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Entry tags:
- *mission log,
- addison parker [original],
- angel [borderlands],
- aoba seragaki [dramatical murder],
- bellamy blake [the 100],
- clint barton [mcu],
- ilde vilmaine [original],
- kylo ren [star wars],
- lexa [the 100],
- nathaniel horn [original],
- nirad,
- rhys [borderlands],
- sam alexander [marvel 616],
- sam wilson [mcu],
- steve rogers [mcu],
- the darkling [grisha trilogy]
EMPTY CHAIRS AT EMPTY TABLES
CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: Concordia - VEN DIAGRAMS HQ + BOUT IT OUT PARLOR + BEARINGS APARTMENT BLOCK
WHEN: Late Day :022 + Early Day :023
SUMMARY: The results of all your hard work - for better or worse. One win, one draw, one loss. Anakin Skywalker bites the big one.
WARNINGS: Violence, non-graphic character death.
IT’S BEEN A LONG DAY. Unfortunately, that’s not about to change any time soon. In the late hours of the evening, two things are happening: the final round of the Bout It Out expose between Kun-Kun and The Darkling is spooling up; meanwhile, the infiltration team at Ven Diagrams is working to retrieve information on H+H1 from the company’s security drive. Unfortunately, neither is going to reach the natural conclusion.
At the REGAL STREET GAMING PARLOR, emotions are running high. After a long day of simulation violence and the reveal of Kun-Kun’s new automaton fighting avatar, the crowd has been stoked to a few pitch. The music’s loud but the crowd is louder: cheering and booing, shouting for every landed or evaded strike. There’s an electric pulse of excitement in the air-- and then there’s a very literal one as an electromagnetic pulse rocks the Regal Street Parlor. The Bout It Out ring shorts and the entire parlor is pitched into total, window-less darkness. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for the crowd’s excitement to melt into panic. Pushing, shoving, shouting - a piercing shriek as one of Kun-Kun’s representatives is stabbed. The nearby hosts (Lexa, Sam Alexander, and anyone in their faux attachment) should be able to help Kun-Kun and his reps to safety, but the crush of the crowd tangles up everyone else. When a rudimentary bomb goes off in the center of the parlor, it catches plenty of people in the crossfire.
There’s a white hot flash. A pulse of heat. A sizzle of agony. It’s a pain that guts, that persists long after the flash of the bomb and extends all the way to the infiltration team at Ven Diagrams. It’s like a limb badly severed. Anakin Skywalker is killed by the blast and every host knows it before they’re aware of anything else.
Unluckily for the infiltration team, they won’t have much time to recover. News of the bombing hits Extraspace in a matter of seconds, which triggers Ven Diagrams - paranoid from the recent attack on their own properties - to lock down their headquarters. All systems are tightened and security clamps down before the infiltration team can access the private servers. If you’re somewhere you’re not supposed to be, now’s the time to get the hell out of dodge.
Retreat, regroup. Upon returning to the Bearings apartment block, the hosts will find that two of their previously comatose friends have woken up: Hux and Aoba Seragaki will probably need to be briefed on the current situation.
((OOC NOTES: Here it is, your wrapup log for the event! You may have noticed that the Hosts didn’t succeed at the Ven Diagrams infiltration. We thought this was a better way than asking everyone to handwave a huge amount of plot or simply having the NPCs get the evidence. Don’t worry though - there will be other mysteries to unravel soon. Very soon, in fact.
There will be an NPC top-level for the escape with Kun-Kun, but otherwise you’re free to make your own top levels! If you have any questions please feel free to ask them in the event OOC post.
Thanks everyone!))
WHERE: Concordia - VEN DIAGRAMS HQ + BOUT IT OUT PARLOR + BEARINGS APARTMENT BLOCK
WHEN: Late Day :022 + Early Day :023
SUMMARY: The results of all your hard work - for better or worse. One win, one draw, one loss. Anakin Skywalker bites the big one.
