larkers: (pic#12386235)
MEADOWLARK MODS ([personal profile] larkers) wrote in [community profile] meadowlarklogs2020-07-25 02:09 pm

EVENT #010

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam and any other megacity the Displaced happen to be in/travel to!
WHEN: May 28, 2512
WHAT: Golden-eyed monsters stream into New Amsterdam and other megacities the world over.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Violence, death, body horror, mind control, and transformation.

> EVENT #010

It starts in the middle of the night, when most everyone should be fast asleep in their beds, whether they're still taking up a cot in the safehouse or staying in their own apartment. One moment it's quiet, with most of the rest of the city having also turned in for the night, and then in the next? It isn't.

There will be mass confusion as the scope of the situation becomes clear. Monsters stream out onto the streets, thundering up the stairs of a train station, skittering out of construction sites, or climbing up the walls. Some of them fly. Others slither. Others run, loping forward with only one goal in mind: to find something to sink their teeth or claws into and to leave destruction in their wake at every turn. They are a horde, a swarm, a teeming mass of creatures that have no intention of stopping. All of them have eyes or bodies that shine gold and wherever they go, they seem to leave decay. Concrete turns black and porous where they step; plants wither and die.

There is no real preparing for an attack of this scale. New Amsterdam will awaken as the sound of these monsters crashing down on cars or bursting through storefronts or into homes forces people to run screaming from their dwellings or places of work. There is no discrimination in who these beasts might target, and no discernable pattern in where they go.

All that one can really tell is that they seem to want to spread out. They're constantly on the move, leaping from victim to victim, and they're relentless. No one knows why they've come, where they're come from, or what will make them stop. At least for now, the only option seems to be to cut down their numbers. It's time to fight the horde.

The first night will be utter chaos as everyone reacts to the monsters' sudden appearance, but by the morning hours news reports will start streaming in. This is not only happening in New Amsterdam, or wherever else a Displaced might be staying, but seemingly everywhere. Some cities seem harder hit than others, but practically every megacity is overrun with the creatures.

With no way of knowing who might have unleashed the monsters, all of these cities have essentially been turned into battlefields. Not many civilians are prepared to fight for their lives, and it will take a mobilization effort from the police, Morningstar, the Displaced, and anyone else who's willing to take up arms in order to survive.

◉ As a note, this attack starts simultaneously in multiple cities. While it's the middle of the night in New Amsterdam, the monsters will appear at other times of the day in other parts of the world depending on the timezone!

> BESTIARY

So as to not make this post overly long, we have compiled all of the monster descriptions into a Google doc here for everyone's reference!

> (NOT SO) SAFEHOUSE

For those Displaced who stay at (or spend any time in) the safehouse under the hoverbike shop or the Red Wings bar, they may become aware of the presence of the monsters sooner than others, due to the fact that at least a few of the giant mole monsters will end up burrowing up through the concrete basements to wreak havoc. The screeching noise of steel claws tearing through the floor will be sure to wake up even the deepest of sleepers.

This won't just be an occurrence on the first night of the attack, either. Unless something is done to deter them, tunnels leading straight into the safehouses will continue to be created, allowing even other types of monsters to find their way through (the smaller ones, that is). Where exactly they're coming from won't be entirely clear, though it's a safe bet to assume that they must have originated in the cave system somehow.

Suffice to say that El won't be happy about the safehouse being compromised in this way, though this isn't a possibility that ze or anyone else could have really prepared for. While ze can't do much to physically help with containing the invasion of the monsters, ze will offer whatever resources ze can—though Morningstar is going to be busy in plenty of other locations, as well, and they only have so many resources.

The Red Wings, being a Displaced-operated location, will also be in need of assistance, especially if it's meant to be a point of safety and a hub for handing out supplies. Speaking of—

> RED WINGS HQ

As things begin to deteriorate, Clarke Griffin and Stephen Strange sink their resources into Red Wings, adapting it into a base of operations for the Displaced. Clarke also called in PRESERVE to set up a checkpoint here, too, and anyone—from the Displaced to civilians—will be able to seek aid here. (Of course, Red Wings will be just one of a few locations throughout the city where they attempt to set up shop, but Red Wings may prove to be more fortified thanks to the talents of the Displaced.) Civilians will not have access to Red Wings' safehouse, however. That's still something that Clarke and Stephen want to keep under wraps, for now.

In the bar proper, there will be medical aid, supplies, and even weapons for those who can use them. During rare moments of downtime, the gang at Red Wings will also work on reconnaissance missions to find safe spots throughout the city to provide much needed protection and safety for the people of New Amsterdam. This task may be much easier said than done. Gathering intel on the monsters is a high priority, too, and for anyone who tries to capture a monster to learn more about them, the basement might be a good place to hold them. If the Displaced are going to be able to fight back, they need to know exactly what it is they're fighting.

