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meadowlarklogs2018-10-21 12:39 am
larkers) wrote in meadowlarklogs2018-10-21 12:39 am
EVENT LOG 002
WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: July 27
WHAT: New Amsterdam experiences a wave of unusual violence.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Violence, injury, death. Further notes at end of log.
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: July 27
WHAT: New Amsterdam experiences a wave of unusual violence.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Violence, injury, death. Further notes at end of log.
| > EVENT LOG #002 |
Flu season doesn't tend to hit during New Amsterdam's high summer, but the symptoms that sweep over numerous citizens over the city are similar enough to make people worry. Thanks to the high level of medical care and immunizations, sweeps of sickness like the one takes hold of the city on the morning of July 27th are uncommon. The occurrences are incidental, however – nothing to write home about, and nothing to go to the hospital for, not that the people in question are willing. Any suggestion that there may be something wrong could be easily taken as a slight – as if one wrong word could set them off. The first reports of the chaos begin come in waves around midday. Police blotters update to describe unusual acts of violence at all corners of the city. These stories begin with the bizarre. One man holds up a drug store with a haphazard set of weapons because the storekeepers offered him poor customer service. An arrest occurs in the financial district because a high-end gourmet commodities manager splashes a hot drink on her customer's face after they tap their foot impatiently. These incidents escalate before long – hovercars crash into one another in shocking displays of road rage, the vice president of sales at a Giles Bell pharmaceutical subsidiary demands that security shut down all exits to the building, insisting that everyone must remain inside to be searched. The cause for this search is unknown. Once again caught unaware by the wave of violence sweeping over the city, NAPD officers hit the streets to try to stymie the frequent occurrences. However, they're ill-prepared for what lies ahead of them. The offenders are difficult to identify ahead of time, prowling through the streets as if they're hunting their victims. Various businesses end up surrounded by teams of NAPD officers, trying to find a way to break through security to help the innocent people held inside. With how massive and overpopulated that New Amsterdam is, there aren't enough officers to stem the violence. |
| > THE SAFEHOUSE |
As the day stretches on, local news reports advise all New Amsterdam citizens to return home or to somewhere they know to be safe. They have very little information about the cause for these events, and reporters are hesitant to draw any conclusions. Each reporter, however, offers a common refrain: it's a month to the day of the strange creature's attack on the city, and this bizarre onslaught is hitting it when it is at its weakest. They advise anyone to send tips to the NAPD about why this outbreak of violence has occurred, as well as any information on any incidents or offenders. Gaby had the day off when the news reports began to come in, and was nowhere near the safehouse when she got the call to come in. Getting to the safehouse is difficult, wearying, and she looks worse for wear when she gets inside. She has a gun holstered under a jacket, hidden away, and infrequently used. Anyone who comes in will be checked, passed over with a metal detector. No one gets in with a weapon. Everything is secure, because the safehouse is small, tight. Even if it's just the player characters living there now, it's likely less of a haven and more of a place that could present a number of risks. Gaby knows this, but like anyone in this – she's caught in a bit of a bind. For anyone who's present, she'll take stock of how they're doing. Without knowledge of the early symptoms being common knowledge, it will be difficult to pick any out. There is room for someone to lie about someone's behavior – Gaby has no way of knowing, no way of "curing" anyone to check if they're telling the truth. That's not to say she won't be on edge or prepared for any attacks to occur inside the safehouse. She will be ready to step in and restrain anyone who exhibit violent behavior against another person. Besides, anyone smart probably wouldn't come back to a limited, closed space with multiple other strangers. The safehouse isn't looking all that safe right now. |
| > THE CURE |
