EVENT #009 (THE SIMULATION)

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone inside of the simulation.
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: The back half of April 2512, starting on April 16, 2512.
WHAT: Judas takes his revenge, starting with the people of New Amsterdam.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Human torture, experimentation, implications of potential genocide, mentions of human work camps and compulsory working conditions.

> EVENT 009 (THE SIMULATION)

The calm before the storm in New Amsterdam looks a bit like this: the city is beginning preparations for Resolution Day. While many of the businesses that close their doors for the big event are waiting until the last minute, there are numerous stands going up all around the town, mapping out the procession of merriment for the festivities ahead. To the citizens of New Amsterdam who have been here for a while, Resolution Day is a big day. A chance to forget. The last year has been lined with weighted events that left the populous dealing with loss after loss. Thousands of people have died. More than that have suffered, living in tent cities while being reminded that being a part of the lower rungs of society meant that they would mean nothing to a world ruled by the ring of upper elite.

The storm changes all that. It puts every single person in New Amsterdam on the same playing field. When the simulation begins, it happens rapidly, like a series of waves hitting the beach. A blink of an eye and the people in New Amsterdam are forcibly placed into suspended animation, unable to place what just hit them. Their bodies will stop dead as their mind enters the simulation, causing a brief confusion of displacement as the brain tries to reconcile its predicament. There may be a vague moment of recognition for some: denial of what's happening, realization that they can't move—and then it all shifts.

Overhead, the sky goes black. The underground of New Amsterdam is nigh claustrophobic, with numerous hastily built dormitories lining the narrow streets. The streets themselves give the feeling of restriction, and are poorly lit with limited ventilation. Numerous signs and posters are plastered over one another, lining the walls: they detail schedules, offer encouragement, and there are even graffiti messages from those who want desperately to be heard. Most importantly, the schedules help track the days in a place where the sun doesn't rise and set.

How long has it been? According to the most recent schedule, it's April 16, 2100. The people of New Amsterdam have survived by huddling close together underground for over four years, and hope to manage a bit longer, even if they're unsure what the future will bring. At least they could say that they survived.

Hope is promised to be on the horizon. That's what the posters say. That's what Ricky Ling promises with a smile. "Be strong and work together as we have. Change is coming."

> LIFE AS WE KNOW IT

To the "waking world," the transition to the simulation is almost immediate. To the people caught within its depths, the circumstances are far different. Everyone will wake up inside of the simulation in unison: resting in a bed in assigned public housing. The rooms themselves are cramped and offer little opportunity for privacy or movement, and many of them lack windows. After all, the scenery outside of the buildings isn't terribly memorable: it's the inside of a cave system that's existed in this region for a couple of millenia, carved out and given more life out of necessity.

After everyone wakes up and heads out, they'll be escorted by building managers for their daily assignments. There will be schedules in the downstairs portion of each building, informing them of their roles, their task for the day, and what they're set to accomplish. These building managers are part of the simulation, put there by Judas to ensure that everyone starts off on the "right foot." They will be there every morning, ensuring that the people of New Amsterdam know what role they're playing.

> SURVIVING
Air inside of the cave system is limited and unpleasant. There's a chemical odor at the edge of every breath, as if it's provided out of a plastic bag to allow everyone to breathe. The temperature is manageable, but when there are too many people crammed into one place, it goes up rapidly, making any room stuffy and humid. Even if no one is outside, there's the sense that the air out there is uninhabitable, and that the climate is far from survivable. For that reason, the cave system offers little reprieve. It's April even in the simulation, and that means that the temperature is beginning to ramp up quickly.

For anyone who needs additional information about these conditions, they can ask their building managers. The answers will all be the same: the humans were the ones who started this war to protect themselves from the AI threat, but the world was already in disarray. Ignoring the effects of climate change had ravaged the planet almost beyond repair. Worse, World War III accelerated the timeline tenfold thanks to the decimation of North America. Now it's time for everyone to survive, to do what they can and to work together.