However, the truth of the matter is that this attack happened quickly, and in the middle of the night to boot. As much as the group at Red Wings tries, resources are stretched thin, and they didn't have time to prepare as much as they wanted to. Supplies need to be rationed, bandages and stitches used for wounds that really need them, and if you're not a great shot, it might be best to let someone with more training take that gun you're eyeing.

More than anything, despite the difficulty, this is a way for the Displaced to help out as many people as they can, and a way for them to cement their humanitarian efforts and affect the population's opinion of them. The citizens of New Amsterdam are sick of this cycle of destruction, and are just waiting to be empowered. Now's the time to teach them to fight back and help them protect their city.

Red Wings' safehouse underground will be damaged by burrowing monsters as well, and will need protection. The bar itself will escape relatively unscathed.

> INVESTIGATING / GATES

Maybe the best way of dealing with the monsters isn't violence at all. Maybe there's a more strategic way to deal with this.

The monsters will be moving from city to city via the gates, just like the Displaced do. There might be a way to keep them from spreading, or at least slow them down, by shutting down the gate network. Of course, with the mag trains shutting down, getting back home could be an issue. One option is the delivery network of hover trucks. They'll still be running to get supplies from city to city, but their batteries don't run indefinitely, so these will be relatively local trips only. No getting from New Tokyo back to New Amsterdam with this method, unfortunately, and convincing a driver to let you hitch a ride might be a challenge, but it's doable.

Of course, there's also the question of where these things are coming from. Intrepid characters might be able to track them back to their nests, which are tucked away in wildly different places depending on the city. In New Amsterdam, they might be in the caves below the city. In other places, they might not be in the city proper at all, but just outside of it. It's important to keep in mind that the nests are far away from any of the action taking place elsewhere. Tracking these origin points may provide some answers, but the cost would be less involvement in the crisis taking place.

And then there's the matter of the monsters themselves. How can you fight an enemy you know nothing about? For those determined or crafty enough, capturing them might be an option, although this will take some creativity. Once these creatures are captured, they'll need to be kept contained, and kept alive. Just because they're monstrous doesn't mean they don't have to eat, after all, and some will need special environmental considerations as well, such as the mind control slugs.

What happens after that is up to the Displaced. Is dissecting them the best bet? Their internal anatomy won't be wildly different from most "normal" animals, with the exception of some creatures who have strange appendages or the like. Still, this might give the Displaced a better idea of how they operate and what their weak spots are. Sending samples to a lab is another possibility, if the Displaced can figure out how to safely store those samples. After all, the world is in a crisis, and no one is running tests at the moment.

All monsters, though, seem drawn to the blue light. When a Displaced uses a power or activates the empathy bond, the creatures will lock onto it, utterly transfixed, and if this is done enough times, that gold glow of theirs will intensify. What does it all mean? Maybe figuring that out will be a pathway to stopping their attacks.

> PITCHING IN

While all of this is going on, it certainly won't be just the Displaced who are heading out into the streets to try and stem the flow of the monster attack. These creatures are certainly not holding back, and no matter how much work might be put in, their numbers are overwhelming. Plenty of people will end up dead as a result, ripped to shreds or dragged off somewhere to be eaten. Yet, for some reason, these monsters are not as vicious toward the Displaced. They'll engage them in a fight and injure them, but they never go so far as dealing a fatal blow.

Seeing how that's not the case for the rest of the populace throughout the world, however, some groups and organizations will be rising up to do their part.

Police departments will be mobilizing in every megacity to put the monsters down, and while they are armed, it's not on the same level as the UNA. They also don't have any sort of training that's prepared them to fight monsters, but they'll still be putting their lives on the line to put a dent in the monsters' onslaught. When it comes to enforcing regular law and order, they certainly won't have the bandwidth for anything like that. Then again, most people won't be in any position to take advantage and commit crimes either, given the chaos that will be a constant everywhere.

Morningstar will also be jumping into action around the world. The New Amsterdam branch will be most likely to work alongside the Displaced and share some of their resources, particularly with those who are signed up as official agents or those who've supported them in the past. In cities like New Prague and New Beijing where the Displaced have made some contact with Morningstar before, they'll also be open to working with the Displaced. However, their resources are by no means robust. Morningstar is an organized rebel group, but they're hardly an official army in any sense of the word. They might be able to hand out a weapon here or there and they have a safehouse set up in almost every city, but beyond that, they'll mainly be getting boots on the ground to help with the fighting.

UNA soldiers who have been left without any sort of purpose or guidance will now have an opportunity to put some of that training to use. Their involvement will be much more scattered, though in some cases small groups of these soldiers who used to work in units together will reconnect in their effort to fight off the horde. However, having been cut off from the UNA in an official capacity, they won't have much in the way of gear or weapons. They're still formidable fighters, though, and now might be the perfect time to reach out and make a connection with some of them.