WARNINGS: Violence, non-graphic character death.
IT’S BEEN A LONG DAY. Unfortunately, that’s not about to change any time soon. In the late hours of the evening, two things are happening: the final round of the Bout It Out expose between Kun-Kun and The Darkling is spooling up; meanwhile, the infiltration team at Ven Diagrams is working to retrieve information on H+H1 from the company’s security drive. Unfortunately, neither is going to reach the natural conclusion.
At the REGAL STREET GAMING PARLOR, emotions are running high. After a long day of simulation violence and the reveal of Kun-Kun’s new automaton fighting avatar, the crowd has been stoked to a few pitch. The music’s loud but the crowd is louder: cheering and booing, shouting for every landed or evaded strike. There’s an electric pulse of excitement in the air-- and then there’s a very literal one as an electromagnetic pulse rocks the Regal Street Parlor. The Bout It Out ring shorts and the entire parlor is pitched into total, window-less darkness. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for the crowd’s excitement to melt into panic. Pushing, shoving, shouting - a piercing shriek as one of Kun-Kun’s representatives is stabbed. The nearby hosts (Lexa, Sam Alexander, and anyone in their faux attachment) should be able to help Kun-Kun and his reps to safety, but the crush of the crowd tangles up everyone else. When a rudimentary bomb goes off in the center of the parlor, it catches plenty of people in the crossfire.
There’s a white hot flash. A pulse of heat. A sizzle of agony. It’s a pain that guts, that persists long after the flash of the bomb and extends all the way to the infiltration team at Ven Diagrams. It’s like a limb badly severed. Anakin Skywalker is killed by the blast and every host knows it before they’re aware of anything else.
Unluckily for the infiltration team, they won’t have much time to recover. News of the bombing hits Extraspace in a matter of seconds, which triggers Ven Diagrams - paranoid from the recent attack on their own properties - to lock down their headquarters. All systems are tightened and security clamps down before the infiltration team can access the private servers. If you’re somewhere you’re not supposed to be, now’s the time to get the hell out of dodge.
Retreat, regroup. Upon returning to the Bearings apartment block, the hosts will find that two of their previously comatose friends have woken up: Hux and Aoba Seragaki will probably need to be briefed on the current situation.
I. THE ROOM WHERE IT HAPPENS
In the Regal Street Gaming Parlor, a pulse flashes. Electronics sizzle. A fight reaching rhythm is shattered and darkness consumes the parlor in its entirety. There’s something like a collective inhale - and then the panic sets in. Screaming. Pushing. Elbows in the dark and a wave of bodies forcing their way toward wherever they think the exit is. Parlors like this one are supposed to be shielded from this kind of problem, but today that doesn’t matter. In just a few short moments of panic, a bomb - basic compared to the one that blew out the Ven Diagram warehouse only days ago - goes off.
There’s a buzz. An electrical hiss. In the wake of the explosion - in the wake of the agony of Anakin’s death -, the parlor’s fire systems go off flooding the upper and lower levels, the spectator balconies with flame retardant powder and coolant. The emergency lighting kicks on, throwing the carnage into stark fluorescent light. The probable intended victim has escaped, along with his entourage, but there are plenty of wounded - groans and weeping permeate the chemical stale air. In addition to Anakin, three people have been killed and two androids have been rendered into scrap by the explosion. Countless others could use help; maybe even a few other hosts have been wounded by the blast.
II. MEANWHILE...
If you’re part of the infiltration team, you’ve officially overstayed your welcome. Security tightens to a chokehold; if you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be, it’s time to leave. An alarm blares through the development laboratories. The building is evacuated and then sealed throughout. The powerlifts cease operation. All networked systems go offline.