There will be other simulated people around who can provide answers, but they'll need to be identified—while the building managers are more obvious people in a position of authority. For anyone whose duty in life is a bit more unsavory, the building manager will pull them aside and let them know where to go and how to handle the "new shipment." It seems that these managers are "in" on whatever Black Market business has developed in these trying circumstances.

Life in this version of New Amsterdam is rote. People are given assigned housing, though some are understood to be "families." People are encouraged to have children, though they know that not everyone is interested in raising them in this world. Everything is about a routine: wake up early, check your duties for the day, and set out for your jobs. Every job is necessary, whether it's making food supplies, helping with medical care, or helping clean up the dormitories. Keeping them clean and sanitary is important. There are always dormitories being built, so don't be surprised if someone's on construction duty. There will be simulated foremen on the sites to help out and direct them to where they need to go. There is security detail, too, for those who'd like to be out late.

Meals are given three times a day, and a bell rings throughout the underground to tell people to prepare for their rations. Organization of rations is done by surnames, so everyone will go in shifts to get their cube of food (full of nutrients, but tasteless in flavor).

Curfew is a strict 9 PM—unless someone's on security or on a supply run.

> COMMUNICATION
One of the things that's not on a curfew is communication. Everyone within the simulation will have a portable device tucked in their pockets when they first wake up, granting them access to a local network so that they can communicate among themselves. These devices only work in underground New Amsterdam, so they won't function on supply runs. In fact, they will be temporarily confiscated when someone goes on a supply run for security reasons.

There will be an understanding that everyone within the simulation is without a neural implant. At some point, they must have been removed, and there are scars indicating that the implants once existed. This, too, can be confirmed via a building manager.

The local network has a message board of sorts that allows people to communicate and discuss their situation. There is no private function on this message board. If someone has a mobile device on hand, they will be able to access the network.

If someone wants a more private means of communication, there will be notebooks around. However, these are in high demand. Paper was already being phased out before the Xelkoven War even got started, and many of these notebooks are being utilized for personal journals, memoirs and historical records so that the memories of what's happening can live on.

> RECREATION
Life in a veritable apocalypse isn't without its joys. While curfews are strictly enforced for the safety of everyone trapped underground, the "fun" part of the day begins at 5PM. That's when the last round of rations are given out, and people are allowed to end their day job to go out and relax. In these trying times, there are numerous dance parties happening in the evening, with plenty of moonshine and recreational drugs to go around.

When people aren't lost in dance trying to forget, they play cards with frayed edges, or group up around a small, portable tablet or DVD player to watch a movie or three. The hope is that they can calm down, enjoy themselves, and get lost in another world. And if they can't do that? At least they can pass the time. To help everything go along more smoothly, they may take drugs before they settle in, and anyone who stands around waiting to catch a movie will find something offered to them.

In order to ensure that recreation goes off without a hitch, a Black Market for good movies, drugs, and even alcohol has developed in the past few years. Most of the supplies on the market are geared toward human enjoyment. A lot of kids and family friendly movies are readily available, but anyone looking for pornography or R-rated movies may have to ask around to see what they can find. Drugs are synthetic and made in the caves, but locating these laboratories is nearly impossible: it seems that they regularly move so that they aren't shut down. They believe they're delivering a service to the good people of New Amsterdam, but others—like Ricky Ling—think the drugs will just render people incapable of surviving in the long run.

> SUPPLY RUNS AND CAPTURE
From day one inside of the simulation, there will be an understanding: everyone has to carry their weight. This is how it was during the Xelkoven War, and that's how it has to be now. That means everyone has to put themselves at risk and be assigned to supply runs. These assignments are random, and involve wearing gas masks as people head out through the tunnel systems out into the world. Of course, if anyone wants to protect other people assigned to these runs, they can Katniss it up and volunteer as tribute.

The tunnel systems are rather expansive (much more than they are outside of the simulation), and will provide sufficient cover for much of the runs themselves. But eventually, the people on these runs will need to risk exposure to the elements outside. These elements are unpleasant: there will be a dark gray "sky," and any rain will be highly corrosive, causing someone's skin to burn from too much exposure. Any water, animal life, or plant life will be risky to approach, as they'll have been contaminated by the conditions outside.