Mercenaries belonging to various different outfits, depending on what city they're based in, will also be joining the cause. Whether they're acting out of a basic desire to survive the attacks or if they're actually being paid by someone to go out there and risk their lives will be less clear, but they're some of the best-equipped fighters (other than the police). They also won't really find much reason to protest any of the Displaced pitching in to fight with them. The more firepower, the better, right?

A group of regulars from the New Amsterdam fighting rings will be rising up to add their fuel to the monster-fighting fire, as encouraged by Hawke and whoever else might know them well enough to reach out. Given that some of these people have illegal mods to enhance their strength or cybernetic attachments that can do impressive amounts of damage, some of them might hold their own against the monsters. Hell, some of them might even ask the Displaced to demonstrate some of their powers if they end up fighting together, as word of their abilities has become more known among their ranks. Either way, they'll be jumping into the fray with quite a bit of gusto.

PRESERVE will be involved on the other end of these efforts and will be doing their best to tend to the wounded and the dead, along with finding shelter and safe spots for people to barricade themselves from the attacks. It's not like the grand majority of civilians could stand a chance against these monsters, after all, yet not all of them can rely on their homes to be safe enough to stay in. They'll be quick to accept an offer of Displaced help, as they'll be doing their best to try and drag the recently dead to hospitals to get them put into medi-units before they're too late. Along with what's set up at Red Wings, they'll also be cobbling together other relief spots throughout the city for taking care of wounded and offering up what supplies they have (food and water, medical supplies, etc).

And what are the corporations doing in all of this? Well, suffice to say, mainly just panicking. Unsurprisingly, they're not much help during a crisis like this, with most of the super-rich opting to hide away in whatever highly secure bunkers they might have. Too bad that these bunkers might not prove so secure in the face of these attacks. Could that prove to be an opportunity if someone went looking?

> FINAL OOC NOES

Please refer to the OOC EVENT POST for all OOC info, including suggestions for directions on how to engage with the event. Given the spread out nature of this event, as well as the amount of additional details provided here, please direct all questions to our QUESTIONS thread below. This is, naturally, a huge event in terms of scale, and so we're certain there are aspects of it we haven't covered and questions that have yet to be answered. We do encourage that all of our players use the event planning post for any additional ideas and for touching base!

Please do not begin to thread out any aftermath until AUGUST 8, 2020, which is when we will put up the aftermath log and OOC post. If this date changes, we will provide a gamewide update as needed! As a note, the August calendar will be posted alongside the aftermath!

As a reminder, there is one power level up available for this event, granted for a thread of at least 5 log/action comments containing your character utilizing their power in some way during the event itself. They will need to reach the 5 comments required by SEPTEMBER 11, 2020 to be eligible. Submission will be handled on the wrap up post.

Our Activity Check will be posted AUGUST 1 at 12 AM UTC. It will run for seven days and close on AUGUST 8 at 12 AM UTC.

Have fun and fight some monsters! Or … whatever else you might do with them. 😉😏 Your secret's safe with us. 😙

freightcars: (Default)

Bucky Barnes

[personal profile] freightcars 2020-07-26 01:53 am (UTC)(link)
( misc. to follow )
Edited 2020-07-26 01:53 (UTC)
fossils: (pic#8227421)

[personal profile] fossils 2020-07-26 03:43 am (UTC)(link)
[ The sun's starting to rise, peeking out between then buildings.

Earlier on in the night they'd rescued a hotheaded kid, couldn't have been more than thirteen, who'd got separated from his group of would-be monster slayers. They'd escorted him to one of the PRESERVE stations in one piece, and the kid graciously handed Steve the crowbar he'd been struggling to carry.

He's swinging that now at the shifting creature that's blocking their exit to the street back to the safehouse. One of those subway rat-looking things nearly took a chunk out of his left calf just a little bit before and he's favoring it. The shapeshifter doesn't even bother to dodge, just stands there and takes the blow-- softened by the appearance of hard plating. It swings the other arm, clawed and sharp, forcing Steve to parry. ]


Buck--! [ shouted back without looking.

This is a new one. ]
Edited 2020-07-26 03:43 (UTC)
freightcars: (ʟᴏᴏᴋ ʟɪᴋᴇ Fʀᴏsᴛᴇᴅ Fʟᴀᴋᴇs)

[personal profile] freightcars 2020-07-26 04:15 am (UTC)(link)
[ Can't even blame the empathy bond for this part - they speak a similar and private language. At some point a million years ago he developed an ear for inflection, and he can parse Buck spoken sixteen different ways and interpret them.

This one means there's something to be a little alarmed about because it's unusual, a problem that needs an immediate solution.

