ARRIVAL LOG 024

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone! Newbies! Yay!
WHERE: Red Wings (immediately), New Amsterdam (as a whole).
WHEN: June 8, 2512
WHAT: Newbies!
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy, references to a rebuilding city, anti-government protests, and shady mob dealings.

> ARRIVAL LOG #024

Just before the new arrivals show up, a message turns up in the inboxes of all of the Displaced. Unlike the message that normally comes in from El about new arrivals, it doesn't show up involuntarily, instead showing up as an optional message that anyone can ignore. Of course, this is one that people may not want to disregard, not at a time like this.

The author is "PM." It reads:

From now on, I'll direct all drop offs to Red Wings, unless circumstances change. You'll get a message a lot like this one when new arrivals are ready and incoming. I liked setting you guys somewhere fun for when you first got here, but we've had enough of the fun and games and bad zombie makeup.

I won't change the procedure. I won't give a lot of notice. They'll still have the same cocktail cooking in their veins. I can't change that. Too risky otherwise.

This may be the first and last chance I get to talk to you. Not an easy truth. I'm trying to set things right, but time seems tricky. You all know what this looks like, don't you? I don't think you're to blame, but I don't know that either. It could be me by way of you. Could be that this would happen anyway. I know Johann's got his hands involved in this somehow. It has his creepy fingerprints all over it.

One more thing. Thank Morningstar. I always meant to keep you on ice, thinking it'd be messed up to thrust you into this world. They took care of you and proved me wrong. I never asked them to do that, but they've kept it up. Now I hope you can help them.

The next batch arrives soon. Keep an eye out.

Unsurprisingly with a message like this one, replies won't be possible. Any attempts to trace it will lead to a dead end. Even El and Cassius won't be much use here, coming up against a wall that makes it seem like it came as a result of a hijacked UN emergency alert.

A hover van lowers to the ground mere moments after the message is sent. The staff this time is considerably smaller than usual: two guards and a nurse. Both guards get out of the front of the van and head toward the back. Just before they get there, they scope the perimeter. "They said they know we're coming. Stay alert." It's time to let these people out so they can head "home."

> PLANNED ARRIVAL

Despite the advance notice, your arrival will feel similar to the arrival of many who came before you. Awareness comes to you in blurred snatches, cloudy fragments of sound, light, color, and sensation. It's hard to grasp onto anything but a series of rhythmic beeps, a medicinal astringent smell, and the sensation of movement beneath you. Your eyes are heavy and you struggle to keep them open, but in the glimpses between slow blinks, you see a man in front of you dressed in all white. There isn't any other visibility. Not yet.

You realize there are others nearby, restrained the same way as you, and dressed in long-sleeved white scrubs. The humming feeling of the vehicle comes to an end, and the door to your right opens up, revealing two heavily armored soldiers. You may try to open your mouth to speak, to ask a question you can't quite grasp, but it's as if your tongue is coated in tar.

You realize there are others next to you: all dressed the same way as you. To your left there's an armored interior door, two more people visible, and 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.

"Get them off their IVs and get them out of here. I don't want to deal with any of those people if they find us out here." A masculine voice filled with a sense of urgency and—perhaps—fear? Awe? It's hard to say.

The next movements are swift and methodical. Once the IV is yanked out, you feel yourself guided out of the van into the alleyway. Once you're set in a row, the silent guard speaks: "Head to the front. Don't look for local assistance like the cops. Look for the glow. That's the deal. Listen to the people with the glow."

They don't waste any time after that. Both of the guards meet each other's gazes, and then nod to the nurse who helped the Displaced out of the van. No reason to stick around, and they don't want to risk running into those people with the crazy glowing chests. They'll definitely give it a miss.

Sure enough, they lift off within a minute's time, leaving the newcomers in the alley to have no choice but to follow instructions.

◉ 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 – and that includes the message passed on from the mysterious patron.

> WELCOME TO THE APOCALYPSE?

Of all of the cities that were ravaged in the recent attacks by a flood of monsters coming from regions unknown, New Amsterdam ended up in the best shape. That doesn't mean that it's looking good right now. The city's a mess: skyscrapers reach into the sky, illuminating little to no light because of the many shattered windows. Most of the overgrowth has started filling in again, offering a green hue to everything: making it seem as if the city is slowly being enveloped by nature once again. Worst of all: while the city looks like this, there's a sticky, muggy mist in the air thanks to the gross humidity. It feels like a constant cloud that hangs low over the day's proceedings.

As for what's going on around the city?

> RED WINGS
Much like the rest of New Amsterdam, Red Wings has only begun to recover. Although emergency services are no longer needed at the location, there are a number of local New Amsterdam citizens huddling close to the building just outside in tents, hoping to see a glimpse of the Displaced who work there. Many of them seem to think that if they stick close to Red Wings right now, they'll be in the safest place that the city has to offer. Franky, they wouldn't be wrong.

Business out of Red Wings is impossible right now thanks to the shattered windows and the damaged decorations on the inside. All that still hangs on the walls is a broken neon light fixture of Michigan and the (formerly) surrounding Great Lakes.

There are places to sit, as clearing out the bar area and cleaning it up has been a priority. The booths along the walls might have seen better days, but they offer a place to rest and wait for any attention.

Though the kitchen is understandably in bad shape, basic vegetable stews and curries are coming out to serve anyone who's hanging around, as well as the multiple Displaced who are (undoubtedly) assigned to cleanup duty for the time being. Drinks are on the house, as well, though they haven't refilled their stock of kegs since before the monster crisis. Hard liquor and cheap, unwanted wine will need to be enough for the time being.

> ANTI-UN DEMONSTRATIONS
In a world commonly known by its rigid structure and rule of law, New Amsterdam seems to be taking on a different flavor. Throughout the city, small pockets of people march while wearing the Morningstar insignia. This group has declared New Amsterdam a bastion of freedom from the United Nations, though the majority of citizens in the city aren't taking as bold of a stance just yet.