How it first happens may be coincidence. A desperate grab to stop a fist making impact, or an attempt to restrain someone. Either way, skin to skin contact is made, and the effect is immediate: a burning sensation at the point of contact, and the now familiar blue glow. What it indicates isn't clear. The affected person shows no change in behavior, not to start. But as the burning gets worse, they seem to slowly calm. Eventually a sense of peace falls on both of you, one that flows into a deep, terrible wave of sadness, gone as soon as it came. The offender looks at you with clear eyes, clear-headed. They don't know what came over them, why they did what they did. They were so angry, so sure what they were doing was justified. But in the aftermath, all that's left is confusion and guilt. You look at your hands and realize you have the means to prevent more of them from doing anything terrible. But it could be at great risk to yourself – physically, and in being seen, being caught and found out to not be of this world. The reports of the attacks continue on the news, more hostage incidents where the NAPD are unable to reason with the hostage takers, attacks on the streets leaving people critically wounded, or worse. Is risking yourself worth it to try saving this city? |
| > FINAL OOC NOTES |
Please refer to the OOC EVENT POST for this event for all OOC info, including suggestions for directions on how to engage with the event and the questions thread for any questions regarding this event. Affected characters must have entered the burning building during our guided log earlier in the month, though it isn't necessary for you to have responded to the log to say your character did so! Any characters who did not enter the building will be unaffected, including all newcomers from the last arrival. The incidents will continue until July 30, IC time. An aftermath wrap up post will be made on October 26 which will detail the resolution and fallout of the event. As a reminder, there is one power level up available for this event. This will be granted for a thread of at least 5 action/log comments containing your character "curing" either another player character or an NPC. They will need to reach the 5 comments required by November 20 to be eligible. Submission will be handled on the wrap up post. |
| > NAVIGATION |
no subject
the corners of his mouth quirk. ]
Got one of my PhDs in worrying, I'm afraid. [ so it's a no on that front, even if he allows connor to push forward on his own, falling into step beside him. he rolls his hand in a sort of nebulous gesture, as if to say yeah, sure, i'm a regular and wave off any significance to it. now that he isn't occupied with a potential threat, his energy buzzes out into little movements like this. not one for stillness, leopold fitz. ]
It's a pint of whatever's on tap or whisky, [ tipping his head this way and that. ] depending on whether I've had a brush with death that day. [ spot of dry humour for you, though it's not untrue. ] Can try the whisky, too, if you want, but I'm nearly certain you'd hate it.
[ most people do, and he's a sweet android new to the world of booze. ]
no subject
How many PhDs do you have, exactly? (because that's what stood out to him in that admission, the brain on him instead of the worry he's unintentionally shirking.) If you're able to use one or all of them here, then I won't feel as discomfited with your decision to buy me my drinks.
(a whole pint of beer or a glass of whiskey? connor concerned himself over hank's drinking habits, but that was excessive. this doesn't sound all that bad. one of anything can't hurt, right?
walks along, occasionally slowing to fuss at a darkly bruised eye the wind is hellbent on making sting, relying on frequent checks on fitz to tell him he's keeping an alright pace.)
I have a feeling I'll prefer the beer, to start. Hopefully there are no outbreaks of the virus at the pub, but I suppose if there is we'll be in the right place at the right time. Have you been out around the chaos long?
no subject
Just the two. Engineering and Technology. [ he could go more specific, except no one cares that much. moving past the remark about being treated to a drink as discomfiting (oh dear), fitz claps a hand on connor's shoulder, equal parts friendly and calculating, assessing just how off-balance his partner is and providing a means to act as a steadying force. ]
One of my fellow lab techs went off her trolley 'round eleven — been out and about since then. [ work days tend to get cut short when a coworker attempts assault. ] You, however, look like you've been at it all week. [ pointing at his face with his free hand (with his smattering of minor injuries and the bruise on his jaw, where a punch glanced off him) — in reference to the evident damage on connor's own. ] Is that due to a localised incident or a series of encounters?
[ regardless, there's something indefatigable about connor. fitz will give him that. ]
no subject
(connor cares. A Lot. as a man built by the hands of engineers, meeting one he can actually talk to is fascinating and it shows blatantly on his face as fitz makes him wobble unnaturally on his feet. walking was a delicate process, but he's quick to recover with a chin raised and his spine ramrod straight.
humans have to guess at their own equilibrium and adjust accordingly, an inconvenience. he clears his throat.)