III. FROM THE JAWS OF DEFEAT
Back at the parlor, the evacuation continues. The parlor is half-collapsed, there are injured to tend to and local authorities to deal with. In a matter of minutes, the the parlor is swarmed by public security and medical personnel. If you’re able bodied, you’re welcome to assist with rescue efforts - or try to find a lead on who could’ve been responsible for this. Some evidence, some sign - anything to make this worth it. During this time those with Kun Adetokunbo will have the chance to make their case.
It’s a long, protracted clean up and triage; it’s absolutely possible that some of the infiltration team members might make it to the site of the explosion to assist or care for their friends.
IV. WE TEND OUR WOUNDED, WE COUNT OUR DEAD
In the early hours of the morning on Day 023, the hosts limp back to Bearings. Maybe it should be achingly quiet, but it’s not - there’s a murmur of activity in the mental air as Hux and Aoba muddle out of their way from out of their comas. From here, it’s up to to the hosts to recover, to discuss how they want to proceed, and come up with a way to recover from this setback - and from Anakin’s death.
((OOC NOTES: Here it is, your wrapup log for the event! You may have noticed that the Hosts didn’t succeed at the Ven Diagrams infiltration. We thought this was a better way than asking everyone to handwave a huge amount of plot or simply having the NPCs get the evidence. Don’t worry though - there will be other mysteries to unravel soon. Very soon, in fact.
There will be an NPC top-level for the escape with Kun-Kun, but otherwise you’re free to make your own top levels! If you have any questions please feel free to ask them in the event OOC post.
Thanks everyone!))
no subject
He's either in Ren's way, or he's not. ]
You start lashing out here and there's no going back. [ His anger isn't like Ren's. It's a furnace heat, fuel burning behind a grate - flaring deep red in Ren's presence as it does, but contained within thick, dark iron. ] You put us in danger, that makes you the enemy. And I'm not moving.
[ His temples are throbbing so hard he thinks his nose might start bleeding. He's well aware how toothless the threat must seem. If he could cut the threads that bind them, he'd do it. Let whatever happens after that happen: if Ren puts him down, he'll keep getting up until someone else comes to stop him. Steve doesn't believe he's the only one that would stand up to him, he just happens to be the one the first people to get here.
The Darkling is still somewhere close. Ilde too, locked in her fear. Some of the others he can feel nearby, but they're farther, so it's the Darkling he reaches for with a static touch, warning. ]
no subject
Steve reaches out to him, as he turns his back on one of the more violent-hearted hosts. The one he's just shared his own depths with, willingly and willfully. The brush of Steve's mind conveys to him just enough - he's asking for something, assistance maybe. Ren has permitted him to walk away from it, and he hadn't really planned on returning to the scene of his small, wicked crime when there are others to attend to. And besides, Ren will do such a good job baring his teeth and striking fear into hearts.
He doesn't ignore the contact, though. He reaches back, the cold brush of the void snapped across Steve's warmth. ]
( I don't believe it wise to repress him. He seems to have had quite enough of that. )
[ And there, underneath it. The thread of power he's unwraveled and passed on to Steve's broodmember -- ]
no subject
'The enemy'. [Kylo Ren echoes, lip curling back to flash the edges of his teeth. One thing he's learned over the years is that there's a satisfying simplicity in titles like that. Jedi Killer, sith, monster— better to play the part of an antagonist than to fall prey to his yearnings, his own individual needs. Defined by the narrowed parameters of those words he's free to act without thought. Which is, coincidentally, all he craves right now.