Thanks to the lack of UNA presence, there is little that the UN can do in light of this. However, people will find that any posts about these demonstrations will be promptly taken down so that the word doesn't spread through the rest of the world. Keep posting, and social media accounts will be deleted, with a ban put on for the next 48 hours to keep them from making another account.

The UN has slid into damage control.

> REBUILDING
Speaking of damage, the big three corporations (Pulsar, Giles Bell, and Vyonation) in New Amsterdam put all their resources toward helping the city recover. While they've funneled credits into previous crises, they know better than to withhold at a time like this, especially when there's an election on the horizon. These credits will go toward hiring workers around the city, helping build and deploy construction droids, and ensuring that people have enough income to ride out this crisis.

Thanks to New Amsterdam getting out of the crisis in better shape than most other cities, there are a lot of hands on deck to get the construction work underway. Anyone who's not afraid of heights and would like to fill their bank account with a good amount of funds can take up these short, contracted jobs to help rebuild the city. It's expected that the citywide repairs will take a few months to complete, assuming everything goes as planned.

In the meantime, get used to a city covered in green plant life that's seen better days. That's New Amsterdam now, for better or worse.

> THE ELECTION
To top off everything else that's happened in New Amsterdam, there's an election on the horizon. Even the newcomers will be able to vote, in part because they'll be considered long-term New Amsterdam citizens. And despite the questionable appropriateness of it all, there are political ads playing all over thanks to the geolocation focus of advertisements. Want to watch a show while clearing out rubble? Expect a commercial about Simone Durcell and what they can do for you. Want to just listen to some music? Expect an interruption about Joseph Lynch's long charitable history, and what he's doing to help New Amsterdam already.

These advertisements will be constant. But most interestingly, the corporations won't back a single candidate. After Katelin Jovavich's untimely death following the end of the simulation, the corporations are keeping mum on their preferences. It seems as if there's a corporate mandate to not publicly support anyone on social media, as well. Anyone who's employed by one of these corporations will have received a message "advising" them to not post about their political preferences during a trying time like this one.

(More information on the election can be found on the August calendar. There's also a thread for who you'd like to see win, or who you'd have your character support here on Plot Engagement.)

> SHADY DEALINGS
Not one to ignore the opportunistic gift horse right in front of them, both the Petrov Family and Riverside Mob move into action to take advantage of the chaos of the city. Their answer to everything that's going on? Kill them with kindness, with less killing and more kindness. Almost seemingly in tandem, they begin opening shelters around the city to offer people safe and dry places to live. So what if there are shady enforcers standing outside guarding the locations? At least they're safe.

In the evenings, these same mafiosos decide to flout the rule of the law by having open-air fighting rings in the sky parks. Although the NAPD is working around the clock to try to keep this creep of criminal power from enveloping the city, they're understaffed and overworked. Some of their employees have already taken off to New Beijing to join the newest rendition of the UNA army, and they don't have the staff to fill their shoes. The setup of these fighting rings is rather boisterous, as multiple members of the two mob families filter through the streets of the city with their typically concealed vehicles to begin setting up shop for the evening events.

These (extremely illegal) evening events will be a good place to pick up narcotics, weapons, and anything else that someone might be looking for from the Black Market. After all, who wouldn't want easier access to a gun during a time like this? There is always a risk that there will be a raid by the NAPD at these fighting rings, but their lack of staff means that someone can probably slip away unnoticed. Who even has the time to check all the surveillance to see who slipped away?

> HOUSING
Ah, housing! The cost of living in New Amsterdam was already going down thanks to the simulation and the numerous people aiming to move away. Now that half the buildings are in bad shape, renters will have an easy time finding an affordable location that suits their needs. There might be a wall or three missing, but there are still three to four bedrooms with appliances. Of course, the appliances may need to be covered in tarp while the city's still in its rainy season.

As for the newcomers, they won't have any safe place to hide. While they'll need to be brought to one of the two safehouse locations (Red Wings or the abandoned garage) for El to finish fixing up their identities, they'll need to be convinced to sit tight in the meantime. Not listening comes with a whole wealth of problems: the NAPD could arrest them, though they're admittedly understaffed. They won't be able to open doors anywhere, buy anything for themselves, or even take the sole train that's running within the city during these trying times. Still: El won't be able to do a rush job on these identities due to the state of the world, so the standard four days is still in place. Good luck convincing them to sit tight.

In the meantime, they'll have to get used to a few ugly truths about this new world:

◉ They'll be living on the kindness of others. While Morningstar and the Displaced have a good amount of second hand clothes to offer to newcomers, they won't be in the finest shape, especially after the recent crisis.

◉ The drug in their systems won't be going away for a few hours, so they'll have to deal with the urge to bark on command for a little while. At least it's not multiple days!

◉ This is a world without a lot of basic commodities. Coffee is hard to come by and extremely expensive. Paper? No one produces paper anymore, not even for the rich and famous. And bugs are the protein of choice given that they're easy to come by and don't take too much energy to source.

◉ While the Morningstar network will be set up for all the newcomers thanks to their proximity to Red Wings, no one will be able to VR and Chill until El finishes making their IDs. That means that any news reports or information about the world will be out of reach for the time being. Their fellow Displaced will need to help them out in the meantime.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

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 to roam free until JUNE 12, 2512 (AUGUST 23, 2020), and until that date will appear as "anonymous" on the network. 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. We do expect that some characters may be unwilling to sit tight for four days when they don't have a safehouse locking them in place. Feel free to plot amongst yourselves, and come to us if you have any additional questions!

If you have any questions or ideas about how you'd like to get your character involved in the world, please head over to the plot engagement post and drop us a comment! For questions specific to this log, there is a thread below.

The August CR meme for the month is here.

Please check out our August calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month. For an idea of why things are in such bad shape, please take a gander at our most recent Event Wrap Up. All of the plot paths there are available to newcomers, so feel free to ask us any questions here!