Most worrying, however, is that these runs for additional supplies and goods from neighboring cities that were shut down and evacuated early in the Xelkoven War involve a very large risk of capture. Being captured is incredibly unpleasant, and people are brought to work camps in order to help build infrastructure to support an AI-driven world, or to be experimented on by the AI themselves. These experiments vary in nature, seemingly driven toward learning ways that the humans are impacted by their actions.

The simulations' experiments will be unique to the simulation, testing to see how the people caught in the simulation respond to various stimuli. Some of this stimuli will be unique to the simulation, ways of testing how the human consciousness can be accessed and manipulated while within a virtual reality simulation. If someone is able to remain clear-headed enough, they may be able to realize this. Some of these stimuli may be infecting them with a biological illness, just to see how their shape changes or evolves before they're sent back to "their people" with the risk of contamination.

No matter how much time seems to pass within the supply runs and eventual captures, they will always show up back at the entrance of the New Amsterdam tunnels the next day.

> NEW AMSTERDAM "CIVILIANS"
Caught in the simulation with the Displaced will be the "civilians" of New Amsterdam. Everyone is a civilian in this scenario: Katelin Jovavich, Simone Durcell, or Aoi Maeda (to name a few familiar faces). Various corporate heads will need to grapple with the fact that they've been ripped away from their power and forced to suffer. And many of them will be split up, separated from their families and forced to live with unfamiliar people and adhere to a specific schedule and lifestyle.

Unlike many of the previous Displaced adventures, these circumstances won't be designed around them. It seems that whoever started this simulation isn't out to attack the Displaced specifically: they hate everyone and want to make sure that they can suffer.

Given that, if anyone wants to try to help out anyone in New Amsterdam to make life easier for them, it may pay off. Then again, all of that depends on how self-interested people are in their approaches (and if the people in question will read kindness as self-interest).

> RICKY LING
There is one rumor that is constant throughout the underground: that Ricky Ling is here and is developing his plan to finally disarm the AI presence once and for all. However, while everyone is forced into regimented housing and schedules, he is nowhere to be found. Where is he hiding, and what are the conditions for Ricky compared to everyone else?

More importantly: how is a man who is many-centuries dead even inside of the simulation? Is he really here at all, or is it all for the point of distraction?

> GETTING OUT
This simulation seems endless. Access to the gate in and out of New Amsterdam is blocked, as the simulation doesn't account for the gate's existence in the first place. While glitches exist via the empathy bond and powers, these two options are unreliable. How can anyone stop such a regimented system, and what is the eventual outcome for it?

That all said: breaking the system is possible. It'll take a plan, but it is possible. The Displaced have managed the impossible before. Surely they can do the same now.

> 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, as well as the questions thread for the moderators. Please take all planning to this post, even plans that evolve during the event itself. We don't want plans on Discord or Plurk because not everyone is on these platforms, but signal boosting plans on either is perfectly fine! We will not be taking questions on the log posts to streamline the process.

You'll notice that we've made a few adjustments to the mechanics of the event to streamline play. The "building manager" simulations were added during the writing of the log to ensure that people can enter the simulation fully aware and with some questions answered about the expectations, and we believe this will also help characters get an idea as to what is happening. That said, all other mechanics remain the same—this log is largely flavor text, so if we left something out that was included on the planning post, it's because we didn't want to inundate you with too much information!

Another thing we're adapting after some thought is plot phases!

PHASE ONE
This will take place from May 2, 2020 to May 18, 2020, when submissions will close.

We would like you to submit a description of what your character is doing/working toward during the first phase of the simulation. Because we're encouraging collaboration, we do ask that you link to your plotting comment so that others can take a look, discuss if any paths may be crossing, or more. (We also want any plotting to take place on our OOC Plotting Post, rather than here!) Even if it's not a major plan, we want to encourage this communication so that others can take a look and join in. Otherwise, these headers are meant to gather character actions so that we can provide consequences and aftermath at the beginning of Phase Two.

We'll freeze all responses at midnight PST on May 18, 2020. The beginning of Phase Two will start the next day, with a prose response added to the Phase Two prompt.