And like a repeat of Starkiller Base, with the odds so stacked in his favor (he could break Steve Rogers in an instant: brittle bones and fragile organs, the Force would cripple that brightness with little more than a few curled fingers) Ren succumbs to the sadistic itch burning beneath his skin, chin lowered, hands at his sides as he stalks closer. Closer. Electricity flickers in the darkness from the rescue crews nearby, flipped fuses hissing, popping. It takes that split-second for Ren to rush forward, broad palm outstretched and angling for an eager grip across the underside of Steve's chin, hissing:] I'm surprised it took you so long to realize it.
no subject
He trips over the thread. Takes a half second to figure out what he's looking at, the bulk of his attention still on Ren - now this line of thrumming power that now leads back to him. Steve's blood turns cold, his attention diverted a second time not back Ren's words, but the burst of electrical noise to his left. He's still holding a thin tether to the Darkling, his confusion and betrayal reverberating through it in waves of heated accusation -
A hand grasps his throat, his eyes widening and his thoughts struggling to re-route to this more immediate threat. A metal plated hand reaches for Ren's wrist, clamping down in a vice grip that threatens to turn bone-breaking, his single advantage at close range His gaze hardens in defiance. ]
( LET GO )
[ His voice is amplified in a thundering boom, and behind it is a cacophony of brass sounds looped over and over and over again, super imposed on top of each other ten times over so that there's no longer any recognizable tune, the whole beast set to eleven.
It's not the grip on his throat he's trying to disrupt, it's the thread that the Darkling is feeding to Ren. ]
no subject
( It's cruelty and it's madness. )
Let him ( react / hunt / be true ), he presses what little advantage he has. The bond between the brood is deeper than that of the connection between the whole of the nest, and given time, Steve will outmaneuver whatever connection has begun to fester between he and Ren. He'll outrank, and that drives the Darkling to resist the dissonance that sparks, heavy and painful between the two of them. If it's himself, versus Rogers versus Ren, however - two can play at this mental battle. He's not a child to be dismissed, and he lashes out in response. Dark waters, chilly airs, the piercing snap of ice underfoot as he reaches out with his mind and wills Steve and his NOISE to drown - in image, in memory. ( Biting winter, the faint sob of a girl, water sloshing heavily in lungs, aspirating on it - gagging on it -- ) ]
( You ! Leave it BE. )
no subject
He wants it to stop. He needs it to stop.
His held arm twists, yanking itself violently forward to compound the blow as Ren throws his weight into the downward swing of his opposite fist - the back of his knuckles cutting through the air in search of Steve's face, his slim jawline, the arch of his nose. Anything within reach. He knows it'll hurt them both; he doesn't care.
No more. No more. No more—]
no subject
(no time to wonder why the Darkling is doing any of this)
It's wrong: the Darkling's cold thoughts, far from anything rational, the vice on Ren's wrist/his own wrist. Steve's vision swims, cold air burning his lungs, cold water choking them to the discordant music playing around them. There's no way to tell if Ren or the girl's screams are coming from his head or not.
His arms raise too slow, weighed down by the metal casing and the blow to his head during the blast. A fist connects with his nose and the world turns hot, bright white. Teeth rattle and he tastes blood (not in his mind), tastes something like meat turned wrong (definitely in his mind). He staggers backwards, the force of his mental projection subdued, but he's still on his toes by the skin of his teeth, trying to regain that footing. ]
no subject
Metal, resolute, grounded by belief or hope or the glory of entirely human ideals, whatever it is that manages to somehow keep Steve on his feet hardly matters. Ren's masked himself in the ashes of countless self-made heroes, and here, now, with Roger's efficiency and limitations measured, he intends to turn the blade. Presses the advantage of kinetic energy by lurching forward— a flurry of weighted punches spat out in an instant, the fearless brutality of someone that expects, without a shadow of a doubt, that he will win.]
no subject
What a mess this has become. Words alone cannot resolve the feedback loop he's been caught in, the cycle of violence and anger-cum-grief.
The water recedes, the cries of the girl-long-dead are stifled. Leave it, he wills again - emotion and image flickering across his and Steve's connection, plucking at the knot with dark fingers, unwraveling it as Ren lashes out. As Ren's fists, real and physical, connects - Steve staggers - and the Darkling pulls back violently, mentally and physically. Snaps off the connection and leaves the remnants discarded between them. A measure of dissatisfaction and disappointment hovering, ghost-like, in his wake. ]
no subject
In the near distance he feels the Darkling pull their connection apart. The empty space left behind is filled again with Ren's unbridled rage, pouring through his veins like a second wind. ]
( That the best you got? )
[ He's not sure he can work his jaw around the words. ]
/barges in here like the koolaid man
The door to the parlor is barely an obstacle as he bursts in, bending it at the hinges. His gait stutters for just an instant--- your name is James Buchanan Barnes--- before he's on the nearest opponent.
