[log] Bunker Blues [closed]

[jumpthegun]

Characters: OTA for those in the Bunker
Location: Bunker
Date: Day 372-375
Summary: Bunker times! Exploration, close encounters of the moldy kind, radiation, evil bugs, all the good stuff.
Warnings: Please just place in subject lines.

[The inside of the bunker is a unique environment. Being entirely enclosed, you'd think that it would be easy to explore, but instead, it's one of the most dangerous; most of the rooms are covered in foul-smelling, faintly glowing mold, and it's obvious this isn't a good environment to stick around in. There are some areas that are safe to travel in, but most are not. While there's no explicit warning that you shouldn't be out in the radioactive mold, you feel worse and worse as you travel, so it's obvious something bad will happen if you keep going.

While in the bunker, your tablet's battery also runs down. It will last approximately 24 hours of use, though if you're doing a lot with it then it will run out faster. Additionally, you are cut off from the network entirely. No PMs, either. You can access anything you've downloaded to your tablet, though, and Winter's shadownet still works, though using that drains quite a bit of power. In order to recharge your tablet, you will have to be outside of the bunker.]

Comments

[jumpthegun]

A - Day 372
[John is in Bunker Room 04, a wetted bandanna tied around his nose and mouth, and a shovel out, digging through one of the large mounds of mold. He stops, periodically, to wet the mold he's digging through down. It's an effort, but he does finally hit something, and anyone nearby might hear him cry out triumphantly as he leans down, shoves more mold aside and comes up with... something metal.

He could probably use a friend for puzzling out what he's found. As it happens, it seems to be a piece of a military uniform, the owner long since dissolved into the mold, itself.]

B - Night 372
Don't muck around with the drawers in that room at the northeast end.

[This warning is issued by a very sickly-looking Dr. Watson. He has several swollen lumps on his neck and face, and he's huddled in a corner, curled up and slumped against the wall.]

B

[thewarningafter]

Thanks for the advice.

[Stephen drops into a crouch an arm's length away, eying John with the definite air of someone mentally working up a prognosis.]

What was it?

OTA

[thewarningafter]

A - Night 372

[Stephen is in Bunker Room 24, and this is all even worse than he'd expected. As soon as people start trickling in he's eying each of them thoughtfully, watching for people who look particularly unwell, or who look like they could use some of the stockpile of clothing he's brought with him.]

Hey. Need anything?


B - Night 373

[One day of explorations in and he's already worried about people doubling up on efforts and wasting time...or going too deep into the bunker without knowing they've gone too far to make it back safely. He's got a container of black paint he's been warming up in his pocket for the last half hour; it's old and clumpy but it smears on the wall alright when he starts sketching an outline of the building as he understands it on the wall of Room 24. He's literally fingerpainting and his hands are unsteady at the best of times, so it's kind of a shitshow of wobbly lines, but it's looking like a readable map all the same. Help a guy out?]

B

[holmesice]

[If something bad has happened to John Watson, there's a good chance Sherlock was in equal or greater danger.]

...that looks unfortunate. Whatever that was, it didn't get my brother, did it?

[jumpthegun]

Some sort of ants. Sherlock caught some of them, but they all came raining down on me when I opened the top drawer.

[Being short is awful, Stephen.]

Feel nauseous. [John's not going to mention it's reminding him of Miller's cells.] D'you still have any of that pepto bismal?

[jumpthegun]

[Nngh... He doesn't want to deal with Mycroft, just warn him.]

No. He caught a few of the bastards. Maybe you should go talk to him about those.

['You're just giving him fodder to torment you, John. He's petty.'

John tries to ignore Mary, but his gaze slides toward her for a brief, annoyed moment before he refocuses on Mycroft.]

[thewarningafter]

[Stephen winces, but his gaze is sharp and a little bright when John asks his question. Without thinking or pause, he immediately rattles off the exact amount he's carrying--it amounts to four days' worth at moderate dosage for an adult. He pauses, a little embarrassed--that counting obsession is still in full swing--and shifts to sit down and remove his backpack.]