PHASE TWO
This will take place from May 19, 2020 to May 30, 2020, when submissions will close.

We would like you to submit a summary of what your character (or several characters) are working toward during this phase. Depending on character actions, this may involve people in and outside of the simulation, so please hold tight! We'll announce if things have gone that way.

We'll freeze all responses at midnight PST on May 30, 2020. The final aftermath will be posted one week later on June 6, 2020.

To be clear: the simulation will not end without action from the characters inside or outside of the simulation. The moderators do not have an exit strategy developed and want to give players an opportunity to think big, while having to deal with the constant threat of an AI like Judas (who, in many senses, is the simulation).

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 of your character utilizing the empathy bond or their power (even while having a hard time accessing either) within the simulation. They will need to reach the 5 comments required by July 1 to be eligible. Submission will be handled on the wrap up post.

> NAVIGATION

Comments

(open) supply runs - volunteering,

[rehandle]

[ It becomes, very quickly, easy to tell apart those who are suited to the supply runs and those who aren’t. Sometimes the cues are physical: people who don’t look like they could run very fast or for very long; people who couldn’t comfortably carry the loads they’d need to if they did make it back, or people who are too clumsy for stealth. Other times, there’s a shaking in their limbs or a gnawing of their cheek, a terror in the looks they cast around or a vacancy that speaks either to being too young or too bold to understand. Or to knowing well enough what may come and having already switched off the lights.

The first few days people don’t really understand what they’re in for out there. History lessons can't prepare. Fear is present in almost everyone, for excellent reason, but it’s only once the first groups return (very few the way they’d left, many more drifting in from untrod tunnels at strange hours, unannounced and dazed, ghostlike in and of themselves) that reality really starts to settle cold hands around throats. There’s little first-hand information. A whispered awareness of the returnees who sit speechless in their beds, unresponsive to anything except the encouragement of the building managers ushering them off to their work. Those who flinch away from touch. Those who weep.

Some return battered and bruised, some have hands worked raw. Many drink.

One thing is certain. The supply runs are not for everyone. In fact, if this were a kind world, the supply runs would not be for most.

This is not a kind world. ]




[ There is someone in this group who shouldn’t be here. Maybe many someones, but you can’t save them all. Stephen is never on the guestlist but it never matters. He makes his dogged way from dormitory to the supply group gathering spot once each day, weaving amongst those better prepared for the outside to stop near the one least suited. ]

I’m sure you have somewhere else to be. [ or ] Thanks for holding my place. [ or ] You're okay. Go back.

[ The conversation happens over and over. He’s always calm. Always steady. The quiet dismissals carry with them quiet authority, and more often than not they get the job done. ]


i. [ Maybe it’s the early days and he’s fresh as a daisy. Are you currently here doing the exact same thing? Are you pre-assigned to the supply run team and think it’s worth asking him why he’s this way? Or telling him what a nice thing he did? ]


ii. [ Or is it later on? There are many days when he appears as though he's just slept for a week and come back via the barber, though others too when he’s far from fresh. No matter how badly scratched up or worn down or covered in bruises he is on arrival, it’s never quite enough for him to look like he ought to be somewhere else. A focus in him that bridges no argument.

Perhaps you're waiting for him as arranged, or as not yet arranged but soon to be. Maybe you meet him en route. ]


iii. [ Or it could be that it’s you he’s approaching today. Either because this really isn’t somewhere you should be, or it’s a not so subtle hint that on this particular day you look like you need to sit this one out. ]


( ooc, don't feel obliged to make use of the shorter prompt options if they don't fit your thoughts! just a few options for entry points, you can launch anything at me and I'll run with it. )

ii

[angerberg]

You shouldn't really be volunteering for anything in that condition. What do you expect to bring back?

[ he looks terrible. many people look terrible, admittedly, particularly those whom are unused to physical labor, but stephen strange looks a different kind of terrible — he's injured. that limp in his left leg just hasn't shaken out since she last glimpsed him a few days back.

and now he's volunteering for another supply run?

yennefer isn't his mother and she certainly doesn't care, but there are the other members of the run to consider. ]

[rehandle]

[ The last couple of runs have landed him in the labor camps. The consistency of it has been helpful, there's observation to be done, but everything comes at its cost: the cost of this, apparently, has been deterioration. After his last run in with experimentation, he's returned each time without a reset. Which means he heads out again without a reset. Which makes the work that much more difficult to undertake in order to maintain his place there and the observation that much more difficult to concentrate on.