AC remains halved this month due to the state of the world right now. New players will only need to provide at least five comments across two-four (2-4) threads, while older players will only need to provide ten comments across two-four (2-4) threads. Please let us know if you have any questions about this!

> NAVIGATION

Comments

QUESTIONS

[larkers]

[filloryfanatic]

Could Quentin ask El/Gaby/Whoever if they can bring Margo and Penny to their apartment and have them sit tight there instead? Quarantined to that position!

[rehandle]

The log mentioned that renting is a lot easier and cheaper now, can the same be said for buying or is property mostly being held onto?

(I'll have a few more questions about property depending on the answer which will just be a lot of me getting fixated on fleshing out slice of life details whoops, should I head to the FAQ or to plot engagement for that? It's just a pair of marvels looking for a fixer upper and me being extra about the in-world realities of home hunting I'm sorry in advance for being this way)

Re: QUESTIONS

[givehimthekick]

[Just quietly raising hand over here, eek] Hello Mods! Quick question for you -- as mentioned in the "good luck convincing them to stay put" Arthur is pretty much definitely not going to just hang around in unknown future apocalypse land for four days because someone told him too? He is definitely going to try and hunt for information? I haven't figured out yet exactly where this boy will be staying or with whom, but dollars to donuts he's gonna try to go out and information gather. Is there a particular way you'd like me to go about sending him out to do that/areas he should avoid for plot sake? Thanks in advance!

margo hanson - the magicians

[gossipkinesis]

ARRIVAL | RED WINGS
[ margo hanson has never once been accused of being accomodating or compliant. it's not that she's difficult... okay, yes, she can be difficult. but she isn't one to just lay back and take it. she's always been a fighter. and without her powers, she'd still be the equivalent of this gif when she's being told what to do.

so you might say it's out of character to her to do as she's told, especially when she's in a situation she's never been in before. it's not like she hasn't been taken to other worlds or even different times before, that's an old bag for margo. but this is definitely new one.

but instead of sassing her captors, instead of kneeing someone in the balls and trying to escape whatever the fuck this is, she simply sits as she is told to do, her body and eyelids feeling heavy as any of the times she'd gotten high with eliot.

she'd been told she could wait outside and so she does, leaning against the wall of the trashed red wings, careful to cover the glow her chest is emitting, her thoughts dazed and disconnected as she eyes the smashed state of her surroundings.]

(a) [ she catches someone's eye who is passing and she finally musters up the will to speak but finds she cannot... a strangled sound escapes and she makes a face.]

(b)[ now that some time has passed, she's able to speak and this time, she's able to ask a passerby--] What the fuck happened here?

(c) [ now that some time has passed, she's able to speak and this time, she's able to ask a passerby--] Where can I get a drink around here?

(d) [ wildcard! hit me up with ideas. note: eventually eliot is going to be taking her back with him to his place.]

[commend]

( Scott gets the transmission. Without a base for welcoming, he's been finding himself at Red Wings. It's a bar that means more now, a bar where he'd met allies he hadn't before, one where he'd helped with triage and parked an ambulance. Behind. Or, in front when he needed to. It means more to him and to people camped out here.

Margo doesn't seem like an onlooker. She's leaning calmly. Or, is it carefully. Maybe it's quietly.

He sees her from down the block first, wondering if this is the first arrival.

He approaches. )

It's not open, but you can go inside. Did you just get here?

( He holds back 'Did they ask you to find someone to prove the glow?' For his part, Scott wears steak red gloves. He's taken to wearing them since the monster attacks, with so much skin-to-skin contact. He likes his emotions in place and other emotions deserve to be kept under wraps too. )

wildcard!

[jettisons]

[Bellamy's been spending a good chunk of his time at Red Wings, struggling to get it back into working shape. That's easier said than done, though, and when he gets that mystery message, he sighs in frustration. Admittedly, Red Wings is probably one of the safer places in the city at this point, but where the hell are they going to put these people?

He'll just have to figure out a way to make it work, apparently.

He heads in back for a moment, trying to find whatever supplies they have left that could help the new arrivals, and when he returns, there's a girl at the bar, head shaved.]

Hey. You new?

[It's only a question out of politeness, really.]

[emosey]

[ Does he look like a bartender? Mixing drinks is more of Tifa's thing. ]

You can help yourself. [ He gestures vaguely around at their surroundings. They are in a bar after all but she probably doesn't know that it's okay to just take whatever she wants right now. So consider this her official notice. ]

If you're hungry, they'll probably be serving lunch pretty soon.

A~

[endlessflask]

[ It's really just curiosity and sympathy that has Eliot going to check out the newcomers. At least, he thinks, they missed the monster fiasco, but they're still here and that's not great.

But then he sees her, and as soon as they make eye contact, Eliot's rushing over. ]

Holy shit.

[ He stops himself short of grabbing her by the shoulders, but Eliot's equal parts relieved and sorry to see Margo. ]

Later in the apartment!

[filloryfanatic]

[Quentin is so grateful to have somewhere safe to go back to. He never liked living in the safehouse so it was a blessing in disguise when he lost his friend here. It still makes him think of Klaus every day, but with good feelings. Most of the city is wrecked so they're lucky this place managed to get through it. Red Wings is a bit much so he's glad to get back.

He might have missed a message from Eliot because when he walks into the apartment, he's not expecting to find Margo in the living room. Quentin's brought some food he's managed to scramble up, it's chaos out there, and sets it on the kitchen counter, before he's moving over to her.]

Margo, no offense since you know, stuck here, but I'm so glad to see you.

