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

[cyberlife]

...

(ohhh nooo

connor's only dealt with people crying when he was also crying, so the events cancelled each other out in a way. it wasn't awkward because the situations were frightening and they had to pull through together. this is just— this is just something he is not good at. he does not deal with this well.

raises his hands in pacifying motions, wracking his brain. surely there was a suite he was programmed with that provided comfort to victims and criminals while extracting testimonials and confessions.)

It's not your fault, Prompto. Do you understand?

(look at the half-naked man in a sling, who looks like he got mugged on the way home from his cushy 9-5.)

We can do this here or we can do this at the safe house. It's entirely up to you, but I highly recommend the latter. It will be comfortable for you there, there are medical supplies, beds, a stocked kitchen... (other people i can dump you off on...)

i guess

[mercurio]

[you don't understand, connor. coming from where prompto was at previously, back in niflheim, this is absolutely jarring and intrusive. this is not the type of rescue he expected, and even then, the fact that he expected rescue at all disappeared into smoke in the air when he found out the purpose of the research facility and where he came from.]

[to be dropped off into a place where the likely reasoning for his being there is experimentation is so vile it's making him sick to his stomach.]

[he's afraid (he's always been afraid), and it's a half miracle he's still alive.]

[and as nice as the safe house sounds...] None of this makes sense. I... Why wouldn't it be my fault? What about the daemons? The MTs?

[cyberlife]

(connor's training kicks in the moment he registers prompto's questions, nonsensical to him and likely a new effect of the drug. he's in shock.

what's worse, he hears commotion down the shoreline of the river and — even though it pains him to check, because he knows exactly what it is — cranes his neck to spot police officers consulting a worried citizen pointing in their direction.

he can't answer anything now, not here. it's high time he takes control of this situation.

jerking forward into a reach for prompto's wrist, connor plans to grab him tightly and lead him away with a sharp tug. sorry, man.)

There's no time. Right now we need to run.

[mercurio]

[i dunno what's gotten you so shook, but you can deal with it later. let's move. alarms blaring, bright red lights coalescing onto metallic panels. no reaction, legs so heavy they feel like they're made of lead. i'm only gonna say this once, a strong hand on his collar, a pause, then a harsh tug to pull him up, his movements automatic like he has no actual will of his own. lose your will to live, and you lose all of hope of me helping your sorry ass. got it? hard words and even harder eyes, flushing the fear out of him and instigating a need to move, of fight or flight, alternating with an almost forced panicked need to just go.]

[it's not aranea, it's not the snowy plains of niflheim, but the words are sufficient command, sufficient reminder enough that he can still stand tall despite crumbling realities and notions he once had.]

[there seems to be a sudden shift in his demeanor, walking forward and onwards as connor begins leading the way.]

I'll do my best.

[he doesn't know about running, and he doesn't know what chances they have in their current situation (or where even they're going), but prompto tries to quicken his pace, as clumsy-less as possible.]

[cyberlife]

(connor, on the other hand, reaches the end of prompto's arm and jerks at it when the boy's pace puts a stopper on his own. his best is going to have to be better, which is why strong legs guide them into something faster as the cops at the rear notice that they're beating a quick retreat.

this isn't fast enough. this isn't a speed they can escape at.)

Do you want to die? (connor demands, fingers in a bruising vice around a thin wrist.) I know it hurts and I know you're lightheaded, but we have to get to the street. If we can make it to an alley, we've got ten more routes ahead that'll confuse the police officers.

(a nod ahead of them, at the distant side street that takes them past two businesses. language foreign but readable. a bank and a café, side by side.)

Can you make it there, at the very least?

[mercurio]

[this is the opposite of what you promised him--]

I don't-- I'm--

[he grunts his responses, because even as he tries to get a word in, connor is quicker at getting words and directives out.]

[at least, prompto has years of running under his best, not to mention the amount of off-road exploration he and the others did during their roadtrip. what's running himself to exhaustion one more time, right? just pretend he's got poisoned by a mushusshu and has gotta run out of the swamp under the effect. no big deal.]

[so he doesn't spare any breath in talking, instead increasing his speed, clumsy as he may be, but ever onwards and relatively faster than before.]

[cyberlife]

(no big deal, not when they're really going. prompto leans into a run and connor lets go of his wrist to give them both a free range of motion, only casting a glance back at the officers tailing them once. they should've jumped back into the river, pushed across through to the other side and lost them that way.

too late now.

connor's open button-up whips behind him as he takes the lead at a breakneck pace, before he's reaching for the top of the median that keeps them from the street. it's leverage for his leap over the top, clearing it easily before pausing to look out over the cars that barrel by, to time them, to create an opening for their run across.)

Hold on—

(with the lifelike game of frogger about to begin, connor narrows his eyes at the pattern of traffic with the street lights 900 metres ahead and murmurs a countdown under his breath. 5, 4, 3, two cars, one transport truck, 2, 1, one car, one cab.)

—now.

(if you can dodge a car you can dodge a cop, prompto.)

[mercurio]

[prompto's clearing of the median isn't as graceful as connor's, but he manages, thankful for the pause in connor's step. it takes him a few seconds to realize the horror of what connor wants them to do, though, and immediately his heart is caught at his throat.]

[this is crazy. is connor crazy?]

[he only but hears the imperative, and decides that whatever happens, happens. this can't be worse than-- than so many other things. and if this is the end, then maybe he'll wake up in the cold ground of the tundra's cave, thinking "wow, what a fucking weird vivid nightmare that was."]

[and so prompto's running, and finds it surprising at the fact that he actually managed to narrowly miss getting hit by a cab. he's tumbling over the other side's median, pulling himself over and falling to the ground, breathing hard at the exertion of energy he didn't know he had in him.]

Shiva's tits! That was insane!

[why is he laughing when he can't breathe]