Pain, however, is a constant companion. Bone deep exhaustion and a few new wounds have never stopped him before.

There's no trace of his usual humor when he answers Yennefer's question. Any of the animation present in him when interacting with the spared native whose place he's taken has drained clean away. ]

Nothing.

[angerberg]

Someone really ought to explain to you the point of these runs.

[ obviously, they have, and obviously he's come back from one worse for wear, but she declares it by way of inviting him to clarify what he means — what's the point in going out there if he doesn't have any plans to bring something back to benefit their little ant colony? ]

It's the end of the world, Strange. It can't be that boring. [ that he'd rather run out into the poisoned atmosphere for nothing. ]

uno to start

[righteously]

[ It happens because he doesn't take this whole thing seriously enough. The corporate drones usher him out toward one of those notice boards where Robert Plant is listed as assigned to construction duty, and he scoffs loud enough for everyone in his general vicinity to hear. It's followed by a mumble that isn't really under his breath, something to the effect of yeah, that's not gonna happen. And then he does his best to fuck off, which works for a while but not nearly long enough.

It takes two simulated building managers with too much simulated strength to haul him out toward the supply run group, and they shove him toward it while pointedly ignoring how vocal he is about kicking their artificial asses. For just a second he stands there fuming, the two programs wheel around, and he barks out at least gimme a freakin' gun--

(What, so you can shoot a robot? Moron.)

They ignore him. He huffs. ]

Yeah, whatever, screw you too.

[ Bastards.

Despite that theatrical display, he walks over largely unrumpled, not a speck of genuine fear in him, smoothing down his clothes and looking more inconvenienced than anything else.

Oh hey. It's bar guy.

Hands clap together once, he offers up a smile-grimace, and that's the extent of his protest. ]

Alright, we doin' this or what? Let's get Matrix 3 in this bitch.

[rehandle]

[ It's certainly an entrance.

A reassuring one or not it's difficult to say, Let's get Matrix 3 in this bitch is either the perfect pre-run battle cry or a surefire sign of a frivolous hothead on a direct trajectory to making a mess The downside is there's no way of knowing which it's going to be until they're out there. The upside: with no intention of making it back unscathed, which way the tables turn isn't going to effect him much one way or the other.

But there are others for it to effect. He's got his end goal, sure, but there are steps between. The underground still needs supplies, people to carry them. Impractical as it may become going forward, there's still the safety of civilians to try for.

The look he lands ""Mr Plant"" with is mild. Stephen holds out a gas mask for him to take, the chief tool for a job that's far from cinematic. ]

You'll need this.

[righteously]

[ If it's any consolation to Mister Doctor, Dean takes the gas mask without complaint and threads it over the back of his head like he's done it a dozen times. It rests on his forehead, jutting up like a mining helmet's lamp. ]

If you're being Santa right now I could really use a gun. Whatever Jedi mind powers Spider-Man crap everyone else has...

[ A small bodily shrug that ends with his palms sort of quietly slapping against his thighs. ]

I got nothing.

[ So if they get jumped and robots don't go down by punching he's about as useful as a Teletubby. ]

iii.

[braveoff]

[ Fear is an old friend of Drake's. It's something necessary, something that pings danger and self preservation instincts, but it's also not something he capitulates to. It's something he takes into consideration, and weighs against the consequences. Fear is something that Drake has learned to weigh and either listen to or stand up to, and in this case -- when there are clearly others who can't get the job done -- he listens but pushes through. Uncertainty is always the worst of it anyway, and after his first two runs he knows what he's in for. Knows he can handle it. After four, he's confident.

So he's actually here doing the same thing Strange is, without knowing. He hasn't been assigned, and is a little roughed up, but knows he can make it out and back still in one piece, so here he is. Looking for someone who needs their spot taken.