I also have some Loperamide, if diarrhea is a concern.

[jumpthegun]

[John doesn't comment on that... display of memory. He's not sure what to make of it beyond a further extension of the other man's pill-counting obsession.

'It's probably been getting worse.' Mary looks over Stephen, expression concerned. Stephen might catch John looking up and over his shoulder before he actually refocuses on the man in front of him.]

No, it's just... feeling like I'm gonna be sick. Don't feel much like eating, either. [Which is never a good thing. John's consciously forced himself to eat, hungry or not. But right now the very thought of putting anything but water in his mouth has him even more queasy.]

Are you all right?

B

[sleight_of_fate]

[Rhys doesn't have a lot of supplies on him, but at current, he's taking his position as overseer of First Aid Things fairly seriously.

Especially since his particular specialty is jury-rigging, and when he sees the inflamed bites on Watson's neck, it draws a frown from him followed by digging in the smaller of his two backpacks for what he's put away for just the occasion: a plastic bag filled with damp, used teabags.]

Here. This will help with the...what the hell is in here to bite you?

[thewarningafter]

Hm?

[Stephen gives him a mildly confused look that gets quickly replaced by a tight smile. Why wouldn't he be okay, John?]

Back to myself. Lost a week, but who hasn't had that happen. Are you staying hydrated?

[He successfully digs out the bottle of Pepto Bismol and hands it over. His estimate of a moment ago was pretty damn accurate.]

[holmesice]

[Too bad, John. Mary's right, he's terribly petty. He's doing his best not to sound amused.

He notices John's gaze settling momentarily elsewhere, but there's little else to go on, so he files it away for the time being.]

Perhaps I shall. But...exactly how did you encounter these...whatever they were?

A

[holmesice]

[There's a terribly sardonic look from Mycroft as he glances up from digging through--rather, organizing--his pack.]

Surely you don't mean that.

A

[headjacked]

[ Rhys comes prepared with a mask of his own. Torn strips of yellow, salvaged from a shirt. He'd like to think he's Old Hat at this bunkermold business by now, being a whole... two-three days ahead of John.

So this time, he can help. He makes plenty of noise when he approaches, not wanting to spook any of the Bunkercrew. ]

Anything good??

B

[phaseshifter]

There are bugs in that room.

[ Angel has been uncharacteristically withdrawn for the last couple of days. With more people trickling into the bunker, it's been easier to coast by being quiet and unnoticed instead of making the effort to be like her usual self. Not talking to people is only making things worse for her, of course, but at least she doesn't have to worry about her mask slipping.

Stupid masks. They always cause trouble. She points at room 10 on the map, looking very dull and tired. Which isn't really unusual in Norfinbury, let's be real. ]

They're like threshers, but small, and instead of tentacles they have an excessive amount of legs. Gross, but harmless as far as we could tell.

[fiftheclipse]

[1] - Night 372

[It took entirely too long for Junpei's group to get here. And once they did, the only option was heading straight into one of those guard stations with no chance to explore further.

It's kind of frustrating, but it can't be helped. So for now, he can be found in Room 26, looking at the computers and trying to figure out what's preventing them from powering on. ... It's not going so well.]


[2] - Night 373

[It's Room 24 that he's settling on, for this night. It just wouldn't make sense to pass up the chance to see another new place while he can. He's a little worn out this time, as expected of anyone who's spent the whole day around all this mold, but he still seems pretty content with his discovery as he announces his arrival:]

Hey! We've got water and working stoves at the end of the hallway.

... Y-you know. In case thinking about cooking right now wasn't totally disgusting...

[It's still something, okay?]

[thewarningafter]

...Wasn't talking to you.