[He never thought he'd see her again. Literally, since he's dead and all. Quentin puts his arms out so she can choose whether or not go give in to his hug.]

b

[sor]

[ Unfortunately for her, it's Ava who she stops as she absentmindedly walks by. She stops, shocked, before shrugging, arms lifted. ]

Beats me, I just got here. I'm still trying to match it with all the end-of-the-world movies I've watched, but no luck.

penny — the magicians

[delayable]

▶ 01. ARRIVAL

---

( for a second, penny thinks this is the afterlife that he's been cursed with. it's not too far out of the question, right? do the things he's done and end up nauseous and drugged and being pushed out of the back of a van.

it could be worse, he supposes. at least he's able to walk. and that's what he starts to do as soon as he's able, stumbling along and out of the alley and into the crowd. he doesn't recognize the city but whatever, if he's died, this should be what? the thing behind the pearly gates? isn't that where everyone wanted to go?

penny shakes his head and starts walking, taking in the utter destruction around him. he blinks, feeling the fuzz in his head clear a bit. once it does, he grabs the shoulder of the first person he sees and asks: )

Tell me what's going on.

( yes, it's a demand and no, he's not going to apologize. something about this doesn't feel right but really, nothing's felt right for a long time. maybe this is his new normal. maybe he's still dying.

later, once he's a little more clear headed, he's still wandering around, lost but unwilling to admit it. he tries to stop someone for directions but no one pays him any mind until penny steps in front of someone to force them to stop. that backfires when said person tells him to go eat garbage and penny starts trying to find a rubbish bin to do exactly that.

please, help him. )

▶ 02. RED WINGS

---

( eventually, penny makes it to red wings, bitching and cursing the entire time. don't get him wrong, he's glad to be inside and out of whatever's going on out there but what the hell mess is he in now?

at different points during the days after his arrival, you'll find penny:

1. drinking. he finds a bed and takes up residence there, drinking straight from the bottle and glaring at anyone who tries to get close to him.
2. up late looking for food. there's plenty of good samaritans that try and make him eat but penny mostly ignores them until the kitchen clears out and he has it to himself and can try and find something to eat without someone trying to spoon feed him.

thankfully, quentin decides to play hero and soon enough, penny's out of the safehouse and onto greener pastures.

or at least an apartment that affords some privacy. )

▶ 03. WILDCARD

---

( feel free to find penny just after getting out of his van or in red wings before he leaves with quentin. find me at spoonishly for any questions/plotting. )

Eventually when it's time to go!

[filloryfanatic]

(The message they receive is utterly fascinating and even if Quentin's still exhausted from the most recent ordeal, it's going to be memorized and stuck in his head for him to pick apart later. There's a new player in the game, or rather, an old player who just communicated more than usual.

Their apartment building mostly is intact and doing well, compared to many of the others, which he is grateful for. At the end of everything, having a stable bed to fall into was incredible. Quentin wasn't able to get to Red Wings right away for the arrivals because he figures there's people already there, and the lack of safehouse is going to change a lot.

Q finally makes his way in a little later having been sweeping up glass near the doorstop and pocketed some of the glass shards for his own experimentation later. When he steps into Red Wings he says hello to a few people ... but then spots a familiar face from across the room.)

Penny! Oh my god.

(The joy he feels cannot possibly be expressed outside of a bright smile and he runs across to throw his arms around his friend. Luckily not setting off an empty bond, but whatever, he has no regrets.)

— arrival

[myownwoman]

[ as per usual, gaby had intended on ignoring the new arrivals because she doesn't care -- some people had the capacity to care for immediately welcoming people, gaby teller does not. instead she'd left work to go to back to her flat and found her self watching a man being told to eat garbage and actually

looking for a trash can to rifle through, she supposes.

she sighs heavily and crosses the street, sandals splashing through the puddles and darkening the edge of her blue mechanic coveralls. ]

Stop that. [ snapped, absolutely an order, and even if this man is not one of the new arrivals, gaby is used to being listened to.

she steps in front of him, lifting her hand. ]

Stop.

wildcard~ aka welcome home penny

[endlessflask]

[ While Eliot is struck with the fact that he and Penny had never been particularly close, he's still glad to see him. Quentin's great, sure, but there's something undeniably delightful about having Penny (and Margo) here, too.

Eliot isn't super fond of change, so the suddenly full apartment feels comfortable and familiar.

And since Eliot is nothing if not a good host, he's pouring them out a couple of drinks. ]

So. Which Penny are you?

[ He asks as he slips a tumbler of whiskey into Penny's hand. ]

arrival

[unwings]

[ when the message goes out about new arrivals being imminent, cas leaves red wings behind and heads out into the streets with the other displaced ready to seek out their new comrades. they don't have to go far before there's a stranger gripping castiel's shoulder and demanding answers from him. what's coming out of penny's face, while it's heard, goes completely ignored for the moment while castiel's focus zeros in on that hand gripping his shoulder, head tilting down for his eyes to stare pointedly at it.

welp, you put it there, so really, this is your own fault, penny.

without so much as a warning, cas raises his bare hand to cover the back of penny's on his shoulder, immediately activating the empathy bond and firing up that blue glow that filters through the light fabric of castiel's tshirt and shines behind whatever scrubs penny's been put in. the bond is short, cas' hand falling away after he spots the glow, more a means to an end than anything else, but penny would still catch the brief flashes of investigative curiosity, a determined sense of purpose, and a steady, assured calm in stark contrast to penny's rising panic. ]

You've been trans-dimensionally relocated. [ cas starts, telling him in a detached, flat tone, in vivid and particular detail, exactly what is going on. ] This colony is called New Amsterdam, in the year 2512. Climate change and large-scale international war has ravaged the natural state of the planet, forcing the remains of humanity to huddle in tiered cities, enclosed by an atmospheric grid. Days ago, a hoard of shadow creatures emerged from inside the Earth and slaughtered roughly one million civilians world-wide, while severely damaging city infrastructure.

[ a beat, and cas adds on: ]

While you were asleep, unknown forces performed involuntary brain surgery on you to install a computer chip at the base of your skull and deposited you here for us to find you. Drugs you've been injected with have left you extremely susceptible to suggestion for the next several hours.