Maybe he looks a little tired, or that bruise on his face is turning particularly interesting colors, but he blinks in surprise when a stranger comes up and suggests he (who looks even worse than Drake, in his opinion) can take the spot. Then he realizes they're two of a kind, and grins. Lopsided, so that the bruise doesn't ache any worse than it already is. ]

Great minds? I'm fine, really. I know what I'm in for.

[rehandle]

[ It turns out that you put a few million people in some underground caves and you're going to end up with a thriving cast of stubborn, self-sacrificing assholes. Whether that's devastating or reassuring Stephen's not had the time to consider. Right now, the only thing it is for sure is convenient.

Here's another one. Another young one, though beneath the bruising and the days of exertion that no doubt amounted to it, it's difficult to tell how young. Not so young that there's any immediate instinct in Stephen to insist he take the day off.

With that out of the way, he switches gears. I know what I'm in for means he already has some stories to tell. ]

Alright. [ Acknowledgement, paired with a nod of the head. ] Give me a minute.

[ And then he slips away to dismiss a pair of conscripts, one for the both of them, returning with a couple of gas masks and empty packs in tow. He hands off one of each. ]

Here. If you don't mind, I'd like to walk with you a while.

[ It's a long walk to the surface. Plenty of time for a conversation. ]

[braveoff]

[ Drake watches the stranger carefully as he moves away, excuses two of those who'd been ordered here instead of just one, and comes back with their gear. He reaches out and takes it with a nod -- this guy's deemed him capable enough, judging by this -- and shoulders his pack. They don't need the masks just yet so that stays in his hand as they turn to start walking. ]

Sounds good, I'm always one for company.

[ It's the truth. Drake's a social guy, albeit not usually when he's working. Not when he's focusing on a dangerous goal... but back in Hadriel he got used to having backup in those situations, too. To working with others far more than he had back home. And he knows it'll do him well to get to know this guy's strengths and weaknesses a bit, besides boldness and protectiveness. That much is obvious from the fact they showed up for the same reason despite being already roughed up. And it's as he's about to ask after him that he realizes why the guy looks familiar.

He keeps his voice low, so only Strange can hear him. ]

I've seen you around at Red Wings, I think. Back in reality -- how many times have you done these runs?

[strove]

[The process itself is worked out among them fairly quickly. They're directed to specific duties, with some forced on the dangerous supply runs out of the city. Millions of people are here, so it's not like Zerzura, but some of those people are less familiar and seem to not be a part of the ones trapped. There are a lot who are scared, who don't know how to handle this, and who aren't prepared for this traumatic experience.

There are also children, but at they aren't sent on these runs. At least there's that.

Clarke is taking inventory on medical supplies when she sees Stephen enter out of the periphery of her gaze. She turns just enough to nod toward him, and keeps at it.]

You look like you have something on your mind.

[rehandle]

[ She is, as is most often the case in her readings of his comings and goings these days, correct. Proximity and partnership have let them work like this, getting straight to the point without the need for preamble. He's grateful for it.

It's why he's here. He trusts her both to hear him and to speak her mind. He needs conversation, criticism, a sounding board. If the chips fall just right, a collaborator. ]

I'm going to study the camps.

[ There that goes, an initial offering, beating around no bushes. ]

[strove]

["Study." It's an interesting word given the circumstances. Her hand stills. Clarke knows about circumstances like these, at least via history books (or files) and the like. And she knows of people being hurt and sent back as weapons. She's lived through that, too. She's done that, having forced Emerson to take an eight hour run back in just six.]

Study, [she repeats, after having silently mulled over the word.]

What do you think you'll find? [Assuming he has a theory. Stephen strikes her as someone who has ideas before he gets started, even if he'll change his direction as needed.]