I hope she didn't hurt you, Fitz. Or herself. (he's strangely genuine, eyes following fitz's point to injuries that might've pained him once and might still — any amount of pain, connor thinks, is too much. especially when dealt by a friend or colleague.) Two encounters left me like this. Deserved, at the time. I... lost control of myself.
(well, it sticks in his throat. markus and noctis are still an open wound.)
Everything but my collarbone is tolerable. This sling prevents all manner of movement. (admires the narrowing path they're taking through new amsterdam's concrete jungle, lips a firm line.) ... I don't like it.
no subject
but, oh dear, connor's interested in his work and concerned for his wellbeing and unsettled over the events of the day... it's enough to endear him to fitz already, who feels a spike of guilt over his little test. while fitz was unaffected by the rage toxin (or whatever it may be), he knows what it's like to be out of control and hurt the people you care for most. dead rotten, to be sure. he thinks to say that — or something simpler. "it happens to the best of us," maybe, but he doubts any words would reach connor so soon after the traumatic event. ]
First time on the mend, is it? [ he drags a hand across his jaw, a tad sheepish. then, quickly. ] I, erm, I've read your posts on the network — [ so he knows connor's an android and perhaps unfamiliar with the inconveniences of being human. ] — I'm aware of your unique situation, I mean. [ that is to say, he suspects connor never broke his arm at the play park or sprained his ankle on a cobblestone path, what with being made of tougher stuff. putting some cards on the table so he feels like less of a dick, mm-hmm, yes. ] So, dislocated, fractured, or broken?
[ smashed it. ]
no subject
his head tilts at fitz's myriad quirks, deciding he's anxious, unconventional, both. these are the nervous habits of someone who's too smart for their own good and the androids well aware of the sort. fidgeting is something of a habit and he misses the absence of the quarter coin that helps him calibrate, focus, and sharpen himself for whatever's ahead. maybe it's like that. maybe fitz is calibrating.)
Oh, it's broken. Two to four weeks' recovery time, the doctor said, barring any unfortunate delays. (it's flippant, adopting a blasé expression — he doesn't want to bother others with the fact that he's bothered.) My "unique situation" of being an android in a human body opens the door to many more life experiences.
(the unnecessary explanation is a hint in itself: connor doesn't mind talking about it and is probably the most objective between him and markus. markus tends to err on the side of defensive, while he is used to the occasionally ham-handed approaches to the topic.)
I remind myself of that daily.
—Have you ever broken any bones, Fitz? (asked with an abrupt turn to face him the moment they've skirted the next corner.) If you have any tips or personal accounts on what to expect from the healing process, I'd be very interested.
no subject
then connor's question startles a laugh out of him. ]
Sorry, it's not you, I just — [ he stifles the sound with a hand. ] Yes, yeah, I absolutely have. Broke an arm, fractured my hand, cracked my ribs. [ acute hypoxia, a gunshot to the gut... fitz being whole is a miracle of sinew and bones. ]
Expect sub-acute pain for the first few weeks. Shooting, most often. Chronic, duller pain afterward. [ a sideways glance, gaze sharp despite the amused crinkle at the corners of his eyes. ] Listen to your doctor, even if you don't like all the fuss.
[ and that's a read despite being couched in teasing. connor seems unconcerned for his own wellbeing.
luckily, a glowing sign tells them INERTIA is open, with the door swinging automatically as it registers their implants. it’s high-tech in a self-made and crafty way, with all its fixtures designed by individuals rather than the big corporations (take the fans, for instance, spinning above them with parts stripped from vehicles and recycling transports). a few patrons glint in the light, cybernetics poking out from collars and under sleeves. it would seem that others have found trouble today, injuries visible here and there, even as they play holo games and enjoy drinks at mismatched tables — still, the bar remains boisterous. if you start a fight here, you’ll be tossed out on your arse.
