ARRIVAL LOG 004

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: Night of August 05
WHAT: The fourth arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy. Further notes at end of log.

> ARRIVAL LOG #004

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 four people in black body armor seated opposite you, as well as a man in dark gray scrubs. You realize there are others next to 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 bench under you. To your left, an armored interior door, two more people visible, the movement of streets passing through a windshield. 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. The guard opposite you stands and comes to unbuckle you from the bench, helping you to your feet. Your limbs feel wooden and heavy, slow to move. One guard opens the back of the vehicle, bright sunshine and the rushing sound of a crowd flooding in, a heavy wave of warm air. The nurse moves to stand at the back, checking each passenger over one by one just before they're helped out of the vehicle, quick and methodical. He doesn't climb out after you, moving to sit as the last passenger is unloaded. The guards keep their heads down. Their actions are quick, firm, but not entirely unkind. Once all the passengers are out, they climb back into the vehicle and close the doors. The engine powers up again, and then 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. The sound of the crowd nearby carries on uninterrupted. Music, chatter and laughter, the occasional sound of a large splash into water. At the end of the alley opposite to where the van left you, the street opens out to a wide artificial river. Gathered on the banks, on several boats across the surface and in the water are hundreds of people: a giant pool party under the blazing summer sun. ◉ 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 PARTY

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. Who's ready for bus #4? Looks like they want you to have some fun this time, they've dropped them off right on top of the river party. Someone get down there and find them before they fall in, please. The New Amsterdam River Party is a near annual event, scheduled for whenever the heat begins to really climb. Located roughly at the middle of the river's length, six large boats take anchor, blocking any water commute for the day. Smaller boats move between them and the river banks, taking any passengers who'd prefer not to get wet back and forth. The area is decorated for the occasion, with several huge palm tree and mermaid sculptures curving over the river, flashing in alternating neon colors. Curling strings of bright lights are strung between them, dangling low and promising a truly flamboyant light show when the sun goes down. For the moment the the focus is fun under the sun. Colorful floats, balls and slides are strewn across the water and banks, with a wide array of water pistols, balloons and slings available at stalls. Beach umbrellas offer shade along the banks, and music blares from the boats, where food sellers have booths and tables to feed the crowd and provide plenty of cool drinks. Lifeguards take posts, watching everything with careful eyes, and large, marked stalls declare themselves to be skincare centers, handing out free sunscreen and reminding everyone to regularly reapply, especially if they've been in the water. In all the colorful, skimpy swimwear and sunglasses, six bewildered people in white scrubs are sure to stand out. Hopefully the citizens are having too much fun to care, but with such attentive lifeguards and event security around, it would be best to find the new arrivals in the crowd as quickly as possible.

> 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 – she'll be open for in depth questions later, but will advise everyone to ask the people who brought them in for the beginning bits of information. ◉ 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 AUGUST 09. 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 August 9 (November 16). 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 November 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 November 20 and close on November 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

gaby teller | the man from UNCLE

[mechanisch]

a. party

[ The sun beating down is what feels the most jarring, somehow, bright and hot and nothing remotely resembling the warmth of a Venice summer morning, the last thing she remembers experiencing before this place. Tossing them into a party scenario isn't entirely foreign, though, and even in a pair of white scrubs Gaby's diminutiveness relative to everyone else enables her to slip through the crowd easily, quickly. She grabs a pair of sunglasses abandoned on a table and jams them over her face, but that only solves one of her many, many problems.

For a brief moment, she lingers by the water, one hand idly rising to touch the recently-shorn ends of her hair. She hasn't worn it this short since she was a girl, long enough to just tuck behind her ears but not able to do much with it besides wear a handkerchief to keep it back and out of her face. The loss is similarly disconcerting, a reminder that as much as she can put certain skills to use to stay a certain number of steps ahead, she's still been taken against her will to a place she doesn't know without anyone she recognizes in plain sight.

Unfortunately, her being lost in thought means she's distracted, not moving, and likely to stick out even more: a dazed, petite young woman in white scrubs standing just at the river's edge. ]

b. safehouse

[ At least this is a term she knows, recognizes. Her time in espionage might be scant compared to others but there are some aspects that she's more well-versed in — and a designated safehouse is remarkably same across the board, with perhaps one or two unique creature comforts in place. Gaby changes first, not heedless of the fact that anyone could walk by and spot her in a state of undress but very much aware of it — and then, after testing out the firmness of her cot with a brief sit, decides to walk around and investigate first and foremost.