From over Steve's left shoulder comes a flying piece of rebar that zips through the air and imbeds itself in the monster's left shoulder. It makes some kind of god awful screeching noise, and the plates ripple across its chest like armor.

Well, that's not good.

Part two is to get behind it and get a metal hand on that piece of metal still jutting out, since it's lodged under plates. Maybe they can rip one off. Give him a second to figure out exactly how to pull that maneuver off. ]
fossils: (pic#7652161)

[personal profile] fossils 2020-07-26 06:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He can give you thirty seconds, max. The monster staggers back and Steve doesn't give it a breath to recover. Kicks it square in the center as his injured leg screams pain signals at him.

For a moment it looks like the creature's going to lose its footing.

And then it grows two more feet and a pair of legs to catch itself.

Or arms, who can tell at this point.

Like a frog it uses those new extra hind limbs to propel itself at Steve, sending them both tumbling. ]
freightcars: (Cᴇʀᴛɪғɪᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ I'ᴍ ɢᴀɴɢ ɢᴀɴɢ ɢᴀɴɢ)

[personal profile] freightcars 2020-07-26 07:03 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Yeah, that'll do. Sorry, pal.

The shapeshifter goes springing on Steve, and Bucky goes springing over the shapeshifter. His left hand is what stops his momentum, snagging on the metal bar sticking out of it's chest and rearing them both back with the force of it. He gets a second hand around it and pulls, teeth bared and gritted, a sound grinding from his throat with the effort.

It rears back like a horse, squalling all the while. The bar pulls through muscle, peels up plate—

—and then one by one, sharp barbs that match it start springing up out of its back threatening to impale him. One under his armpit that he yanks away from. One beneath his breastbone that he barely dodges, another does manage to catch him in the thigh. He flings himself off the thing, hissing out a conused sound. ]


It's learning.

[ Obviously, but it's-- adapting to everything they do. ]
fossils: (pic#8212312)

[personal profile] fossils 2020-07-27 06:17 am (UTC)(link)
[ Steve manages a tumble as they rear back, springing to his feet with a little less balance than usual, in time to watch the barbs come out and Bucky to retreat again.

They flank it, but it's little use-- the damn thing's got an answer for everything-- ]


Then make it forget! [ He's still got his eyes on it, dancing around each other.

Might as well through the whole kitchen sink. ]
freightcars: (Tʜɪʀᴅ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴅᴇᴍᴏᴄʀᴀᴄʏ)

[personal profile] freightcars 2020-07-27 06:25 am (UTC)(link)
[ There's a pregnant pause — as much as one can exist during something like this — where Bucky's brain kind of blows for a second. Never even occurred to him that he could do something with it in a fight, but as soon as the idea gets floated he's back on his feet and moving.

He climbs those spines like goddamn Legolas in order to get a hand on the thing's skull. His chest goes blue. The thing goes still.

It's a trip. He did this with Qi once and it was like going through polaroids on fast-forward and in three dimensions. Sights and sounds go rushing by too quickly for him to even get an impression aside from violence, until he yanks the reigns back and forces their trajectory towards here, now.

The last five minutes unwind like film reel and burn off entirely.

He replaces it with something new, and when he's done he falls off the thing's back as it whirls around in the other direction, screeching at something that doesn't exist like it's goddamn furious.

But the armor ripples away, and the spines disappear. Factory reset, and convinced that some more alluring prey was teasing it with what it wanted. ]

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bornrussian: (Default)

[personal profile] bornrussian 2020-07-26 04:25 am (UTC)(link)
[After the first chaotic push -- darkness giving way to first morning light and the push of too many bodies with limbs that don't look any kind of right -- It becomes clear:

This isn't a battle. It's a war.

The monsters are pouring through the streets all over the world. The Chitauri all over again, except wherever they're coming from isn't so obvious. Can't be closed by the push of a spear into the center of the device opening a worm hole for them to crawl through. It's not won within the first six hours, or even the first twenty-four.

Everything narrows down to survival. It's the next step, the next punch, the next fight, the next screeching mouth filled with too many teeth.

Sleep is grabbed in snatches, when and where they have a chance. It's miserable. Natasha's always been a sprinter, and now she's adjusting for a marathon.

Every time Natasha closes her eyes, she finds herself standing at the center of Vormir. The wind howling around her and whipping her hair in her face. So far, she's been alone each time. A small mercy.

It doesn't matter how quick she is to throw herself off the ledge. Each time she jerks awake the moment right before she hits the ground -- heart jackhammering in her throat, each breath stumbling over the next -- it steals a little more of her energy.

Seven minutes, it turns out, is the turnaround. If she can calm her racing heart and slow her breathing sufficiently enough to fall asleep within seven minutes of waking, sleep proceeds as usual. If she dreams, she cannot remember it upon waking. Seven minutes and one second and she's back there again, her mouth filled with dust and shadows.