as soon as they cross the threshold, connor’s assumption that fitz is a regular is proven to be true. they haven’t even reached the bar when someone offers a quick quip. “about time someone roughed up that baby face,” and earns another laugh from fitz, among others nearby. bit dodgy, as promised, but not unfriendly. ]
no subject
which is good, because the second their ids check out and they're allowed inside the bar, connor's sticking very close to him. nearly shoulder to shoulder, not out of concern for their well-being but an instinct to follow the human into the human establishment — bars and pubs were almost always hanging signs on the windows and doors banning androids. it's ingrained now, even if he wasn't the most rule-yielding machine.
looking from the bartender to fitz to the patrons, he stays quiet while they carry on. he feels like he's with the lieutenant at the station or trawling jimmy's bar or being greeted amicably at the doors of crime scenes. save for being with markus, this is the closest he's felt to home.
so, naturally, he does what he'd do if he was there:)
Hello, my name is Connor. I like your pub. (standing proudly under the scrutiny of the eventually acceptant faces, he gets nods, quirks of brows, and a "haven't heard a lie like that in years, sit wherever you like."
looks down at fitz with a motion towards the busy eating area. you heard the man.)
Wherever you like.
no subject
he starts forward, heading towards a table flush against the far wall. ]
Just put the usual on my tab, [ quipped for connor’s amusement alone, as he passes a known staff member, nodding in greeting. ] plus one for my new friend.
[ unsurprisingly, fitz doesn't bring along unfamiliar faces (it's his fellow hi-jacks or kylo ren, in this particular circle), so "new friend" answers any questions. given the day that everyone has had (and the disheveled state of both fitz and connor), it's easy to accept connections formed in the chaos.
he picks the chair at the middle of the table rather than one of the two across from each other, putting connor easily within his reach. the blood in his hair's been a concern since he surprised fitz in the park — worth pushing to check, as soon as they've drinks in their hands. ]
no subject
Are we? (a question blurted out before a five second filter keeps him from it.) Friends?
(that's two people now who've decided to, with loki as a bit of a coin toss. he's never had this many and he suppresses a childish urge to text markus to notify him that he is, indeed, getting along with their fellow trafficking victims. maybe that's off-colour, so soon. at any rate, connor looks like he's been blessed by the new fact, craning his neck to look at one of the waitresses arriving at his shoulder with the drinks.
thanks her quietly and allows her to place his coaster and glass, admiring the foamy head on the pint and the way it sits just above the rim. surface tension.)
The novelty of it won't wear off. In a way, this place has allowed for some of the greatest discoveries, while simultaneously being a frustrating waste of time. We're not making any headway in our investigations, but my personal relationships have been developing.
(honest to a fault, really, pulling his beer off of the table in a shallow tilt towards fitz.)
I'd be happy to call you that.
no subject
for all his cleverness, it takes fitz a moment to follow connor's line of thought. the novelty of what? having friends? despite being a bit of a sad sack, fitz has never wanted for friends. he always had jemma at his side and then the team. even here, his longtime friends hold him together.
propping his elbows up on the table, he regards connor with open curiosity. it's too easy for fitz to listen with rapt attention and sip his drink as connor articulates an unfamiliar feeling. he watches for his reaction to the beer, too, hoping connor doesn't hate it. distantly, he recognises himself as more disarmed than he ought to be — not only as an agent of SHIELD but also as an engineer now intimately familiar with how this ends badly for all involved. only he's been on guard, even with those closest to him, for months now, knowing exactly when they spy something changed about him.
fresh eyes, a new friend — one happy to call him that — makes him soften. it could be good for the both of them. ]
A fair evaluation.
[ frustrating is certainly the word for their investigative efforts. a beat. ]
Only friends let friends fuss. [ said mildly. ] Just a bit. [ he holds up one finger. ] So if you'll let me check over your head wounds, then we're definitely friends. Full stop.
no subject
connor may be a complicated mess of earnestness, circuitry, and advanced, adapting code turned human, but he has simple desires. one of those desires is to grow as a person as markus believes he's capable of it and remaining loyal to the people who've helped him succeed in that. fitz is now one of those people.
he reaches up to brush the dry blood caked into his hairline and his fingers come away with red flakes.)