The self-guided tour culminates at the kitchen, and while she doesn't initially intend to eat anything the growling in her stomach reminds her that she doesn't really know how much time has passed since she's had anything resembling a meal.

So, cue Gaby, an opened bag of chips in one hand, still rummaging through the various drawers and cupboards, and when someone approaches her she'll call out over one shoulder, not necessarily paying attention to who it could be. ]

You didn't happen to see anything to drink around here, did you?

[ Based on her tone, she's not exactly referring to juice, either. ]

c. wildcard

[ or throw another scenario at me; I'm totally flexible and up for whatever! feel free to ping/add me at favoritings or carly#5387. ]

b

[strove]

[Clarke's presence here all but feels mandatory. In case there are any changes. In case anyone would like her to take their blood and send it off for samples. The issue is that it feels like more of the same: they're dropped off. They can't think for themselves for a while. They eventually end up at the same place, waiting. Idle. Hoping that they can go home.

She gets the sense that it will continue to be that way, and they'll continue to wonder why these people have been left in their laps.

After checking the medical stocks, Clarke stops in the kitchen for a drink—non-alcoholic—when she hears Gaby. It's a good instinct at this stage, and she shakes her head, panting out a laugh soon after.]

If you can't find any, my guess is that we're fresh out. Things have been ... stressful lately.

[To say the least.]

[mechanisch]

[ If either of her partners were here they might have something to say about the way she's leaving crumbs all over the place — Solo, especially — but they're not, and so she is, and as a voice sounds from behind her Gaby slowly rises from her crouched position glancing into one of the cabinets, lifting a hand to idly lick salt from the tips of her fingers. ]

Ah, so they actually would give us that much, at least. I was beginning to wonder.

[ At this rate, she'll take anything that can get her well and properly drunk, though she's likely not going to consume enough to get to that point. Waking up even slightly drugged was disorienting, to say nothing of where she'd ended up, but sometimes there's no beating those certain comforts in terms of restoring a sense of familiarity, no matter when — or where — she is. ]

What do you mean?

[strove]

Look at it a different way. Morningstar doesn't stock it, but they don't mind if we have it. [Clarke can see the hazard in stocking it, especially among their numbers. Many of them come from highly volatile backgrounds, have weirdly glowing chests, and they've mentioned powers. The initial group involved a bunch of kids, so—the altering circumstances still justifies it.]

Anyway, in the last month, we had a monster attack and a city-wide infection. [Clarke offers a soft smile, one that's meant to declare "I'm sorry to be the bearer of this bad news."]

I'd guess that if we had some left, it got claimed when people went to try to numb it all away.

[mechanisch]

[ There are... several words that give her pause uttered in very quick succession, and rather than try to address each of them in turn Gaby elects to focus on one of them, because attempting to tackle everything is bound to give her even more of a headache than she already possesses. ]

You said 'monster attack?' Is that because they were unknown animals, or because no one ever determined who was responsible?

[ People will spin stories of faceless creatures preying on the weak to refrain from embracing the possibility that other humans can be just as cruel. She's no stranger to this, to the whispers that circulated about terrible monsters taking men, women and children from off the streets when really it was men like her uncle who were inflicting the real horrors. ]

[strove]

I wish it were just that. [Clarke's tone takes a turn toward somber. She was already serious, because that's her natural state of being. Those kinds of monsters are the ones she understands. Hell, she's just as easily capable of being one herself.

And then there's what she saw that day, both large and small.

If only it could be a metaphor, not unlike what she discussed with Lincoln once.]

They weren't just unknown animals. They were ... unnatural. Even their genetic tests have come back that way. [She sobers up after a moment and goes on.] Some of our own brought the big one down, so we had a party. Hence ... stores of alcohol, but also why it's not surprising that we're short on it now.

[evite]

[ the safehouse lacks as many things as it provides. it's reasonably clean, with adequate space for sleeping arrangements and food that won't let you starve, but it's hardly a home. in her experience, most arrivals tend to bolt as soon as it's feasible to do so, shacking up with someone else in order to afford new amsterdam's rent.

but, for whatever reason, they all come back when new faces roll in. partly to provide support, sure, but daisy suspects many of their reasons are a lot like her own: to scope out the faces in the hopes (or the fear) they might find someone they recognize.

gaby isn't one of those faces, but she's still somebody. so daisy will talk to her. ]

You know, it's twenty-five eleven [ the utmost disdain. ] and people are still drinking new-agey kombucha.

