ARRIVAL LOG 003

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: Night of July 18
WHAT: The third arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy. Further notes at end of log.

> ARRIVAL LOG #003

Awareness comes to you in blurred snatches, cloudy fragments of sound and light, color, sensation. Hazy and difficult to grasp on to, but slowly aligning into focus. A series of regular, rhythmic beeps. A medicinal, astringent smell. The sensation of movement, a low hum and accompanying vibration under you. Your eyes are heavy, hard to keep open, but in the glimpses between slow, dark blinks you see the gray interior of a vehicle, rows of paired seats ahead of you. There are others with you. All of you in white scrubs, hair recently cut but at various stages of growth, restrained by straps across your chests, arms, feet, holding you to the seats. A murmur of conversation up at the front of the vehicle, and a man in dark grey scrubs stands to look back over the rows of seats, his gaze catching yours but then passing, as if unconcerned. You try to open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your tongue is coated in tar, and you manage nothing more than an empty parting of lips. The vehicle stops. Several guards stand at the front of the vehicle, moving down the aisle between seats, unbuckling each passenger and helping them to their feet. One comes for you, and your limbs feel wooden and heavy, slow to move. Doors at the back of the vehicle are opened, city sounds flooding in, echoing strangely. You aren't given any time to adjust. The guards carefully help each of you out. The nurses, all in the same dark gray scrubs, checking each of you over, quickly and methodically. With a nod, they and the guards climb back into the bus. One lingers for a moment, smiling at you, the expression smug and unpleasant. "Going to be great never to have to see your face again," he says. One of the others calls him to hurry up. He looks upwards, briefly, gives a mocking salute to something high behind you. Then he climbs into the bus, the doors closing behind him. The engine powers up again, and the bus is gone. You're left alone in an alley, with no idea of where you are or why you've been brought here. There is noise, nearby. A dense wave of chatter and music, filtering largely unobstructed to you. You look up and see there is no sky, but a ceiling, some few feet above your head. The artificial lights there are visible, but dimmed, as if emulating the light of an exterior street at night. As you venture around the corner you find a long street filled with booths and stalls, a crowd milling between them all, a densely busy market scene. ◉ Though entirely capable of independent action and thought, new characters will find themselves completely, unquestioningly compliant to any verbal statement which could be taken as a command or request.

> THE MARKET

The message from El comes the same as previous: insistent, not waiting for any active attempt to open it. Scrolling within your vision as if being written while you're reading it, the urgency is apparent. There's another one. Hang on. Scratch that, there's another two. Anonymous buses dropping off a lot of people in white scrubs, Blue Sector, Birch Street. This time they did it right on top of the monthly mod market. Less likelihood of cops, more likelihood of them disappearing somewhere really unpleasant. And when I say a lot of people, I mean a lot. Get down there, quick. Birch Street is less of a street and more of a large tunnel, part of the complex warren of underground tunnels and buildings which reach downwards into the ground beneath New Amsterdam. Treated like just another part of the city, the streets are just as busy here as above ground, though the spaces are more clearly delineated between those for foot traffic and those for vehicles. Birch Street would be one for vehicles, but tonight it's been reserved for another event. The monthly mod market is a place for people from all over the city - all over the world - with an interest in body modification to come and view the latest achievements and ventures in mod development, as well as show off their own and socialize with other modders. The space is full of booths and stalls displaying a wide variety of cybernetics, genetic alterations, as well as the latest in kinetic tattooing and electronic piercings. Some of the vendors come from well known brands, while others are independents, much more willing to push the boundaries of legality to give you the fully kicked up mod you've always wanted - for a price, of course. Crowds gather around certain booths to watch mods being done, while vendors shout for an audience at others. Music wars and clashes, booming from different stalls across the street, while neon lights flash and strobe out of booths and a few open store fronts. It's a dense, noisy gathering of people, a unique slice of New Amsterdam's culture for an outsider to navigate. An easy space for anyone to get lost in, let alone someone stumbling new and confused into this world. Not all of this crowd are friendly, and many are likely to take advantage of a vulnerable individual - and with the uniformity of their white scrubs and shorn heads, the new arrivals are sure to catch attention.