The Soldier is a freight train cut loose and howling down a mountain. In the space of a heartbeat, he's joined the fray with a animalistic cry of pure fury, swinging out in an attempt to hit Ren with his metal arm, fingers curled into a fist like a sledgehammer.]
ohh yeah
[That, for all his premonitions, Ren did not see coming.
Bucky barrels into him with a shattering force, cutting off whatever parting words Kylo Ren had aimed to gift his broodmate at the root, twisting it instead into a choked-out cry as metal contours find their mark. His left shoulder buckles under impact, footing stumbling when he drags himself away, no less furious for it. Eyes wild, features contorted into a primal snarl beneath sweat and blood. How dare he. How -dare- he.
Another clipped inhale, the only luxury Ren affords himself before rushing back in (left arm held tight against his side) swinging lividly, wildly with his right fist— searching for the span of Bucky's ribs with every strike. Attempting against reason to carve a figurative line in the sand between himself and his unanticipated adversary.]
oooohohohoho
he'd watched it, as much as he could, through Steve's eyes, enough to see Ren brewing into a violent storm, and to feel it when steve pieces together the Darkling's involvement. how he'd fed it. ren and steve were never on good terms, but this outsider had pushed until they were near losing one more piece of their fraying web. maybe Ren's tantrum would've happened either way, maybe he would've still attacked steve, but come so close to killing him? sam has every intention of stay the frak away from my family talk happening, if not drop kicking the man right off the Bearings balcony, but that's a secondary concern. right now, it's ren. it's making sure this brood doesn't fracture any further than it already has.
bursting into the arena, now mostly emptied of the others, sam's eyes move to steve first, his body prone on the floor. skidding over, sam's mind reaches for him, trying to find a whisper of life in him, and feels for a pulse, though he's fairly sure they'd all feel it if he'd died. it's there, and while that doesn't save him from concussion or brain damage, it's enough that ren, the still raging earthquake that he is, becomes the more immediate priority. with barnes in the equation, savage and brutal with his attacks, sam knows it's only a matter of time before the Force comes into play here, and then the both of them as screwed, as is anyone else left in this building. reasoning with him is out of the question, so he comes to the one unfortunate conclusion. ]
( Block us out, get out of the building. ) [ Sam sends out to every Nestmate in the building, save for Ren, though he's half convinced he wouldn't even be heard. Ren occupied with Barnes, Sam comes up to his back, arms reaching around to pin his to his sides, and the one hand snaps out to grip Bucky's metal wrist, just as it starts to pull back from a punch. ] Sorry, I need this.
[ it starts immediately, like the roof of the building, the sky above, and the floor below all crack open at once, shattering easy as delicate glass, letting the entirety of the universe around them rush in, cold and dark and suffocating, and at the same time, full to the point it's incomprehensible. The arm in his hand twists, metal moving by itself, and detaches from the hub at Bucky's shoulder, freeing him from the immediate weight of this feeling. The other hand comes up to slap over Ren's eyes, and it all floods in.