[ gross. ]

Apparently it's kind of like beer if you let it ferment long enough.

[mechanisch]

[ There are others here, those who don't seem nearly as confused or even bothered by the circumstances in which they've found themselves. Whether that means they weren't taken via the same set of conditions or they've simply had more of an adjustment period, Gaby can't tell for certain. The only thing she knows is that none of these faces are familiar to her — which means she's on her own, yet again.

There are several aspects of the sentence that's just been uttered, presumably in her direction, that give her pause. Gaby won't touch the supposed date, since merely thinking about it is enough to cause her to rummage around for alcohol all over again, but maybe she can inquire about the rest. ]

Kombu-what?

[evite]

Kombucha. [ said very matter-of-factly, though with no small hint of disdain at the name itself. ] It's... tea, I guess. Like somebody got really high and tried to make tea the way you make yogurt.

[ there's a small collection of bottles in the fridge, some more appealing-looking than others. in theory, they're donated goods (if not outright stolen), on the crunchy granola end of the spectrum to appease more health-conscious new arrivals. she's not sure who's dropped them off or where they came from, but they've yet to disappear since she first noticed them. that's probably because no one wants to drink them. ]

If you're looking for something specific, I can try and find out who's doing the next grocery run. No promises, though.

[mechanisch]

That sounds — [ Disgusting probably isn't the word for it; she would have to have more of a personal knowledge to be outright turned-off, so Gaby's expression falls more in line with tentative curiosity before she inevitably shrugs. It's not as if the worst ideas have ever been thought up while high.

Now, it's looking more and more likely that she's going to have to come at this from a sober approach, and given that she's still trying to understand these implants they've been given, it may be better for her to remain mostly clear-headed. Still, she offers a small smile in the young woman's direction. ] Maybe if I'm truly desperate enough.

[evite]

[ it sounds terrible because it is terrible, make no mistake. daisy doesn't take any offense at gaby's clear disinterest — mostly because she's got no real interest in drinking the stuff herself. ]

In the meantime, there's lab cheese and crackers, which isn't the worst snack in the world. And tea, even if it does taste weird.

[ it's not bad, per se. it's just... off. her taste buds haven't yet completed shifted over, and it's hard to shake the memory of a good cup of green tea when the futuristic alternative isn't quite hitting the spot. ]

b.

[crisised]

[ it's a little alarming, seeing one of these new arrival batches from the other side of things. not as bad as being a new arrival, not by a long shot, but it leaves kara itching to do something. she settles on paying forward the kindness that was given to her when she first made it to the safe house. which is why she's in the kitchen, getting a couple glasses of water filled before she heads out to the general area. ]

Not here. [ she says it with a quiet laugh, tossing a smile in gaby's direction. ] At least, not right now. Could probably pick something up later, but I'd recommend waiting a bit. If any of that drug's still in your system, that could be a recipe for trouble.

[mechanisch]

[ The more she mulls over the young woman's words, the more Gaby comes to realize that she's probably right. She's nowhere near as dazed as she'd been upon first waking up, but she's also not entirely back to feeling like herself yet — a mostly sober version of herself, anyway. And right now, she can't afford to not pay attention, even though her instincts would rather she keep finding a way to tune it all out.

She nods once, indicating to one of the water glasses with her free hand as if to silently inquire whether or not they're up for the taking. ] You sound like you're speaking from experience.

[crisised]

Ehhh. [ she wiggles a hand in a 'so-so' gesture. ] I haven't mixed them myself, but I'm a scientist. I've seen things.

[mechanisch]

You don't seem to be the only one of those.

[ Between her and Clarke, it seems there are many young woman who have made significant strides in the sciences. It's encouraging, at the very least. ] Did someone have a particularly poor reaction?

b

[kgbs]

[ when he sees her, he wants to hope that his eyes are playing tricks on him, that she is not truly here. but, she moves, talks, and illya realizes what is true: she is here. a part of him scowls because clearly she has followed him.

logic tells him that cannot be true. he left no trace and he has no contacted anyone so there is no way she could have followed. he moves closer to her, a frown etched on his face. he opens his mouth to say something but before he can, she speaks and he is momentarily quiet. ]

You are thinking of having a snack?

[mechanisch]

[ There's no mistaking that voice, the low timbre edged with an undeniably Russian accent, and Gaby rises to her feet slowly without turning around first, only pivoting on one heel once she's fully standing again and looking up — and up and up, further still, until Illya comes into full view. Even his frown is a welcome sight, though he appears more confused at the sight of her here than anything else.