[ as if to demostrate that, cas gives penny a single command before turning to walk back down the sidewalk towards Red Wings. ]

Follow me.

marcos diaz ( the gifted )

[heliophilous]

▶ 01. RED WINGS

---

( the last time this had happened, marcos had stayed away. he'd been upset and felt that wallowing in his sorrows was allowed. he'd lost a lot and while he's still sore and scarred, he's feeling better.

just a shame he really hasn't spoken about what happened. he's pushed it down and that's that.

but, when the message comes, marcos decides to head over to see what's the what. he's been working long hours at pulsar so while he's tired, he's ready to work.

when he gets there, he talks quietly to a few people about the message because that's...very pointed and he's very curious. but he can't really get too into it as he starts in cleaning up red wings and getting it presentable for the new arrivals.

a few hours later, he's passing out drinks because hey, that's probably needed right now. it was needed when he showed up. )

▶ 02. REBUILDING

---

( after the latest crisis, an idea had started to form in marcos' mind. but, it's not an idea that he can just...set out and make happen immediately. he's done some research on it and the first thing he needs is money.

which is why marcos starts taking on side construction jobs in addition to his work at pulsar. the building he's been assigned to work is barely standing up and marcos worries that he's going to end up falling through the shoddy flooring when he's up on the higher floors but he tells himself it'll be worth it.

his break can't come soon enough and you'll find a dust covered marcos on a nearby bench, sipping water and wondering what he's gotten himself into. )

▶ 03. WILDCARD

---

( if you'd like to do something else, feel free. )

bucky barnes / marvel 616

[deadthenred]

001. Rebuilding

[ Bucky needs the money and doesn't mind hard labor, so he takes a couple of suddenly plentiful construction jobs.

The problem: he doesn't like heights. He wouldn't say "afraid". Fear implies a suspicion of danger, and a sense of self preservation. Bucky isn't afraid of anything. But he doesn't like heights. They make him queasy, especially if he looks down for too long.

At work, he doesn't talk a lot, just clocks in and does his job. And he can get through it, even the high stuff. He's not afraid of heights.

But one day on the job his eyes follow a shadow over the edge of the tower crane he's standing on, and soon he 's seeing how small the people below look from up here, and he needs to steady himself. ]

Sorry. [ He turns a head to whoever the poor sap is standing next to him, but doesn't move his hands from the railing. ] Just— gimme a sec. ]

002. Red Wings

[ Red Wings is close to a lot of construction sites, and he heads there often after he's done for the day. He'll pitch in with the cooking when the new arrivals show up, but mostly, he comes there to drink. Even though the place isn't exactly private, the only ones coming around are the Displaced, so he feels comfortable rolling his sleeves up. His left arm is different— he had to get it replaced, after the monsters.

He grabs a glass and sets it down. ]

You want some? [ It's hard liquor, the least suspicious looking stuff he could find, but god knows they can do things with food coloring. ]
I'm pouring.

003. Fighting Rings

[ Bucky hasn't sought the fighting rings out since he first heard about them; he doesn't like violence for money. But now they're above ground, and the gangs must be feeling pretty full of themselves to make a move like this.

He's trying to just scope the scene out, avoid any and all messes. But he must look like he's got something to prove, because soon he's cornered by a gang of three, all in black, looking to recruit him for a fight he doesn't want. So yeah. Pretty full of themselves. ]

Look, just lemme get back to my friend— [ There's a part of him that just wants to deck them all, but he knows that would mean more trouble. But the truth is he came here alone.

Still, he knows a lot of Displaced frequent the fighting rings, and he scans the crowds for someone he knows. Even just a vaguely familiar face from the safehouse. ]

( also feel free to wildcard, or come and plot with me elsinore if you want to discuss something else!)

002. RED WINGS

[heliophilous]

Yes.

( the first few days after caroline's departure, he'd done a lot of this. he'd allowed himself to wallow and drown his sorrows until he couldn't see straight.

but, he thinks he's climbed out of the worst of that and now he just wants a drink to unwind. )

Don't even tell me what it is, just pour.

sam drake | uncharted

[withmeinparadise]

fighting rings. closed.

Look, you say the mob's got illegal fighting rings and of course Sam's gonna ask where. That's easy money if you know how to throw a punch--and let's just say Sam knows how to throw a punch. So he asks a few questions of the right people, lets his eyebrows say the things he's not actually voicing, and he finds his way to the sky parks.

He's an unknown quantity, but the whole racket feels like it was organized about five minutes before anyone showed up, so he's not too worried about it. Same thing as getting there: you say the right things to the right people, and you get shoved into the ring once the crowd's yelling about someone getting KO'ed. There's so many people that even with his height, he misses the details of the last fight, but who cares? This is money going straight into his pocket.

Or it would be, right up until he's standing there, his dukes up, staring at the face of his baby brother. Sam's eyes go wide for a second, and then he tips his head back a fraction of an inch. It's acknowledgment and instruction all at once: C'mon, lay it on me.

Like hell is he knocking Nathan out.

drinks. open.

At some point after he gets the shit kicked out of him, he winds up sitting in a bar, apparently managed by his baby brother, with a bottle and a shotglass. He's impressed with the place, even with the broken windows--it almost feels like something from home, and hell, Nathan's running the place. That's nice. Real nice.

Anyway, he definitely looks like he's seen better days, but the bruising on his face is already starting to go down. A goddamn miracle--maybe his nose'll heal without getting even bumpier than it already is.

Consider your options, many and varied, and pick your poison:

→ "Illegal? What the hell do you mean, smoking's illegal?" His fingers are tapping on the surface of the bar quick enough that this isn't really a theoretical concern for him.

→ A smile, charm perfected over years of sweet-talking pretty women into ignoring his receding hairline, directed at some new and decidedly pretty woman. Mid-twenties and up, please and thank you. "Hey, you, uh, you wanna join me for a drink? It ain't bad."

→ Making a face like he's staring down an oncoming semi, followed by some...you might call it head-bobbing? Eye movement for sure, his gaze flicking around. And finally some kind of grimaced relief. "Jesus Christ, I am not used to that."

→ Hanging out, a little fuzzy-edged by this point, just looking to shoot the shit. "So what brings you to this fine establishment?"

wildcard.