> THE SAFEHOUSE

Access to the safehouse is a hatch hidden behind stacks of empty storage shelves in the back of an abandoned supermarket in an outer district of the city. The immediate area is similarly abandoned, empty stores, flanked by several blocks of dive bars and clubs which cater to more niche tastes. A place where people can come and go unseen, or, if seen, not spoken of. A dark haired woman called Gaby is ready to greet the new arrivals and get them settled in, brusque and no-nonsense - perhaps more than usual, considering the large amount of people filtering into the safehouse this night. ◉ The safe house is a large open space, filled with rows of basic cots set up to sleep a large amount of people. Basic, but outfitted with everything necessary for daily life. A few doors lead to back rooms for storage, medical care and a large communal bathroom, and past the long rows of cots there is a communal kitchen, fully stocked, and an eating area. Privacy is at a minimum. ◉ New characters will be asked to pick their beds, and provided with a change of (second-hand, mismatched and somewhat threadbare) clothes and basic toiletries. ◉ While there were previously also NPC occupants of the safehouse, natives to New Amsterdam, these people have now been moved on to somewhere safer. A few of their belongings remain, discarded or accidentally abandoned. ◉ Gaby will make it clear to all new arrivals that if they have any requests or queries, they should contact her or El. ◉ The drugs making new characters compliant will remain in their systems for a few hours after their arrival at the safehouse before finally beginning to fade. They will be gone entirely after a night's rest. In the meantime, they may want to be careful of what others say to them. ◉ New characters will be given rudimentary access to the network on arrival in the safehouse, but will not have their ID set up yet. They will be able to make posts and replies, but their messages will be anonymous and they do not have inboxes yet. ◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until July 22. These 4 days are for them to adjust, learn about the world they've arrived in from their fellows, and for El to speak with them and work on setting up their IDs.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to Meadowlark, newbies! You're now free to post to the network and logs comms. To reiterate, your characters will have no IDs or inboxes, nor be allowed out of the safehouse until July 22 (October 14). At that point it's expected they'll have gotten a good idea of their new situation from their fellow characters, and will have discussed their background and job potentials with El in order for their false IDs to be set up. If you have any questions or ideas about how you'd like to get your character involved in the world, or if they'd like to join Morningstar, please head over to the plot engagement post and drop us a comment! For questions specific to this log, there is a thread below. Please check out our October calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month. As a reminder, AC for new characters 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 October 20 and close on October 27. If you do not reply to AC, you will be considered idled and dropped from the game. We will not post a warning list.

> NAVIGATION

Comments

[reneger]

( it hides most of her reaction--the paler than usual skin, how exhausted they all are after all this bullshit. but jason catches onto it enough. picks up enough.

he's not as familiar with steph as, say, tim is. but jason knows enough to know what she means by dad stuff. it's parents like steph's father that drive jason to slitting throats. the anger shows in the way his jaw clenches tight. but he lets it go. relaxes a bit after a moment. no use losing his shit here. )

I started the fight with B. Don't worry about it. ( it's not an excuse. it's one jason wouldn't let pass if it was anyone other than himself and bruce. hell, wouldn't let pass even if it was but the circumstances were. a little extreme. he's pissed at bruce still, too. maybe jason deserved getting his ass kicked, but not like that.

steph didn't deserve that shit either. )

Might've been the time since and not intentional. Wounds heal on their own given enough leeway.

[quipper]

[ guess they're both bleeding hearts when it comes to this, huh. out of the corner of her eye, she notices the way he coils, poised to fight. there's something similar in her own balled fist. doesn't make it okay, she wants to say, but her mouth remains thin.

it won't occur to her then, but later, when she overthinks everything that happened today, she'll contrast jason with tim. he was always surprised by that sort of injustice in her life. anger followed after the initial shock, sure, but the defiant, sharp instinct comes to people who aren't surprised any longer.

for the moment, she only nods, easing upright. the tension doesn't quite roll out of her shoulders. ]

We're pretty big pains in the ass to keep under for that long. [ yeah, it's possible. no, she doesn't like it. ] Maybe we should go back, see if we missed any clues.

[reneger]

I don't think that's a great idea. ( not telling her no, because jason isn't that kind of guy. steph can do whatever the hell she wants do, he's not going to stop her. she's a big girl, can handle herself just fine. and if she can't? that's her fault for jumping in too deep. will jason still chase her down to try and save her? probably. but if she wants to make the leap-- )

We don't know why they left us here, right now. We still stick out even with the bit of added color. If this is some kinda game and they're hunting down people in scrubs, they'll find us.

( it's a twisted thought, but not an impossibility. )

Lingering near the scene'll only get us caught. Or dead.

[quipper]

[ a game, like the hunt for batman not so long ago. her mouth thins. no offense taken, when he makes a strong point. ]

Speaking of bad ideas, [ she lets that hang briefly. ] we may want to split up. [ cover more ground, make for a smaller target, you name it. ] Regroup later.

[reneger]

Don't hurt yourself.

( splitting up is the better plan. he gives a brief nod of his head, turns on his heels to start walking--away. some direction, fuck if it really matters. )