She tosses the bag of chips onto the counter, a few spilling out in her haste to free her hands, and crosses the kitchen in quick strides to throw her arms around his middle, hugging him tightly for a few beats, not saying anything at all. The only thing she's feeling right now is sheer relief at the knowledge that she has someone here, amidst all the uncertainty. ]

[kgbs]

[ this...is not the reaction he expected. he certainly had not hugged solo when he had discovered the other man but gaby is standing here, in the middle of everyone, hugging him and his hands are at his sides, an expression of confusion on his face.

eventually, he does bring one hand up to awkwardly pat her back. comfort was never going to be his strong suit if it wasn't already terribly evident. ]

Are you all right?

[mechanisch]

[ In any normal circumstance, she likely would not have been so brazen, so bold in her need to reach out. They've had enough interrupted moments that almost were something already, but it's less about the curiosity to be close, to touch him now, and more about all of the emotions that have been building up in her since she arrived: confusion, fear, anger, desperation, loneliness. It all comes flooding out of her in a rush and she turns her cheek against his chest, inhaling shakily and then releasing it all in a slow breath. ]

Do I look all right?

[ The words are half-muffled against his torso; she hasn't pried herself away from him yet or lifted her head to be heard. Surely he's already seen the hacked-off state of her hair, the ill-fitting clothes she'd had to make do with. ]

[kgbs]

No, you look like you are hugging me.

[ which isn't terrible, he has to admit, but unexpected. but perhaps it should not be especially if she has just arrived and is still trying to figure out what has happened. he frowns down at the top of her head and sighs. ]

Are you injured at all? Do you feel dizzy? Sick? Do I need to call a doctor?

safehouse

[mercurio]

[prompto has a feeling this has nothing to do with juice, and yet--]

There's some OJ in the fridge.

[he intones, pointing at what looks like a fridge on one corner of the kitchen. he's also munching on some granola bars (much better than a can of beans) and his hunger seems insatiable, worryingly so. probably nerves.]

[...which brings his thought process to reconsider what she asked for.]

Oh. You mean like a drink drink. Get slammed drink. Right?

[any bets on whether he's been out drinking ever in his life?]

Dunno if that's a good idea with the whole implant and all...

[mechanisch]

[ The only use Gaby potentially has for OJ is whether or not it can be mixed with anything, but given how long she's already been at her search it seems that any chance she has of finding something stronger than kombucha (whatever that is, it'd been explained to her but she still can't fathom being desperate enough to drink it, not yet at least) is slim.

Still, maybe someone's inadvertently nudged something towards the back of the fridge that's since gone unnoticed, and she redirects her attention there, one hand idly rummaging into her commandeered bag of potato chips and fishing out a small palmful, which she proceeds to munch on. ]

Is there evidence that it interferes with the implant's systems? [ Considering where it's been installed, it's likely, but if she has to be the one to test it out for herself, it's a sacrifice she's willing to make. ]

[mercurio]

I'm new, so I haven't really had the time to try it or hear about it...?

[crunch goes the bar, prompto moving away from where he was leaning against the counter and walks closer to gaby.]

What kinda drink are you thinking of? Beer, or something -- [hand wave] like stronger?

[he will voice caution once but he's more of a do first, think later guy.]

[mechanisch]

[ Never mind the fact that it's the sort of advanced technology that she can only somewhat begin to grasp; her curiosity has been piqued, even if she has no idea of even where to begin in terms of figuring out how to get a good look at it in someone. ]

Honestly, I'm not all that picky. Something to take the edge off.

[ She's moving aside jars and containers, rising up on tiptoe to try and peer into some of the higher shelves, but there's no sign of anything that looks as if it could even create a sense of mild intoxication. With a slightly resigned sigh, she lets the fridge door swing shut. ]

I thought I recognized you from before. [ There'd only been a small number of them, after all. ]

[mercurio]

[prompto, for his part, is looking over the counter tops and seeing if he can catch a glimpse of some bottle behind all the cans and other preserved foods. no such luck. there's quite a variety of drinks, but not quite the alcoholic ones, not that he can see.]

Yeah, uhm... With our super cool shaved head looks, we definitely make a lasting impression.

[he sighs and then squats to look under the sink. nothing much here.]

I guess there isn't the possibility of being picky. [he looks up from his squat at her] I'm Prompto, by the way.