It's not restful.

Understatement.

It's exhausting

One time, she stands on the edge, ready to step off it when the sound of claws against concrete rips her into wakefulness. It's a close thing, she only just manages to bring her gun (the weight of it unfamiliar in her hands, but comforting all the same) up into its mouth, squeezing off a round, closing her eyes to the saliva-mixed blood spattering across her face.

At least she knows now, that the dream works like a regular nightmare. Outside forces can wake her from it. It's just a poor comfort now when each minute of sleep is as valuable as each mouthful of water or bite of food.

Already she is getting sloppy. The rough bandage circling her left arm and the scratches burning against her skin are evidence enough.

Vormir is a distraction she can't afford.]


@ james.barnes
Location?
I need a favor
Edited 2020-07-26 04:25 (UTC)
freightcars: (Sʜᴇ's ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴀᴅᴅᴇsᴛ I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ғʟ)

[personal profile] freightcars 2020-07-26 05:26 am (UTC)(link)
I'm at one of the pop-up relief shelters, I'll send you the coordinates
Are you okay


[ He's been trying to defend them. There are enough displaced hovering around the safe house and Red Wings, but these smaller satellite spots are still susceptible to rogue beasts stumbling upon them. He's put down two so far, and after days of exertion with middling sleep he's starting to feel the toll himself.

Never noticed more that the serum is missing from his body. There's a cut on his cheek that hasn't healed over yet. A split in his lip. A burn on his right arm, a bruise on his left hip. His entire left side aches from the constant heavy weight of dense metal coupled with the effort it takes to exert with it. The constant steady healing used to stave that off. Not anymore.

She'll find him sitting on one of the gurneys, not wounded but resting. His clothes are stained in a few places, ripped in a few others. He hasn't taken the time to shower and change yet, and it almost seems pointless. He's taking a break for now, but by sunrise there will be something else to fight and it'll just ruin another set of clothes. ]
bornrussian: (EG: tired)

[personal profile] bornrussian 2020-07-26 06:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Thanks
Coordinates received
Headed your way


[No matter how secure the Network is claimed to be, it's all Natasha is comfortable putting into writing. The favor she's about to ask-- No written record needs ever exist of it.

The fastest route from Natasha's location to Barnes' would be through the tunnels that crisscross beneath the city. But the tunnels are infested with creatures. In tight quarters, it's harder to fight. Easy to get overwhelmed. So she sticks to the streets.

The little shelter isn't exactly bustling with activity. People have pulled gurneys together in little makeshift family groups, and are trying to get a little bit of sleep. Somewhere, a child is crying. It doesn't sound like pain or fear. Just exhaustion.

It's easy enough to find Barnes; He's one of the few people awake. Natasha picks her way over to him.

Maybe Barnes has the right idea. Pick a spot and defend it. He's not wasting his energy on moving around. Natasha has stayed on the move. A different shelter each time the battle has slowed enough for another mostly-useless attempt at sleep.

If Natasha lets herself sit down and catalogue all her injuries, she's not sure she'll be able to stand back up again. Visible is a ring of bruises around one of her wrists, a bruise down her jaw, the crude bandage around her upper arm. Beneath her clothes is another story.]


Barnes. [The greeting is followed by a tired smile, and she sinks down on the gurney next to him. Well. Not quite next to him. Right on the edge as far away as possible while still sitting down. She settles her hands right besides her thighs on the gurney, fingers wrapping around the rounded edge, and stares straight ahead.

Natasha isn't about to waste her breath on small talk. He's alive. She's alive. There are still monsters moving through the city. What else is there to say? No, she moves straight into the crux of it:]


I'm still dreaming it. You said you might be able to help. [The words are toneless, devoid of emotion.]
Edited 2020-07-26 18:20 (UTC)
freightcars: (Bᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀɪɴ'ᴛ ᴜᴘ ғᴏʀ sᴀʟᴇ)

[personal profile] freightcars 2020-07-26 07:25 pm (UTC)(link)
Romanoff.

[ He greets tiredly, that same old lingering attempt to give her shit for her last name tendency. It's not as bright or as wry as usual, but the fact that the effort exists at all is better than nothing.

Tired eyes clock her bruises, her injuries, which side she favors. They also don't miss the more subtle bruises beneath her eyes, the ones that tell a story of no sleep. At a time like this, that could be a lethal failing.

He's patient. He waits, and he's rewarded with something admittedly pretty damn surprising. Figured she'd written it off, now's the last time he thought it would come up.

But it makes sense.

He tries not to let that surprise make it to his face. There's a thoughtful pause, and he links his fingers together in his lap. ]


I can maybe fix it later.

[ He offers first, like some small consolation over it. But it's the logistics he'll focus on. ]

I need you to tell me what you think'll help you most. If you want it all gone, or if you want me to change the ending somehow.

