it's eerily empty of humanity, unsettling and unwelcoming in its futurism in a way New Amsterdam as a whole is gradually coming to not be. But the hostile metal, lit gauges and fluorescents and locked doors, the cold terror? Actually pretty familiar.

The fact that the creatures here can't scramble his brain via WiFi is less of a comfort than you'd expect. Everything in PATHOS-II was bipedal. Not identical, but controlled by the same intelligence, and, more importantly, incapable of toxic sneak attacks from above.

Simon's usual MO for dealing with aggressive monsters was working well enough until he ran into that thing.

Amazingly, robot injuries are also easier to treat, which he notes as he runs the shower cold over burning, reddening wounds, bent at nearly a 90 degree angle and squinting in blind horror at the drain. That's a lot of blood down there. Is it? It looks like it. That's what snake bites do, right? ]

Shit, shit, shit--

[ the visuals aren't pretty: the ragged, humanoid bite on the back of his neck speaks to something that made up for its lack of puncturing power with sheer enthusiasm, and his remaining arm (don't worry, that's old) sports long, parallel gashes. Both wounds are swelling and angrily discolored, and plus their owner is drenched entirely down to the small of his back, shirt and everything. ]

ii. FREAKY CREATURES, MONSTER PARTY █ EVERYWHERE

[ "crying in the bathroom" say that 2 my face mods not online and see what happens

There's no preamble necessary for this: Simon is pro-running and hiding from monsters, in that he is practically a pro at it, and he is also in full support of running and hiding as the default approach to being stuck in a research facility full of mangled half-human creatures that are trying to kill you.

That's his prey animal mode. And while for others 'taking a risk' while in prey animal mode might involve fighting, or getting up close and personal to off the aggressive creatures, for Simon it entails what he's doing now: spotting someone who seems to be dawdling or screwing around, and going off-course to grab them by the shoulder or arm, trying to pull them around a corner as one of the facility's creations gains on them.

Whether they yield to his urging or resist being yanked in the direction he's decided safety is, his reaction is the same, tone betraying his relief at having run into another Displaced more than his panic at what looks like their failure to haul ass appropriately. ]

What are you doing? We need to go!

[ sorry if you're trying to do something incredibly dope and effective to dispatch one of these things and don't want to be blueballed by a one-armed man who is a professional unarmed (lol) weenie; it simply doesn't occur to Simon that that could be an option, and for him it isn't. Fortunately, he's not too hard to shake off. ]

iii. EYES OF YELLOW, SCALES AND FEATHERS █ EXPERIMENTS

[ The mangled creatures, held in sturdy-looking cages or suspended in ghoulish artificial amniotic fluid, don't look like they'll break their test tubes and attack anytime soon, but there's still wariness and a quietness to Simon's steps around the laboratory, a veil of caution drawn over the numb horror. He can't look at them without reflexively searching for the splotches of corrupted kinship, and yet he keeps doing it, despite the way his insides tighten queasily whenever he spots a distorted human nose; a set of claws attached to fingers; an expression just a bit too like that of an unconscious person and just a bit too unlike that of a sedated monster.

The room itself is oppressive, almost nauseating under the green glow in the otherwise clinically colorless light. Simon waits for the stillness to sink in, for it to feel like they won't be ambushed, before saying anything. ]

They could've been us. We just got the good mad scientists.

iv. TAILS AND TETHERS █ MORGUE

Augh- Christ.

[ That's how somebody who would open one of these doors, albeit with some trepidation (if everything that died stayed dead, Simon wouldn't be here, and he's not the only one), reacts to the unrecognizable, twisted form that greets him. With a grimace that some might call understated.

Simon can hardly locate features on what is essentially a pile of meat, and there's something that strikes him about these that wasn't present in the otherwise similar animate piles of meat that he had to dodge at every turn before the space-time anomaly that mercifully landed him in New Amsterdam. He can't put his finger on it, not yet, but it's something that makes him feel cold and leaden.

He shuts the drawer, face bloodless. ]

What the hell are they doing with them? You think Cassius has anything to do with this? [ His tone is low and flat, a curiosity for something with no nice answers. ]

v. TURN THE LIGHTS OFF █ WILDCARD

[ the usual wildcard option! as a survival horror character from a setting not entirely unlike this, Simon can and will be basically anywhere and I want to go pretty ham on this. hmu at honchkrow or throw me something else here... let him teach you the art of evading zombies. ]

Daenerys Targaryen

[dragonwarder]

long train runnin'

[She has begun to accept the strange world of New Amsterdam, but not quite so much that she isn't startled when the seemingly defunct train springs to life. The adrenaline coaxes the blue glow to her chest, and she spends the next two minutes wrestling it back down before the scales can grow over her flesh.

When Dany's violet eyes flutter open again, she looks perhaps too tired than she ought to -- but fortunately scale-free. The glow in her chest is slow to fade, leaving her rubbing at it awkwardly. One other hand is wrapped securely around a hand-hold as she tries to steady herself and dodge the vertigo feeling.

Somehow, dragon riding was easier than this. And the questions never seem to stop coming. Every time she thinks she might have New Amsterdam figured out, something else happens.]

Has anyone been this far outside of city limits before?

[There is a feeling in her spine that she doesn't like. It prickles, and smells of danger.]

menagerie

[Daenerys is hardly a fighter, but the creatures are everywhere and she can only hide for so long when she's supposed to be helping others. That is likely how she's ended up squaring off with:

a. A snake on all four legs. It's no dragon, but Daenerys has seen the look in its eyes before. She does not bend her spine for the creature, but she does lock eyes with it. They track one another's movements, moving in a circle. Don't move she will mouth to her companion while the snake hisses and spits, striking outward awkwardly. It isn't until it clamps rows of teeth down on Daenerys' now black scaled arm that she shouts: "Now! Kill it! Quickly!" She is not eager to test the durability of her arm.

b The sloth just down the way. She'd been wandering toward a call for help -- as it turns out, she happens to bump into another displaced on the way. "It's alright. But we are not safe yet--" And the cry sounds again. Daenerys looks from her new companion into the black ahead of them. "Did you hear that?"]

a room with a mutant

[She's never seen anything quite like this facility. Daenerys' heart hadn't stopped beating at an accelerated pace since her arrival. The dread of the place was palpable, making the air thick with fear and the scent of blood. But with the majority of the Displaced focused on rescue, Daenerys' mind is elsewhere. She was hardly any use to them, after all -- she could not control when the transformations came, nor was she granted any great strength for tapping into them.

No, she was of better use elsewhere, searching for answers. That is when she starts sorting through some samples that had been left out on the table, frowning.]

They're all--reptilian, in some way.

[She is speaking out loud as she holds up a vial to the light. Sure enough -- iridescent scales. Nothing quite like that of her dragons. It's something of a disappointment and a relief.

And then, she pockets it, and goes to search for more.]

Death hovers here like nothing else. What could possibly be the purpose of this atrocity?

wildcard

[go nuts! or pp me at stabs]