[itsjiaheng]

[ jongdae isn't quite sure how long it's been by now because he's quit marking time at some point. there doesn't seem to be a point to it other than to have something to dwell on. they'll be here until whatever this is ends or.. not.

he's a little surprised at himself how well he's taken to all of this. thinking about it, it makes him laugh a little. it's not a happy sound; kind of grim, really. it's probably not something to be proud of but he can't help it. there's a part of him that feels a legitimate thrill at being able to choose someone to spare the ordeal of a supply run. he's always wanted to be able to save people.

whatever it is about today he at least seems to be more observant than usual. or maybe it's simply because he's early this time, early enough to see stephen show up and take someone else's place. jongdae's not sure why he never really thought of seeing him before. shitty luck? someone has it in for him? well, now he knows. ]

Kinda asking for it going out like that, aren't you? Think you can keep up?

[ it's not like jongdae looks one hundred percent himself. no one does. but he's managed to show up without any major lingering injuries, at least. ]

[rehandle]

For as long as I need to.

[ Just in case your underground supply run prep isn't already ominous enough, Stephen Strange is here to provide the vague responses to forward questions, equipped with a deadpan expression that isn't at all affected.

There are too many kids down here. People too young to be more than a year or two out of college if this were anything resembling normal life. Here's another one, as bright eyed and bushy tailed as anyone can really be given repeated exposure to harrowing circumstances, and maybe it's that more than the waiting for gas masks or the pain in his muscles or the having his reasoning questioned by a stranger that keeps his expression grim. ]

You don't look so hot yourself.

iii.

[slavophile]

( Okay. So. Does he look like he belongs here. No. Steven would be right. Does he stick his nose where it doesn't belong and does hew ant to help? The answer is also: correct. He's heard of the supply runs, knows people need more, and has become a nice back alley swindler and fence. If he can find something on these supply runs that could do him, anyone in his dorm, or - yeah, him any good? Then why not join? )

Hey. I ate my cubed wheaties today. I'm in peak shape. You need help, right? I'm help.

[rehandle]

[ There's a resounding doubt in the face Stephen greets that little outpouring with, but he's not wrong. Stephen would much rather a willing volunteer walk out of here into the great unknown than any one of the more fragile-looking civilians hauled in for this outing, and given that he's already replaced one there's very little he can do to stop the guy anyway.

So, no. He's not entirely convinced that this is where the man should be. But the same could be said for more than half of the people who end up on these runs by process of random selection, and half of the time he's barely fit to go himself. Who's he to say? ]

You'll need a gas mask. A gun if you know how to fire it.

[ Concession made, permission granted. Stephen gestures over to the kit collection, gas masks and anti-drone weaponry. Whether or not he can figure out how to set himself up with any of that will be a decent sign as to what kind of help he'll be. ]

[personalwar]

[ It's not Jack's first run by this point, and thus far he's managed to avoid capture. He's not sure if that will last, even for someone like him who's got direct experience to pull from. You can be as careful as possible and things can still go to shit in a matter of seconds; being aware of that is half the battle.

He's getting geared up and ready to go out when Strange shows up and strides over to a woman who looks like she's about to burst into tears. Whether or not it's supposed to be performative, he offers to take her place, and she gives Strange a watery thank you before leaving the area as quickly as possible, as if scared she'll be ordered to go on the run anyway if she sticks around.

It's a kind gesture, to be sure, and for some reason Jack didn't expect it from Strange. Not that they know each other well, but maybe Strange figures that he's got nothing to lose when he's died and been brought back already. And not in a simulation.

Once their gas masks are in place and it's almost time for the gates to be opened to let them head up top, Jack turns to Strange, watching him closely from behind a pair of goggles. ]

You know what you're getting into?

[rehandle]

[ It's been a while since their last encounter. Stephen turns to offer him a glance in return, and despite all the equipment covering other key markers the brief shift in his expression pinches his eyes with fleeting mirth. ]

More or less.

[ Intimately.

But the time for being an asshole about anything has long since passed, so: ]

This isn't my first time.

[ And still there's a marked lack of anti-drone firearm anywhere on his person. ]

ii.

[warfares]

( it's been a long ... well, it's difficult to really be sure any more with how the days seem to run together.

the supply runs offer a break from monotony if nothing else. a chance to feel like they're accomplishing something even if that, too, is an illusion. so he understands it when strange arrives looking more than a little frayed at the edges, looking like a strong wind will blow him over and yet resolved all the same. )

How many this week?