[ Sam's kind of a sleazy guy, but in a fun way (you know, if that's what you're into). He can probably be found sticking his nose into all kinds of places, so please feel free to throw something else his way! I'm happy to discuss over PM or PP prettydoes as needed as well. ]

[nonscriptum]

He's been trying to find a decent in with either of the families, some kind of criminal connection he can exploit. A link between them and the higher-ups, whichever bigwig was pulling the strings of Global Spiral, something, anything. Nate considers it more of a reconnaissance thing for the purposes of identifying players and treats it as such: he's muscle, and he handles it well, and if anyone takes an interest he can use that to his advantage. Worse comes to worst, he walks away with some more credits in his metaphorical pocket and some stress expressed.

What he doesn't expect is the next guy who enters the ring.

The last one they had to drag out, Nate's knuckles bloodied, fists clenched at his sides, barely registering the body so much as the better-dressed individuals on the outskirts, talking furtively. This catches his attention more sharply: a taller, lankier form, and when Nate finally focuses on him it feels a little bit like a punch to the gut.

His eyes widen, his shoulders drop, he watches Sam give him a look he knows all too well - c'mon, hit me, just like we used to - but the cognitive dissonance brought on by the fact that he's here stymies him.

Nate thought he'd gotten over it, the hurt and the shock and the betrayal before Rafe leveled a gun at him and Sam dove in front of it, taking a bullet in the arm just before bumping Nate over a cliff in what would have been a comical move had it not probably killed him. He thought he'd processed it, more like buried it, under so much other shit he never wants to address.

It bubbles up before he can help it, jaw clenched as the screaming of the crowd dulls his hearing to a faint ringing and Nate lets that energy ricochet down his arm as he takes a swing.

Ava Silva | Warrior Nun

[sor]

PLANNED ARRIVAL

Ah, shit, not again...

[ Ava leans against a wall, breath heavy as she tries to calm herself. Just as she was getting used to being alive and surrounded by people she cared about, things take a complete turn once again. It's a little too much, she would like to say, but at the moment she's at a loss for words. Ava isn't sure if she's mad, scared, or a mixture of both. For the time being though, the words she was told moments ago ring in her head with unusual strength. There's something odd going on there, but she can't quite put her finger on it.

Still, they do ring true, for some reason. Search for people with the glow, whatever that means. She's not one to trust authority anyway, and Ava is almost completely certain she's very much an illegal in this place. ]

Toto, I think we're not in motherfucking Kansas anymore...

RED WINGS

[ If Ava has learned anything in the short time she's been up and about back in her world, is that she can't just go on her own and get into all sorts of trouble. This being most likely not her own world (as far as she can tell "New Amsterdam"'s current appearance doesn't fit anywhere in her limited knowledge of things.

They told her to wait for her ID to get the finishing touches... and so she's waiting. There's that strange compulsion to do as told (which couldn't be further from Ava's normal personality), but she would like to believe that she's mature enough to know when to actually follow advice (not really).

She can be found kicking rocks nearby, sighing in boredom every now and then. ]

Ugh, what would Beatrice do? Other than kick ass and look badass while doing so.

WILDCARD

[ Find her anywhere, probably sticking her nose where she shouldn't. Ava is inquisitive, unashamed and a bit of klutz, so she tends to pop up in a crowd, usually to her detriment. ]

Red Wings

[reproached]

I don't know who Beatrice is, but I'd sit down and eat something while we've still got food.

[ This wisdom coming from the chef himself, as he's making the rounds and distributing bowls of curry to some of the new arrivals while the rest of the staff are too busy to do it themselves. They're all stretched thin.

Murphy pauses by Ava, his tray raised in offering. She can refuse, if she likes. He's pretty careful with his words while the drug's still in their system. But he's serious about their dwindling food supply. ]

Arthur ☼ Inception

[givehimthekick]

01. Wherein Arthur Arrives (open)
[For a moment, Arthur thinks this must be a dream. It must be a job gone wrong, a dream within a dream, something he doesn't remember waking up from. But the sensations turn out to be too real, too hard to explain with even the logic that follows dreams. The medical tang is too sharp, the movement of the vehicle too pinpoint, the feel of scrubs on his body to unfamiliar to be found in a dream. Arthur does not, as a rule, wear scrubs.

He looks around: step one--gather your bearings, gather information--and he sees there are others, like him, in the same clothes. Restrained. In the same transport. Interesting--

He tries to speak but there's something thick on his tongue and he can't push past it.

As quickly as he's aware of their surroundings the surroundings change and they're dumped--an IV is pulled (not even registered at this point, with the number of IVs Arthur has pushed and pulled in and out of his skin--and left in an alley with instructions.

He thinks for a moment that he should spend his time looking for his team--for Eames, for Cobb, for Ariadne--even Saito would be a familiar face right now. Arthur is a man who functions best when he knows the layout of the land, when he has the foundational information secured. When he's got his team accounted for. But before he can go to looking, there's a push as deep as his bones that won't let him do anything but what the order indicated: 'Head to the front. Don't look for local assistance like the cops. Look for the glow'.

Despite any misgivings he might have, he goes to the front--so busy in comparing the world he's in now to the one he remembers (things are different, just three shades of wrong, familiar enough he feels like he should know them, but different enough they're foreign) that he nearly collides with the person walking past as he rounds the corner--it's only sluggish muscle memory and training that keeps him from colliding into them completely] Christ--

02.Wherein it's Just Better if We Drink (Open & nebulous time after arrival)

[At least one thing is constant: Bars. This one may be in drastic need of repair, but at least it's a bar and there are drinks. And food. Arthur finds himself in Red Wings more than he means to be--he's not usually one to set up shop in a place like this, but it does have a bit of charm doesn't it? What with the windows broken as they are, and the rag-tag group of people that seem to move through the building at all hours. There's something to be said for people watching. A lot can be learned through just--watching.