the glimpses of fading, hazed memories of this that Kylo Ren had dug through when the two of them first met are nothing in comparison to the real weight of it. a grain of sand on a beach. Immense beyond comprehension, all the secrets of this world and the next and the next, of time unending, of the billions of souls around them slamming through what weak fortitude simple, sentient minds have in comparison. Sam's own mind, even with the years it's withstood and the capacity Cylon nature allows it, bends, gives way in what's more welcoming than anything else, and shatters, brittle in the face of the surge of knowledge and awareness. the chaos of creation so pure, ancient and true that no order could tame it, and at the same time, the kind of absolution one finds in nirvana, in the peace of sleep or death, in the warm touch that's felt the moment you discover love. it's no longer sam pulling ren into it, but the whole of what's taken sam's mind, and the blinding glow of divinity, intelligent design that can't quite be seen in perfect focus, at the edges of it all - a wormhole opened in too small a space. it reaches and drags him down, the gravity of a blackhole, pulling all matter around it to a center where it all collides and melds together - time and space a fused mess of a layered abstraction. anyone still connected to kylo ren's mind right now is likely to get sucked in with it, and broken under the destructive vortex of it. so, darkling, if you're still there, better get gone before your eyes start bleeding or something.
all the while, sam's prophetic trance has kicked into gear, and he's mindlessly murmuring the pieces and slivers of understanding that pass through his splintered consciousness, eyes vacant. ]
A push, a shove, duality like a pendulum, must always swing back. Mother's fear like an anchor around a child's waist, radiant darkness and slow disaster, feeding and festering. A false idol in helm and cowl, end of line. [ touch always makes this that much worse, that much more personal, and somewhere, in whatever plane sam's consciousness still exists on, waiting to return when the flood clears, he's hoping Ren's either passed out or too bombarded to hear him. because something brushes, now. the center of it. the aching wound, old and infected and gone so long needing treatment that it may need to be amputated all together. anakin skywalker. darth vadar. ] He, too, returned from the fall. Mangled and ruined. Corruption feeds on minds, not blood, Ben.
[ a pause, sam's face lifted up, like he sees so far beyond the ceiling above him, and slowly, his head tilts, until eyes that are lost in the kaleidoscope of creation fall directly onto the Darkling, the last sentence spoken loud enough to be overheard. ]
The Shadow is next.
[ with that, he's out, crumpling to the floor and likely taking Kylo Ren with him. ]
no subject
Let him be a symbol again. Let him be unfeeling, uncaring, as cold and dead as his forefathers in spite of his own beating heart. He reaches for Snoke, for Cathaway, for Ilde, Hux or the Darkling, chokes out a strangled noise that never clears the base of his throat like something drowning; he can't feel them beyond the barrier of Sam's inhuman mind.
Was this what it felt like?
Hand outstretched, searching for a glimpse of the child he'd left behind, only to know the heat of a saber slipped cruelly between his ribs— to find the unblinking stare of someone else entirely. He can feel it. All of it. Parallels played out in pale seconds. Knees giving in, eyes rolling back as they drift shut, breathing gone shallow and slack. A mercy.]
everyone writes a novel, MEANWHILE .............
He's staring into the sun, and then the lights go out. ]
no subject
One moment he's pulling his fist back to unleash another punch and in the next, the floor's falling out from under his feet. Colorful tile splinters into a kaleidoscope that sucks him into the vortex. His fractured mind follows suit, dissolving into the maelstrom. The fabric of the universe pushes in through the vacuum, throwing every piece of James Buchanan Barnes into the wild heat of the jet engine. The programming fares little better where its roots dig deep into the fissures of his mind, burning the stems down to the nubs.
He is everything and nothing, a million stars and yet one speck of dust. He can see into the breaks of the thread of reality, but not recognize his blood-specked hand.
The supernova flashes and then disappears, leaving nothing but a gaping, singed, sucking hole behind. And silence. Utter painful silence as tremors sneak up his spine.
Who... where...?
The shakes creep up to his shoulders--- are those his shoulders? Or do they belong to someone else? Is this him? Who is he? Why can't he know? Why can't he remember?
His eyes slake across the floor where he kneels, at the macabre party of bodies twisted like brambles around him. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
His hand jitters at his side and he wasn't aware he had one. He raises it to find the rusty remains of someone spackled there.
Did he---? Did he do this?