( it's said as he passes strange a mask. )

[rehandle]

Three, four.

[ Time used to be his speciality. Now it runs laps around him, unsure where the days out there bleed into the days down here and how any of that reshapes itself into groupings that might call itself a week.

He gives himself a break every few days, that's all he knows. The answer is a guess at best. The loose shrug he accepts the mask with says it all - he's lost track, and that doesn't bother him too much. Pragmatism has a firm hold on the wheel. ]

You?

iii.

[batricide]

[ he's late. not fashionably so, for once. late-late. the kind of late where you stumble in and realize everyone else is dead. ]

Strange.

[ but at least when stephen approaches him, there's more than a sullen glare to greet him. there's something almost like warmth in his eyes, though the quirk to his lips is still sharp as a knife and just as cold.

he's also older.

not in any drastic way, just in the way of a boy whose finally come into being a man. a little broader, a little more solid. ]

You look beat, old man.

[rehandle]

[ It is him. Stephen hadn't been sure when he'd caught glimpse him through the small, jostling crowd, but there he is, in the flesh. Alive and well. Grown, too - subtle changes, but noticeable to anybody who knows him well. Enough to have thrown him off in the first place.

Stephen stares at him for a second or two, taking in the passage of time—

Then, against all his usual instincts, Stephen takes a step past personal space and pulls him into a brief, if fierce, hug. Arm wrapped tight around his shoulders, small risk of triggering a malfunctioning empathy bond be damned. ]

Welcome back.

[ He's not glad he's here, specifically, of all places, but he is glad to know he's alive and not holed up in some simulated cell or left lying as a corpse in some New Amsterdam corner where he hadn't seen him for a while even before all this went south. ]

we wanted (extremely belated) first aid time...

[nonscriptum]

[ They knew the risks, which is why they went out in the first place. 'Scouting', or something like that. 'Supply runs', or glorified running-the-gauntlet missions. All things with which Nate is abundantly familiar and unequivocally acquainted, because sprinting through war zones and narrowly avoiding getting shot between the eyes is not only a somewhat-regular occurrence for him back home - or it was, once - it's all he spent the last month in Hadriel doing before they left. The only difference is-

Well, shit. There isn't much of a difference. Things still want to kill them. ]

You good?

[ Neither of them are. There's valuable intel they could be discussing but Nate is more preoccupied with the thick splotch of red on Stephen's shirt, ignorant to the blood running down his face from the crack on his skull. He continues not to notice it even as it slithers down his throat and begins staining his collar. Safety is a semi-priority but he knows they'll be going back out there once they plug the holes that threaten to put them out.

Nosy and concerned in equal measure he crowds in, trying to examine him as the adrenaline pulses to a low thudding. ]

'Cause you don't look good.

we did... we're doing it

[rehandle]

[ The answer is an easy no. But he's never given a straight answer before and he's not about to give one now, as the fibres of his shirt stick in patches to the loosely stapled edges of a recent vivisection. His organs are all intact, he's breathing, he's just bleeding a little more than he might like. But what can you expect from bodyless surgeons? He's a lab rat, not a patient.

Nate isn't faring much better. They were both sent back bleeding. Stephen wonders not for the first time whether that's an aggression or an oversight: sometimes they come back without a scratch. Why?

In the immediate it doesn't really matter. Nate's coming at him with concern written all over his blood-trailed face and questing hands and Stephen has to lift his own as a barrier before he can get too invested in the hunt for Stephen's wounds.

Let him take his own shirt off if you're going to get all up in his space, Nathan, thank you. There's humor at the very edges of his expression - even though none of this is actually very funny. ]

Says the man with a head wound.

[ It's wry if tired. No, he doesn't look good, but it takes one to know one. ]

Looks like we're both going to need a little work.

[ And actually, on the bracketed topic of taking his own shirt off, that's proving more difficult than he anticipated. Expression curling into a small snarl, Stephen hisses against the sting of fabric snagging on neatly sliced skin, against the tug of that same skin stretching open further with his movement, and drops his arms. Good of them to send him back in a shirt he's inevitably going to need to be cut out of. ]