[ Let her think she remembers landing. Seeing Clint hold the soul stone. He can do any of that. ]
bornrussian: (AoU: not a great day)

[personal profile] bornrussian 2020-07-26 08:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[They're both tired. Even going through the motions of gentle teasing means a lot.

What shows on Barnes' face doesn't much matter. Natasha isn't looking at him. Won't. Not right now.]


Later won't do me any good. [Flat. Factual.

Later is when the war has been won or lost. When the lack of sleep loses her the edge she needs to keep walking away from each little skirmish, and she falters uselessly and needlessly. All over a damn dream she can't shake.]


If-- [The words stick behind her teeth, and Natasha's face screws up with frustration. What she's asking is hard. It's cracking herself open and letting him slip inside. Now, more than ever, she needs a strong facade to hide the bricks crumbling behind it.

She swallows. Looks down at the hand closest to him, where it curls around the metal rod of the gurney. Tries again:]


If you take it all out, can you put it back in again? [What she did at Vormir doesn't define her. Not like each and every step that led her there. But its permanent loss would still leave an ache, she thinks. It's the last time she saw Clint's face, heard his voice. It's important.

If it's the only way to keep moving forward now, keep making a difference, and still live to see the next dawn, she'll give it up. But it'll cost her more to ask.]
freightcars: (Bᴜᴛ I'ᴍ Gᴇʀᴀʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ I ᴄᴀɴ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴊ)

[personal profile] freightcars 2020-07-26 09:59 pm (UTC)(link)
That's what I mean.

[ Confirmed with a tired voice and a nod. ]

Fix it later, like... put it back, or undo it. I think I can. I haven't tried, but it makes sense.

[ Changing something back. It's the same thing in principal, right?

Alternatively... He licks his lips, sways heavily to his left side and back again. Closest thing to a shrug he's willing to do right now. ]


You could share it with me. Give me the memory. I can share it back when you want it.

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freightcars: (I ʟɪᴋᴇ sᴛᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ)

→ Jack

[personal profile] freightcars 2020-07-29 07:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[ There's a tentatively cleared (rather, monitored) path running between Red Wings and one of the PRESERVE shelters as they pass supplies or civilians back and forth between them. Of course, there's no real way to block off the entire section of street, there is no such thing as safety. The closest they can manage is to run a couple of people through it in half-hour shifts, and make sure anyone traversing it has an escort.

He volunteers for a midnight shift, pairs up with Jack, and the circuit they tread is an easy enough beat. Dispatching a 'bitch mosquito' is easy enough, and the walk is otherwise muted. The street they're on is quiet, but there's no missing the background noise that has been a constant since this thing began. Some blocks over, screeching. Screaming. Breaking glass or metal. You can't chase every sound chaotically, or you lose what foothold you manage to establish.

Compared to that, the subdued atmosphere here seems almost eerie.

It's broken on the way back by a soft voice.

Hello.

It doesn't end on an upward inflection.

Help me.

It's close. He pauses, brow wrinkling up, shooting a look at Jack. There weren't supposed to be any runs right now. Might be a civilian? ]
Edited 2020-07-29 19:50 (UTC)
personalwar: visor (we're all soldiers now)

[personal profile] personalwar 2020-07-31 01:09 am (UTC)(link)
[ Even though it's the middle of the night, the monsters out here don't necessarily care. Some of them may have found a quiet place to rest until morning, but plenty of them are still out there making people's lives hell. Jack is decent at drowning out the background noise. It's impossible to be in a hundred different places at once, so they just do what they can.

The walk back is silent on both ends. Weariness is sinking into his bones and he imagines it's much the same for Bucky. There's no point in wasting energy chatting, and he's not sure what he would even say in the midst of all this. Better to just focus on the task at hand and stay alert.

Which is how they hear that voice.

Hello. Help me.

Jack halts in his tracks. Something about it seems... off, almost like the monotone cadence of an omnic. He doesn't hear the metallic reverberation that he would expect, though.

He exchanges a look with Bucky, shaking his head to confirm he has no idea what that was. ]


Let's check it out.

[ He speaks quietly, barely above a whisper, and then starts to take careful steps toward the source of the noise.

The voice comes again.

Please. ]
freightcars: (Yᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ I ʙᴇ)

[personal profile] freightcars 2020-08-01 03:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ Jack's not wrong; Bucky's been fatigued for going on days. There are periods when it abates; after he manages to grab a couple hours of sleep, or during the adrenaline of a fight. Outside of that, he wears it somewhere on him even if it's not in his expression. His entire left side from ribs to neck is sore. The arm feels just a little heavier here than it did back home, which wouldn't normally be a problem except for the overuse — slamming his fist into unyielding things, letting himself get yanked around by it, even the muted pain receptors it carries add to it. Lactic acid doesn't dissipate quickly enough to keep up anymore. The little tears and strains stay put and compound.

