Characters: EVERY-FUCKING-BODY WHO WANTS TO BE HERE
Location: The bunker
Date: timey-wimey; this is generally for threading stuff during and/or after the major endgame discoveries have been made (444/445), but if you want to do a thread that takes place before all that when everything seems much more hopeless, go ahead; no one's going to stop you
Summary: AND YOU'RE HEEEEEERE IN MY HEART AND MY HEART WILL GO ON AND OOOOOOOOOO-OOO-OOOOON
Warnings: if your character does something terrible tell me so i can edit a warning in here

( Read more... )

*Enclosed is video of a happening as Brian finally finds a use for Miller's Card. There's a short video of him opening the door before it turns to livestreaming of exploration.

As his attempts to get into the Miller's computer are blocked he turns the tablet to face himself.*

Bring the. Key. Gal ax y. Or An drom eda.

*His voice is raspy and horribly monotone. He clearly has no idea how to emotion.

Also the video is crazy staticy. Brian's static + Town Hall's static make it hard to make out in parts, but he focuses on Miller's desk and computer long enough that it can be made out.*

Characters: OTA (regular characters plus anomalies)
Location: Power Plant
Date: Day 440
Summary: Here! In brief: It's time to capture some anomalies in the Norfinbury power plant!
Warnings: Please add to subject lines.

( Yippee-ki-yay! )

[It's just before lockdown ends in the morning that John sends out his message. He knows it's going to invite criticism, ire, possibly screaming at him some more. But people deserve to know what's happening.]

Good morning, everyone. I don't know where everyone is, but I wanted to say thank you for those who've been helping to put up messages around town for the anomalies. We'll be reaching the power plant this morning. We have a good team with us and we've made some preliminary plans about how to trap specific anomalies, as needed, and how to talk to the ones who might be willing to help us. We're keeping things flexible in the event some are there that we haven't planned for or what have you.

I know some of you don't approve of this. I know some of you think I'm a monster for helping to organize this. That's all right. I'm taking responsibility for what happens today. The people who are helping haven't been forced, but I am directing them. Any failure, any lives lost, injuries sustained, those are on me. We'll provide an update at the end of the day when it's done.

Godspeed to everyone in the Bunker. We're counting on you. To everyone else scattered to the winds, hold fast. We'll make it through this. Keep safe and keep warm.

[It's been a long time since the last time he died, and it's just as bad as he remembers. It's not even the sudden waking in a body bag, or the creeping horror of dying, it's the moral implications of what his revival might mean.

He gives himself an hour or two to settle down and try and figure out what his death price is, but nothing seems obvious and that's just unsettling him further. He needs a distraction, so he should probably let people know that he died.]

Uh, so I'm definitely fine and nothing has happened to me lately.

[Wait, what? He pauses, and then tries that again.]

In fact, I'm having the best time of my life, the only thing that would make it better is if all of you have died horrible and painful deaths recently.

[Okay, so that's... something. It has to be his death price, and it's mortifying. He really wants to take it back, but his voice just somehow gets chirpier.]

I hate you all and I hope I offended each and every one of you!

Characters: Anyone in the Bunker
Location: Bunker
Date: Let's go with January...
Summary: Mingling in the Bunker
Warnings: Add to subject line!

( Read more... )

[Rhys is settled down for the night, in the evening hours after lockdown on 432. He's taken off all his extras to let them air out, and sitting in his ripped t-shirt and looking mostly comfortable. He's better at getting comfortable than anyone should by any rights, here.]

So, I am actually staying in the convenience store here in Res 3, because you don't get pushed out anymore? I was going to try and hike to the next building, but the aura was gone and...well, I didn't get shoved out. That's good news, sort of. Saves me a little hiking.

The Bad News is, that's probably because there's been a change to the food. Some of what's here has gone rotten, and I don't think there's as much stuff as there was last time I was here. Food might be starting to run out, along with everything else.

[He looks much less happy about that.]

I'm hoping it's just this store, but I'm not sure. So if anyone else hits any other places around that have food, do a check and see what you think, alright? I'm going to start rationing just in case, though.

[That's all he was really here to say, so the video feed blinks out for a while, pending responses.]

Hello? Hi.

My name is Flynn Carsen and--

And you all know that. Right. Uh. That's what they told me? This is kind of awkward because apparently people here know me? Which of course isn't mortifying at all, talking to a bunch of people who met you before, it's like all the downsides of a party but then ineffably, somehow, it got worse.

Anyway, I, uh, I need help? A lot of... help, with, uh.