That is one of the easiest decisions I've had to make this week. Please— (motioning to his head with a scoot in, careful not to knock him.) It used to be blue. My blood, rather. A chemical meant to circulate energy and technical information. Now that it's red, it looks alien.
Humans are indisputably more complex.
no subject
without hesitation, fitz leans forward to peak at connor's mess of dried blood and disheveled hair. he knows cuts to the scalp are more bark the bite, but. ]
And if I dispute you on that?
[ an absentminded question. fitz extends his hand, carding it through connor's hair, checking for lacerations and any worrisome bumps. in this familiar space, only calm flickers through the empathy bond here, tinged with a light curiosity. despite not being a medical doctor, this sort of on-site care is part of fitz's post-mission routine, an interim fix until agents can receive treatment back on base. ]
no subject
eyelids sink, very clearly pacified into some zen state with each comb through. there's a shallow bump, swelling having gone down, from where he's obviously been struck in the head by something, the jagged cut both on it and curving into his hairline indicative of an item with a sharp edge. blunt, then sharp? fitz is leagues smarter than an average man, keen enough to tell the offending object was a smashed bottle, markus grabbing it off of a bar counter.
connor opens the good eye he didn't realize he shut, before the mottled one follows suit.
er, wait. what was he saying? something about disputing him?)
Then I suppose I'd have to argue your points until you see things from my perspective. (right, that.) I'm enjoying it, by the way.
...
The drink.
no subject
his brows quirk, faintly amused (and pleased, too, that his pick has gone over well). simmons always says that he likes to fuss — touch lingering to tidy connor's hair, pushing it back, out of his face. ]
Thought so. [ fitz draws his hand back, a tad reluctant, and maintains his position, angled toward connor. ] Takes the edge off. [ he tips his glass, held tight with both hands, watching the liquid shift. ]
Now, are you going to let me take care of you, [ his focus returns to connor, keen once more. ] or would you prefer to prolong your suffering?
[ he's js connor seems to be into that... ]
no subject
You're welcome to it. You're likely more familiar with this body than I am, having had one your whole life. (taking another sip of beer — the bitterness will be something to get used to, but it's such a rich taste that he doesn't mind.) I trust you.
(fitz will only have to deal with being ruthlessly mocked about his "friend" the next time he returns to have a pint.)
None of my injuries hurt thanks to the nature of my ability, so it's something you don't have to concern yourself with.
no subject
Hurt isn't the only thing. [ he makes a small noise of frustration. ] Bodies require — [ searching for the word. ] maintenance, like anything else.
[ yeah, everyone here is absolutely going to take the piss over the """friend""" that fitz spent the afternoon coddling. fortunately, connor alters the course of the conversation by mentioning his ability. ]
At all? Indefinitely? [ quickly. ] How would you describe your ability? Does it only work for yourself, or can you apply it to others?
no subject
It's the water intake that's really thrown me through a proverbial loop. I didn't think it'd be so difficult to remember when to drink. (now he's got scott on his back trying to mom him and he's set reminders on his heads-up display for every hour on the hour.
a spread of fingers on the surface of the table, tipping a salt shaker distractedly.)
The nature of my ability is something I've been calling "compartmentalization". Similar to... filing a document away to open at a more suitable time, when there are fewer people around and less at stake. I cannot remove the pain — or whatever feeling I choose to allay — and there seems to be a limit on how much I can bear to suppress.
(he glances at him sheepishly now, like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't be.)
I really haven't tried it on anyone else. Just myself.
no subject
he has a personal interest in androids and the mechanics of passing round powers, like parcels at christmas. connor's current ability would been marked red in his registry. critical threat. ophelia would have wanted it, whatever the cost, and given its embeddedness in the person, it would have been painful to take — a thought that has his gaze flickering down to his drink, mouth thin. where the hell are they getting their powers from, if not inhuman carriers? ]
How much? [ asked immediately. ] How much can you suppress, I mean. [ it's still too clinical, not the question that someone better might ask, like are you okay or how much are you using it?. he recovers, tipping his head back to regard connor. ] Could test it on me, if you want.