He hasn't said a damn word about it, but he's been favoring his right side for everything — even this walk.

It hasn't gotten in the way so far, and it won't now. Something goes a little darker in his expression, a little more intensity or focus coming from the way his brow smooths out and his jaw sets at his back teeth.

The rifle roy gave him goes from lax to lifted, on guard but no finger on the trigger yet.

The source of it is coming from an alley off the main street, lit dimly by a window on the second or third floor — someone with a lantern, or emergency lighting, candles maybe. Something yellow-tinged that doesn't catch and refract on the wet ground below.

There's a figure several yards down, half in and half out of a recess in the alley. It seems feminine, with wispy-something that could be hair or a hijab flowing gently by the shadowy shape of her head. Her right side is hidden from view, and her left arm hangs down loose by her side.

There's something else that's off about her posture, but he can't put his finger on what it is.

I'm hurt.
It hurts.
Help me please.


He glances over at Jack again, and the grim set line of his mouth probably communicates a sentiment well enough: he's not calling out. Go for it if you want to, otherwise he intends to step silently forward until he can actually make out her features. ]
Edited 2020-08-01 03:51 (UTC)
personalwar: visor; <user name="moksutinn" site="tumblr.com"> (pic#12083083)

[personal profile] personalwar 2020-08-04 12:33 am (UTC)(link)
[ Jack hasn't missed the way that Bucky's favoring his right side, but he assumes it's something that he usually does as a result of his prosthetic. It stands to reason that he's been making more use of his metal arm ever since their lives turned into a constant series of fights, so he doesn't comment on it. It's instead something to keep in mind in the event that they end up in combat.

For now, it's not clear that's what's going to happen, even if the utter sense of wrongness may as well be coming out of the alleyway in waves. Jack activates his visor, which is accompanied by a soft whirring noise, but the figure further down the alley does have a heat signature.

She isn't behaving normally, that's for sure. Maybe she's been controlled by one of those slugs, but if that's the case, he's pretty sure that he and Bucky will be able to hold her down for long enough to snap her out of it.

Still, he isn't in any rush to identify himself. He returns Bucky's glance and nods before pressing forward. He steps as lightly as he can given that he's wearing combat boots and walking over slick concrete.

The figure seems to turn toward them, though only halfway. Jack can't make out any eyes yet, gold or not. She might have a hood drawn up over her head; it's hard to tell.

She draws in a breath, something shaky, though there's a strange vibration behind it too. Like that breath is echoing into a body much larger than hers seems to be. Jack halts. Every instinct that's been honed in him is yelling at him that something's not right here.

Come closer.
Please.
It hurts so much.
]
freightcars: (I ᴡᴀs ᴀғʀᴀɪᴅ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀ ʙɪᴛᴄʜ ɢʀᴀᴅᴜᴀᴛᴇ)

[personal profile] freightcars 2020-08-04 01:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ He's gonna make a mental note to ask about that visor later. Kind of curious what exactly it is Jack's getting from it. Doesn't seem like it's too far out of the norm if they're pressing forward.

She's maybe ten feet away when he realizes what's wrong with her posture. That thing he couldn't quite place, that weird subtle detail.

He stops. Raises his rifle properly, leveling it at her. ]


Her spine.

[ Murmured low, and despite the general lack of inflection it clearly reads something's wrong.

It's like her weight's at the top of it, like she's carrying it in that notch between neck and shoulders.

Could be anything. Could be the product of a bite. Could be just flat out genetics.

Could be that she's hanging there. ]
personalwar: visor (pic#12444007)

[personal profile] personalwar 2020-08-09 08:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Now that they're close enough, Jack can see it too. It's like she's dangling there, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Maybe a monster found her and strung her up, but his instincts are telling him that there's more to this.

The fact that Bucky's now lifted his gun to point it at her is a clear sign that he senses the same thing. Jack mirrors the action with his own handgun, jaw clenching as he waits for a clearer sign.

Why.
Why won't you help me.


He watches carefully, but the woman's mouth isn't moving.

Jack holds his ground, not willing to step an inch closer. ]


Come out into the light. Show yourself.

[ The alley's bathed in blue light as his chest glows. That wasn't just a suggestion; it was an order. ]

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freightcars: (ᴛᴇxᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴀsᴋɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ)

[personal profile] freightcars 2020-07-30 05:32 am (UTC)(link)
[ He gets the message when he's midway through fighting something already. He's gotten adept at ignoring the mental sensation of an alert coming in, but the sender and the preview catch his attention immediately. It makes him falter, which in turn earns him a nice blow to the chest, sending him reeling into a parked car.

Great. He'll feel that tomorrow.