That's not to say he's unapproachable. No, if you grab a drink and make your way to the seat he's claimed this particular night, you'll be rewarded with a tight smile and a shift that makes it clear you're welcome to sit.

Take the invitation, and Arthur will even be the first to start conversation over the glass of what might be whiskey one night, might be vodka another:] Too predictable to ask if you come here often?

03.Wherein Arthur Doesn't Stay Put Like He's Told (Open & 2-3 days after arrival)

[So, he's in the future. Sure--that seems like something that could have happened. If he wasn't seeing it daily with his own eyes he would blame some concoction of drugs, some yet-understood trick of a dream scape they're lost in (he's not entirely ruled that one out--but it doesn't seem to follow dream logic as he knows it, so--), but he can't find a cup of coffee to save his life, he's got a scar that definitely wasn't there before and there are people that glow.

It's--a shift. So Arthur does what Arthur does best: he gathers information. It'll take days, he's told, to get his ID set up and he should lay low in the meantime. Find a place to hole up. Arthur does not do well with sitting in a place and waiting for things to happen--too much like being trapped in a foxhole, too much like waiting for a kick at the end of a bad dream. If he's going to be lost in the future, he's going to at least know about the place he's lost in.

So he--well, sneaks out isn't exactly the right term, but he does leave when others aren't specifically paying attention and slips onto the streets of New Amsterdam (the city's name, at least, he's gathered in conversation).

The first time he did this, it was just to talk to some of the locals, a bit of conversation here, a quiet question there: there are protests primary against the UN, but he can't get much information about them--people seem too nervous, tight-lipped except for a few dropped lines about 'the Displaced' being the real help. When he asks about the damage to buildings, he realizes he's outed himself as an outsider and backs off the questioning even as he's shown a photo or two of--are those actual monsters?. Tonight though--he'll see if he can find out a bit more from under the surface.

A thought that lasts until he runs into the first door he tries to make it through: it doesn't budge.] Of course, doors don't work.

[Oh, did that door lead to your place of business or the door to your apartment? Consider this his apology--]

04. Wildcard

(totally available for any other idea you've got. Hit me up at justplainchy. Will plot for days!)

01!

[evocation]

[Kyna gets the message and figures, hey, serendipity. She was heading back to Red Wings anyway for her shift, although "shifts" are kind of a nebulous thing right now. They're not really operating like a bar as much as they're operating like an aid station. The people clustered together on the sidewalk only makes this whole thing feel more apocalyptic, and so she does her best to ignore them, for better or worse.

She doesn't really manage it, and so she's distracted enough that she nearly slams right into Arthur. Considering how short she is, it wouldn't have damaged much more than their egos anyway.]

Holy shit, sorry. Uh—

[Okay, shaved head, general dazed and disoriented look... Kyna's expression shifts from shocked to understanding, and she tilts her head.]

Looking for a glow?

lottie person / snotgirl

[antihistamine]

📸 hashtag activism

[ Lottie can be found outside the rubble of various New Amsterdam buildings, including Red Wings, dressed in an extremely cute pink mini-skirt, posing for selfies. It's to raise #awareness for her followers outside of New Amsterdam to see what a terrible doom has befallen the city, and also to reassure her followers that she's completely fine, except for, you know, all the trauma of being attacked by monsters. (She wasn't that attacked, honestly, but there's a trauma there too. What if monsters don't want to eat you? Could that be a bad thing? They always like pretty girls, right? Oh no, rejected even by evil anime creatures!! Woe is she. Woe is Lottie!!)

The picture has to be quiet, introspective, and showcase a perfect smokey eye. Hard work. She's mostly oblivious to the team trying to repair the building around her.

But, if someone approaches and seem reasonably photogenic, Lottie might ask if they want to take a picture with her, a longer and more involved process than an amateur might suspect. If they aren't, she'll ask them if they mind taking her picture instead. This is all for her cooltalk, of course!

If instead someone asks her to help with the relief efforts she stares at them, confused. ]

But I'm wearing heels.

[ Obviously. ]

🥤 quest for cold brew

[ Since arriving in New Amsterdam, the bulk of Lottie's free time, when not taken up by incredibly stressful activities like managing her comment section or being chased around by monsters has been spent trying to locate a decent glass of half-caf lavender cold brew. (Cardamom would also be acceptable.) She's found one spot not far from where the safehouse used to be that is almost decent, and also obscenely expensive, but when she finally ventures out in the aftermath of the carnage, the lights are dark and the window glass has been pushed in. ]

Oh no! What will I do?

[ She actually says that out loud. What a desperate situation!! What a tragedy!! And even worse, someone is there to witness her misfortune. ]

You wouldn't happen to know a café that's actually open right now, would you?

[ She uses her sweetest influencer voice. Hopefully they know a place. Hopefully she hasn't already been banned. ]

( wildcards also okay!! you can reach me via pm or at elsinore if you want to plot. )

hashtag activism!

[jettisons]

[Bellamy is planning on walking past Lottie, actually, on the way to Red Wings to help clean up. Clean up more to be technical. It seems like that's a job that will never end.

He's thrown when she asks for a picture, and he blinks at her, looking utterly uncomprehending.]

Why?

[Great job, Bell.]

Terrence Ephemera | Red vs. Blue (OTA)

[requiemshark]

Red Wings

[ So, the world didn't end. It got messy for a while but on it trudges. The survivors picked themselves up, dusted themselves off, and on they go. For his part, Ephemera's picked a corner of the bar where he can watch the room and keep his back to the wall, a broom and dustpan propped up beside him.

Work goes on, too. But he's taking a break for now. And drinking. Whiskey this time. Slower than he usually cares for. He's been going through a single glass for a while now, a hood pulled up over his face to hide the worst of the scars. ]

You need something?

[ He's been trying not to snap at people so much these days and so his tone is even, measured. ]

Fight Club (a)

[ Apparently they're doing this thing out in the open air now. The larger risk means a bigger pot, more betting, and Ephemera's not in the mood to turn down a good paycheck. He stays in the area designated for fighters, stretching and wrapping his hands. Unlike most of the other fighters, Displaced or otherwise, he always fights in long sleeves, with his hands carefully wrapped. He's calm despite the noise and press of the crowd, flexing his hands and waiting for his bout to be called.