Everything?

[Is this thing still recording? Hopefully so. His hands come up in some frantic gestures.]

See, it's kind of like my first time in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Or in weather below 0. Or in a place without a sun. Or with static in the air? And I'm not saying that I'm freaking out but I am kind of freaking out, a-a-and it's freezing and people keep telling me these impossible things and I don't know what to do, I really need to call my mom?

And if this is the psych department, I did not sign up for any studies and I just think that it's highly unethical and I'm going to report you all to the administration. ... Which... apparently doesn't do much? I've been told that? That's another thing I have been told by, by the guy who knows me?

Right. So, can anyone help?

[He almost puts the tablet away but then remembers something! And up it comes again, his eyes wide with alarm.]

Also! I'm not dead?? Some guy said I was and apparently they were going to bury me alive?! But I'm really not, and if you could please tell the morticians or, or, or whoever else puts people in body bags around here that this is all just one huge misunderstanding!

[There's the sound of breathing and boots crunching through snow -- this is one of those feeds created on the move, it would seem. When Stephen speaks, his voice is lighter, easier than it had sounded for a long while before his death. It's like a burden has been lifted from him, but there's something wry in his tone, too.]

You can count me back among the living. Or I can, when I sit down and catch up.

[Haha census humor. The lightness drains from his voice as he turns to more painful and worrying matters.]

I've been catching up on some of what I missed...it looks as though I'm not the only one who's learned first hand how dangerous our counterparts can be. The one that killed me was able to access the bunker; I don't know if someone let him in or if he'd stolen a tablet. I'd found a key card and a microchip I believe might grant access to the remaining locked room there, but they're not among my supplies now. If anyone found them...please. Please let me know. If that thing has them....

Gabriel, Vanitas. I'm sorry I left you, and I hope the fact that your names haven't been posted since mine was means you didn't follow in my footsteps. And Peter? You're an idiot. That goes for both of you.

Characters: Bunker inhabitants! Visiting anomalies? COME SAY HI
Location: The bunker and its immediate surroundings
Date: Uhhh we can just make this the mingle for the ooc month of december? Since it's the holidays and everyone is slow and yeah
Summary: BUNKER MINGLE
Warnings: Add em in subject lines!

( MINGLE ALL THE WAY~ )

[It's Peter, holding up his tablet to his face, and he's outside in the snow, walking.

He's also got a nosebleed.]

This is DJ Star-Lord coming to you from live from Norfinbury!

Anyway, I thought you guys might wanna see this.

[He turns the tablet around to show his anomaly, which is...well. It looked like he was made out of rock and mud, but there's like, all this crap on top of him. He's got tendrils that are hanging onto things--bits of rubble, mostly, and a pair of bath slippers that Peter threw at him to see if he'd catch them. The only thing recognizable about the slug-like creature is its the top part of its head, which looks like Peter's, except that its mouth is large and muddy.

And his anomaly is yelling at him. Mud is spewing everywhere.]

Hey! Give me that, that tablet's mine! You suck!

[And he's yelling back.]

You suck, you creepy-ass trash compactor! And it's mine.

[Peter turns back to the tablet, shrugging.]

He's been following me around but he's actually not that bad company? He's cool for an anomaly version of myself. We've been mostly listening to music and chilling while I've been trying to get over my death price. Which...I'd kinda like to apologize for and I'm really sorry if I said something I shouldn't have?

You were drunk as all get-out, bro! And I'm the real deal! You hear that, Norfinbury? I'm the real DJ Star-Lord!

Shut up!

[A pause.]

I'm not gonna lie, I was super creeped out by him at first, because like...look, it's me, but pancaked? But he hasn't tried to kill me or anything. He says he just wants to like...run stuff over a lot? It's weird. I dunno. So I guess if you're fast enough you can avoid this one.

But has anyone actually tried making friends with their anomaly?

[The feed opens on a view of ceiling tiles; anyone familiar with the hospital might recognize them. Off-screen there's the sound of rustling food wrappers and the crunch of someone chewing on chips and cookies, quite possibly with her mouth open.]

I am alive again. The anomalies -- the anomalies are dangerous. The ones with our friends' faces are dangerous.

[The monotone is muffled as well as hesitant; she's talking with food in her mouth despite the gravity of the topic.]

[In another life, Roland knew better than to apply his political principles to a survival situation; he'd learned that acting as though he were incapable of suffering only served to alienate himself from the others, and failed to keep panic from breaking out. Roland was not the leader the people looked to, here - the United States he'd led was an entirely different nuclear crater than the one they lived in, now. Here, he was just a man.