Who is he?
Who are they?]
no subject
it's like a priority list in his head, an uncharacteristically cylon thing of him, one of the least cylon-like of the five of them, the way he handles the next few minutes.
first: ren. he'd just blasted him with something that makes any walking super computer turn into a rambling, incoherent mess. sitting up sharping, with the man slumped against him and a wetness he already recognizes for what it is against his palm, sam focuses, searching the caverns of his mind, for any signal. a mental pulse. brain activity enough to call undamaged. a relieved sigh shudders out of him once it's found, and he carefully sets him aside, looking sharply over injuries for anything pressingly lethal. sam's aware of barnes not far away, and in a state far from alright, but he isn't the immediate concern. he's at Four on the list.
second: steve. half stumbling, he runs over to where he'd collapsed, careful in turning him over and checking for vitals again. the same routine for brain activity, and looking over the wounds on his face. nothing good, probably a good amount of broken bone, and stitches are in his future, but nothing fatal. no immediate danger.
third: ilde. he'd felt her close, knew she was connected, had willed her to shut off before he'd crack ren's mind open along with his, but he isn't sure she was able. it's easy to find her through the brood link, with the tremor of panic stemming from her, and the distinct sense of ilde that's simply come to be fact in his mind there.
fourth: bucky. he's sorry to have left you on your own to stew in that mess that you're head's in, buddy, but your shattered mind, at least, won't kill you immediately. sam will take time to be mildly disturbed at how easily he was able to coldly process that later, but right now, he has to be the stable one for Barnes. snatching up the arm that he'd taken off bucky earlier, he skids back to a halt to kneel next to the broken soldier, pausing a moment to breathe in front of him, certain Bucky's somewhere far away right now. ]
Hey, you with me, buddy? I know you're confused right now, but it's over, okay? [ Gods, Sam can feel the panic rolling off his mind, and he's trying his best to sink into that perfect calm he's able to harness now and again. Harder, right now, with so much urgency, but it helps that he was just inside that core of nirvana, within his Hybrid mind. Easy to call back the memory of it. ] Three things you need to know - you didn't do this. You helped stop this before it got much worse, you did good. Second, your name is Bucky. Third, I'm a friend, and you're gonna be alright, I just need you to trust me for a little while.
[ Which is asking a lot. Bucky didn't really trust him much to begin with, but Steve's out cold, and Sam can't carry all of them out of this place by himself. He needs Bucky to be present right now. The metal arm is held out between them, low, so Barnes could take it if he wanted to, as Sam explains. ]
You remember this? I helped you get it working a week or so back, you asked me to. I'm just gonna help you get it back on, so you're all in one piece. [ Carefully, cautiously, Sam telegraphs his movements, with hands in Bucky's vision, so he can watch him reach to touch his shoulder, lightly, and start to lock the arm back into place. it's an easy mechanism, snaps right in - easy to put on and easy to take off, like Barnes had wanted. here's hoping he doesn't get strangled for it, but at least he's Cylon, so he's likely to survive is alright. ish. ]
no subject
All the while, the survivor busily checks on the others, busily buzzing about them as The Soldier tries to scoop up his brains. He tunes out the movement, panic washing the pieces of himself farther and farther away. When the survivor speaks, the Soldier doesn't register the sound as a person talking to him, doesn't recognize his proximity as anything directed at him.
Until a hand touches his shoulder. His body--- the programming--- reacts and his right fist surges out, fingers outstretched as they attempt to curl about the survivor's throat.]
no subject
it might be easier to just knock barnes out and carry him home, but again - steve, ren and anakin all need to be carried out and he can't take all of them. instead, he's shouting across the mental link to him, since speaking out loud doesn't seem to be registering with him at all. ]
( Steve Rogers, your friend, is hurt and likely getting worse. You need to snap the frak out of it and help me get him to safety, or he's gonna be in a lot of trouble. All of us are. )
no subject