Won't be long now. ]

You getting in on this?

[ It's asked mildly. ]

Fight Club (b)

[ Though he's part of the crowd, Ephemera isn't here as a fighter this time. He's dressed in dark clothes, a hood pulled up over his face. He angles himself to hide the scars and he isn't pleased to find himself with company. ]

What.

[ He's here to by ammunition, to stock up on what he spent during the last attack, and he intends to get it done quickly. ]

Wildcard

[ Go nuts. Hit me up at mirrorfaded if you’re in the mood for something specific. ]

red wings

[strove]

[There is still a lot that needs to be determined, and a lot of conversations that need to be had. But Red Wings is in bad shape, so surveying the area, figuring out what needs to be done, and assigning tasks to people is the way to go. Stephen's right that they'll need some more professional assistance, but she knows the Displaced don't like having idle hands.

When he speaks to her in a measured tone, she's not unsurprised, but then, she's known this version of him. Thanks to dreams and other arrangements, anyway. (He's also pretty calm-seeming in text, at least compared to what she knows best from home.)]

Wondering where you wanted to get started. [Half true, but also:] And I'm wondering how you're doing. [She knows he's seen a world come to an end before. She wonders if he was hoping to just wake up this time like she had shown him in the dreams. Or did he take something like this in stride?]

maine | open to all

[bloodbathing]

I. RED WINGS

[ Maine is a passingly familiar face around Red Wings, although that has less to do with how much he visits and more to do with how memorable he is. Seven-feet-tall and heavily muscled, Maine draws eyes wherever he goes. The de facto headquarters for the Displaced is no exception.

He doesn't appear interested in staying for long. He grabs a drink (hard liquor) and leans against one of the undamaged walls, his eyes darting from face to face without lingering. He's searching for a specific person. However, if he spots someone familiar in the process, he'll give them a nod in greeting.

When he finishes his drink, he leaves quickly. He may even bump into someone on his way out. There's no chance of the empathy bond activating — Maine keeps bare skin to a minimum. However, there is a chance that he'll knock the person back a few steps, in which case he'll mutter, ]

Sorry.

II. REBUILDING

[ Maine is not a fan of heights. At all. Thankfully, he's big enough and strong enough that he can get work despite that. He just doesn't step too close to any ledges. He's been kicked off of a building once before; he's not looking to repeat the experience.

He's a hard worker, albeit a very quiet one. Communicates mostly with deep grunts, nods, or shrugs. He wears gloves, but his arms are bare: anyone who brushes against his skin will feel a flash of boredom and dissatisfaction before he quickly pulls away.

A sledgehammer or two goes missing while he's on the job. How curious. ]

III. CORPSE CLEAN-UP

[ Cleaning up monster carcasses is not a job for the squeamish. Fortunately, Maine can rarely be called that. He helpfully hauls corpses to disposal sites — but not right away. First, he checks for any interesting material.

Strange horns? Interesting. Teeth and claws? Interesting. Armor plating? Very interesting.

Don't mind him as he hacks off pieces with what looks like a firefighter's ax. ]

IV. SHADY DEALINGS

[ When he's not helping to rebuild or appropriating raw material from monster corpses, Maine can sometimes be found at the fighting rings. He's a more familiar face here than he is at Red Wings. He fights a few times. Puts on a good show before picking up his opponents and chucking them out of the ring. But for once, fighting isn't why he's here.

Maine did just fine using a makeshift weapon during the monster invasion. However, he's interested in something more effective. More lethal. Perhaps something ranged, so he'd at least have that as an option. However, making shady deals is not his forte. He's too blunt, and he looks too much like someone's bodyguard. People keep treating him like he's acting on behalf of someone else. And while that's not necessarily a bad thing, it does get old pretty fucking fast.

Give him a hand with the negotiations? Or perhaps ask him to embrace the role and look suitably intimidating to get a better deal? ]

( ooc: got another idea? hit me up by pm or on plurk. )

iv ;

[leaderboards]

[ lacking for proper weapons during new amsterdam's most recent crisis hadn't meant that the freelancers couldn't fight, just that it was more of a challenge than usual. under different circumstances, carolina would have liked the challenge. in a wildly unprepared city during a movie-worthy monster invasion, mere days after fighting maine at the warehouse? not the appropriate circumstances to drill new guerrilla warfare techniques.

so it's a good thing that carolina had come across a cornered mercenary, back when everything was still in chaos, when she had killed one of the larger monsters by collapsing a rickety wall at just the right moment. took the comment the mercenary made about her being poorly equipped as a chance to make a contact. a good thing, too, that introducing herself as hawke's friend gave her extra clout in that space where the underground fighters and mercenaries overlapped. she's not completely a stranger to the circuit — neither are wash or maine — but hawke said something to inspire them during the invasion and carolina will gladly take advantage of her friend's influence.

her and maine have a meeting arranged, something carolina could have handled herself, but maine wasn't busy and she knows full well that he looks more intimidating than she does. that's one of the reason they've always worked well together: she's good with shadows and he's a distraction that's hard to miss.

he's also oh-so-helpfully carrying the physical portion of their bartering currency: a bag of monster parts that seem to be the most in demand. they've cleaned the parts, mostly, but there's still enough of a smell that they get a little extra space as they make their way through a neighbourhood that used to just be shady and now is shady and close to ruins. carolina, dressed a little more on-trend than she usually would be, trying to appear like she's ever actually made any sort of arms deal before, is more than okay with that. ]

So, do we lead with you cracking your knuckles in that way that terrifies people or wait until this dealer gets difficult?

[ they might as well refine the plan before they get there and she's taking his input. if her expression is lit up in that way a good challenge always thrills her, maine should just ignore that. this isn't supposed to be fun. ]