Unfortunately, the Roland who learned that lesson is now an Anomaly. This Roland hasn't come to terms with such things.

Roland withdraws from his companions and stamps down all of the hopelessness and despair of his situation before lighting up a confident expression and starting up a broadcast. Not a trace of his usual dry and sarcastic self remains, having long been eaten by illness and depression. It was far easier to act 'presidential' than it was to be himself. This was a finely practiced persona that required zero effort on his part. Now, someone had to be the bearer of bad news, and at home, the job usually fell to him. So, here goes, or whatever.]

I have to admit I'm not a big fan of "social media." I'd hoped to meet all of you in person, by now, but it seems that's going to be more difficult than I'd imagined.

So, to those I haven't had the pleasure of meeting, my name is Roland Crane. In my homeworld, I served the people of this country as their President. But I don't address you as one now. I intend to get to know you as your friend. [Or so he'll have you believe.]

...I cannot speak to the experience of the people who have lived in Norfinbury much longer than my mere two months here, but I can say with certainty that these past two weeks have been particularly difficult on me. But each of my travelling companions has been an inspiration, keeping eachother motivated and alive, as all of you no doubt do for yours. I am grateful to have come here. I am truly blessed to have met America, England and Ginger. And I am grateful to have met all of you.

And now after such hardship, it seems all of us have yet another burden to endure. But we're going to get through whatever it is this symptom portends, same as everything else.

[In other words: yes, there seems to be big problem. And if Roland knows about the lack of food, he doesn't mention it, not wanting to incite a panic. Even through such a sinister lie, he smiles:]

I look forward to seeing this through with each and every one of you. Thank you, and may God bless you.

[That last part is spoken out of habit, and came across as disingenous even before he learned the truth of his universe. So yeah, everything is obviously fine. Clearly.]

[Another body bag, another day.

Sherlock has gone through this enough times now that there's only a brief moment of terror and claustrophobia before he overcomes it and wrestles his way out. He mentally checks himself over for changes - nothing obvious - and then does the same physically - also nothing obvious. Annoying, that means it's likely to be something that will manifest without him being aware of the change.

He checks the network and sees that John and Mycroft both revived several days ago. Interesting. He feels a sudden overwhelming urge to share this with the network at large.]

So, it appears that I've taken rather longer to wake up than my compatriots, I suppose that makes some logical sense given the amount of times that I've been revived, it may take longer to repair me. Much like a car that's had to have multiple repairs and now fails its MOT, perhaps that means I won't be revived many more times if I continue to die.

[Hm, that was a longer ramble than he might have preferred. Death price? Possibly.]

Irrelevant, just theorising. On a more practical note, it would be sensible to compile a public list of the current "resident anomalies", their particular attributes, and their ways of attacking, to make it easier for others to avoid them.

Hey, so, uh - has anyone else had any thoughts on how we should deal with the... anomalies? Should we be calling the copies that? It feels kinda. Iunno. Disrepectful. Inappropriate?

[ Angel - who's just outside the bunker in the snow - gives the feed an uncertain little shrug as Rhys pops into view. ]

It is — we, they are what they are, why bother sugarcoating it. Don't think they're gonna be offended.

[ There's mumbling, bitter mumbling, from this peanut gallery. Rhys isn't looking at the camera, he's focused on the dented and lifeless robot in his arms.

There’s conflict in his voice. Quite a bit. ]

I'd be offended, and one of them is me, so. [She gives Rhys and The Robot Corpse Formerly Known As Dumpy an unhappy little look before returning her attention to the tablet.] Um, anyway - I thought it'd be prudent to at least share details of the ones we've seen? And how they act, or what they can do? To avoid further casualties as much as possible.

[ That look stops him arguing the point further, at least. He purses his lips and shakes his head, yet says nothing until she’s finished. ]

Some aren’t intentionally aggressive, like Enoch and... and Angel. Just toxic huggers, or they hold on a little too tight.

[ This is accompanied by a tiny wheeze that prompts another look from Angel. FUSS TSUNAMI INCOMING. ]

Yeah. Um. On that subject - if you've been touched by my-- by the one who look-- by the other me, please let me know as soon as possible? I can fix it. Um... kinda.

[ And now it's Rhys' turn to give Angel a look. Hrrrm. ]



((Bold is Rhys, if that wasn't obvious, and threadjacking is very much encouraged 8V))