[More like he hadn't recognized him in the dim light when he glanced over. Ugh. This asshole. Stephen doesn't wish death on him or anything, but Mycroft's right, he doesn't meant the offer of help for him.]

Re: B

[thewarningafter]

[The look Stephen gives her is a little too long and thoughtful to pass as a casual glance. He hears it in her voice; he doesn't have to know Angel well to pick up on her despondency.

Rather than commenting directly (or asking what the hell a thresher is), he taps on the room where John picked up all those ant bites.]

Ants in this one--biting insects. In the drawers, apparently.

[His finger leaves behind a little black dot; he forgot to use the hand without paint on it. Tutting, he uses the opportunity to scrawl in the room's number.]

[phaseshifter]

[ Ugh, noted. Not that she's going deep enough into the bunker to get into that area, anyway, but she isn't about to say that out loud. ]

These didn't bite. Just ran away. If - if you want to indicate hazards in another colour or something, I have blue nail polish? Or emoji stickers. None that have bugs on them specifically, but...

[ Nothing a poop emoji won't cover, right ]

1

[phaseshifter]

[ Angel doesn't emerge from Rhys' blanket fort until a few minutes after Junpei arrives. Her response isn't as effusive as it might ordinarily be, though - as she dusts herself off, she just kind of. Looks at him with mild surprise.

It's been a long few days, okay. Fuck bunkers. ]

Junpei? I didn't know you were here!

[ Then again, why would she? Who'd trust someone like her with their location when she'll only pass it on to Handsome Jack? Who'd keep her in the loop when she's just a spy a traitor a lying bitch--

Except she isn't any more. She's in Norfinbury. Angel wrinkles her nose, shaking her head to clear out the jumbled thoughts. Seriously, fuck bunkers. ]

I mean - hi.

Night 372

[headjacked]

[ It's Tinker Time with Rhys in one of his elaborate blanket forts, this time built in Room 26. Yes, they're still necessary, even if surveillance has been cut off. It's important to have a mission control.

And it's, y'know, soft and warm.

Rhys has the guts of one of the monitors spread across the ground in what can only be described as organized chaos. He's doing... something with the parts and the handful of quantum chips, piecing together different bits with duct tape and aluminium foil.

Somehow, because this is Rhys we're talking about, he manages to cut his finger while ripping off a new sheet of foil. ]

OW - ! Stupid -- friggen' -

[phaseshifter]

Metal hand with the sharp edges, dude.

[ Fortunately Angel is, as always, on standby with helpful advice. And one of the smaller shirt rags to tie around Rhys' poor boo-boo. It's an invaluable contribution, obviously. And one that doesn't involve too much talking and pretending that things are okay. ]

You're gonna bloody it up. With your blood.

[headjacked]

I never considered aluminum a "sharp edge". I'm not even sure how that happened.

[ He's got his scowly face on. Level II Scowl, at least. Only the tiniest trick of blood stains the cloth; it's a glorified paper cut. Which means it just stings like holy hell.

Rhys rubs the area around the cut. ]

Kind of a waste of fabric, if you ask me.

[phaseshifter]

Same way a papercut happens, I expect. And it's not a waste of fabric if it keeps out any stray mould spores. You never know what clings to our clothes and... stuff.

[ Pissy Rhys, meet Deadeyed Angel. UNSTOPPABLE FORCE, IMMOVABLE OBJECT. ]

You don't want to start oozing glowy sludge. Trust me.

[headjacked]

[ The logic is sound, as is most Angelogic, so he just grunts. If he doesn't acknowledge the win, it's not technically a win.

Rhyslogic is... interesting. ]

Can you pass me the ID drive? It's in my bag.

[phaseshifter]

Yes--

[ She's a hair away from adding sir to that, which is a sure sign that she needs to snap the fuck out of the bunker fog. Jesus. She may never stop shuddering.

Except she does and like, just grabs the drive as requested from the cavern o' crap that is Rhys' bag. Whatever. ]

Anything else?