[ what scientist would pass on the opportunity to puzzle something out? being the first to try it, too, is an exciting thing. micro-discoveries about their new circumstances are still, well, discoveries.]
no subject
(but connor realizes something he only briefly considered once before. earlier, when they were pinning that man and stealing his suffering from him.
fitz is a man who takes risks in spite of his own well-being.)
I haven't tested the limits of it, either. What I do know is that it facilitated the aggressive behaviour I injured my friends with.
no subject
[ the familiarity of that description strikes him at once, a fair assessment of his own cruel behaviour. sounds like the sort of man his father would be proud of, too. ]
Hm. [ a hum of acknowledgment, for his concerns. ] Only if it doesn't transfer hurt, and you could help people, but you don't know how...
[ dot dot dot. it's the same approach he took with ciri: what if someone needed you, and you weren't prepared to help? a bit manipulative, but not without merit, as a consideration. ]
no subject
(but fitz's words, as "devil's advocate" as they are, leave him conflicted.
of course he wants to help, but if he learned to use it against others then what kind of damage could he cause if something like this outbreak happens again? if he loses control again, like so many times before? it's happened twice now, he'd be a fool to ignore a potential third.
fingers curl into a tight fist in plain sight. connor knows he should hide his frustration, but that'd be counterintuitive to what markus taught him. that sometimes these feelings are necessary; he can't ignore them forever.
and isn't that the very nature of his ability?)
I don't want to hurt anyone anymore.
no subject
Fitz realises he made the same mistake in approaching Connor’s powers indelicately. ]
Go easy on yourself now. [ a beat, as he finds the words. ] The sort of person who’d swoop in to rescue me out there doesn’t seem like the hurtful type — even if that’s a recent development.
[ They don’t know each other well enough for him to offer as much comfort as he offered his dear friend, but he reaches out to cover Connor’s hand, expression soft, the corners of his mouth quirked slightly in a gesture of optimism. A touch of calm, smoothed over the back of Connor’s hand, the same as when they were facing the afflicted (perhaps undercut by guilt over engendering Connor’s reaction in the first place), and he pulls away again. ]
I’ve known people with all manner of dangerous abilities, and they’ve figured out how to help, not hurt. Just gotta know how to use it, like anything else, yeah?
no subject
it brings him back. sitting in a room with carlos ortiz's android, trying to extract a confession. forcing him the same way.
why the hell did he do that?)
Wait— (connor catches fitz's wrist before he can pull his arm too far away for him to reach.) Wait, I'll do it. Just don't try to withstand it, Fitz, you have to tell me to stop if it works. Got it?
(the hold is firm, but one fitz could easily dislodge at the first fearful opportunity, trapping him in their proximity for the duration of the test. the glow of his chest is visible beneath his chin as his activated ability sheds its subtle light. not nearly enough to tip off the patrons sitting around them.)
Do you feel anything?
(he won't, connor's power hasn't developed past self-application.
and he never planned to shuck his pain off on fitz to start. a bit of an unfair feint, a lie tailored to test his own restraint and the budding trust of his new relationship. it's an opportunity to build more between them, without doing much of anything at all.)
no subject
it's only then that it occurs to him how playing with other people's abilities might be dangerous, with potential damage beyond the obvious physical complications. he's not really the fitz who helped daisy anymore, is he?
even breaths. the warmth of his former reassurances cools. this is a trust exercise, isn't it? one he can't afford to blow, after initiating the damn thing. ]
Got it. [ but would he, really? if connor managed to manipulate fitz's experience of pain, to lessen it, of course he'd say something, but if connor was able to transfer hurt, well — for a long moment, they wait. fitz flexes his fingers, releasing the tension in his muscles, eying the easy curve of his own hand, no further discomfort or release to be found. his emotions pick up again, flowing back from a compartmentalisation that had nothing to do with connor. ]
[ finally, a sideways glance at his new friend, brows knit and frown tight, as if he might deliver the bad news. ] Feel your freezin' hand.
[ one corner of his mouth hooking into a smile. that's a negative on the superpower front, partner. ]
(no subject)
good to wrap up or end here!!