In the meantime, urgency peaks. It takes him ten long minutes to finally put the thing down before he can respond. ]


on my way
stay put


[ The coordinates lead to some corporate courtyard surrounded on all four sides by looming building. One of those deliberate aesthetic pieces that acts an oasis among the otherwise clinical environment. Steve's quarantined himself evidently, judging by the jutting metal rammed into all four entrances to the place; he has to break the glass above the handle to reach in and tug an obstructing bar out.

It's quiet when he steps out beneath the shadowy overhang, peering across the sunlit grassy center to try and spot any movement in one of the opposite corners. Color catches his eye, and he spots the discarded shield propped up against the artificial river rock of a still-running babbling brook fountain.

Treading lightly is more a habit than a practicality right now, surely the soft tinkling of broken glass will have given away his presence. All the same, he's whisper quiet as he moves toward the shield, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, the quiet eerie and uncomfortable. ]
fossils: (pic#7753883)

[personal profile] fossils 2020-07-30 07:17 am (UTC)(link)
[ The broken glass alerts him immediately, the noise painful to its overstimulated senses, every nerve on fire. The transformation is in its final throes, but with nothing to attack but its own reflection in the reinforced glass instinct bade it to find cover behind neatly trimmed greenery, belly pressed against the cool stonework in an attempt to relieve some of the pain burning through its body.

It's come in waves, the pain of tissue and bone rearranging during this last stage. Both eyes glow gold, but half of its face remains in grotesque flux, a human eye, the familiar line of its jaw around the split mouth. Only its hands remain human-like as well, an attribute of the creature it's become.

As the steps draw closer to where it's hunkered down a low, guttural sound rumbles and clicks from its throat, the warning of an injured, threatened animal: don't come closer. ]
freightcars: (Fʟᴇxɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʙɪᴛᴄʜᴇs ᴀs ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴀs I ᴄᴀɴ)

[personal profile] freightcars 2020-07-30 07:27 am (UTC)(link)
[ Oh, Jesus.

Something in his throat clicks shut. He can't get a full view; sunlight dilates his pupils and makes that shadowy corner harder to parse, but he can see enough. Features that remain familiar, but that almost seem to be moving like living creatures beneath skin. Rearranging themselves and distorting something precious into something frightening.

It's wrong. It's absolutely viscerally wrong to see, not terribly unlike desecrating a church — if he were a man of faith, which he very much isn't. Not in God, anyway.

Alright.

He knows how this works. That's a grounding fact in the back of his mind, a steadying consolation that helps him steel himself.

He left his rifle inside the building. There's nothing in his hands when he gently holds them up. ]


Hey, buddy.

[ Slow and careful, low and steady. His pause is tentative and short, and then he takes another clearly telegraphed step. ]

Probably not a good time to tell you Billy Collins was right, huh?

[ Poor Barbara doesn't really hold a candle to this... ]
fossils: (pic#7753883)

[personal profile] fossils 2020-07-30 08:02 am (UTC)(link)
[ Beneath patchy fur its muscles ripple, its body held tense and held completely still except for its tails. They flick in every direction, telegraphing its growing agitation with the approaching figure.

As he takes his careful step forward its warning becomes louder and deeper. Its mouth begins to part, all four sections pulling back to reveal too many rows of teeth-- the sound released strangled and grotesquely human, like an attempt to form words hindered by misshapen vocal cords.

There's no recognition in its gaze.

It doesn't wait for another step forward. Instinct overrides pain and it lunges forward, mandibles open and strange forepaws reaching outward to tackle and pin its attacker/prey. ]
freightcars: (Nᴏᴡ ɪᴛ's ᴀ ᴄʀɪʙ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ Gᴀᴛᴇ)

[personal profile] freightcars 2020-07-30 08:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ This is his first time seeing one of these. The slow change was bad enough, the final form intimidating, but then rose petal flesh splits open into a grotesque display of teeth and muscle in four parts. ]

Holy--

[ That's all he manages to get out before it lunges, and reflex drives him to tuck and roll toward the bullseye target of that abandoned shield. He thrusts it up, aiming for--

...Jaw? Are those jaws? What the hell is the anatomy on this thing.

No, not thing. Sorry, pal. ]


Steve-

[ He grits out as he shoves, hoping to stagger.

Skin to skin contact. Sure, that's the objective, but he gets the feeling the second he puts his hand somewhere those teeth can reach it's as good as gone.

He needs that one, you know, considering. ]
fossils: (pic#7753883)

[personal profile] fossils 2020-07-30 08:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ It slams mouth first into the broadside of the shield-- the hard, metallic impact, the sound of its teeth screeching against the metal echoes in the courtyard.

The shove does the job, it lands on its back legs awkwardly, making that ungodly guttural sound crossed between a pained, human moan and a scratching, miserable howl.

The second it gets its feet beneath it again it makes another lunge. ]

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