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[hatch log] into the garbage chute, flyboy(s)
CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: The Station + Concordia
WHEN: DAY :43 - :44
SUMMARY: New hosts hatch on the Station; their arrival on Concordia is bumpier and smellier than usual.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary.
YOU WAKE UP and nothing will ever be the same again. A moment ago you were somewhere familiar - or familiar enough; now you're lying in a small faintly hexagonal chamber lit by a gentle white light emanating from the surrounding walls. You can't shake the sensation that you've been asleep for a long, long time.
The sluggishness of coming out of a deep, dreamless sleep persists all the way until you disconnect the tube running from the compartment's rear wall to the base of your neck. Then things get loud. A wave of emotion fills the void. Fear, uncertainty, relief, a sense of purpose or loneliness or anxiety; maybe some of these emotions are yours, but they can't all be. Somewhere, someone else is feeding their thoughts and emotions into your mind. On the plus side, it's easy to follow that digging, familiar sensation to each other. After all, you're part of the same brood. You belong together.
Welcome to Station 72. Sirius and Kavinsky will have one day aboard the Station to acclimate to their new reality before they're whisked away to Concordia to join the rest of the young hosts. Get to know one another, ask some burning questions; in a day's time you'll be boarding a shuttle and going somewhere far, far away.
MEANWHILE IN CONCORDIA, the host's espionage efforts are coming to a head. Preparations for infiltrating Public Security HQ are in full swing, a handful of hosts are planning to get in close with Representative Goram Saffit himself and there's currently a semi-functional android taking up one of the beds of the Bearings apartment block. Honestly, there's more than enough on everyone's plate without piling new hosts on top of it all. But that doesn't stop Nirad from disappearing when he's called to return to the Station. Presumably, this means everyone better get ready to debrief some new arrivals soon...
((OOC Notes: This is the hatch log for all new and recently returning hosts; any threads on the Station should be closed to newly awakened hosts or Station-based NPCs. Any threads on Concordia can be open to both new and old hosts!
If you have questions about the mission specifically, direct them to the most recent calendar post HERE. You can find a more detailed overview of the hatching process HERE; you might also want to take a glance at the MISSION CONCORDIA BRIEFING. For all other questions, please hit up either the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages.))
WHERE: The Station + Concordia
WHEN: DAY :43 - :44
SUMMARY: New hosts hatch on the Station; their arrival on Concordia is bumpier and smellier than usual.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary.
YOU WAKE UP and nothing will ever be the same again. A moment ago you were somewhere familiar - or familiar enough; now you're lying in a small faintly hexagonal chamber lit by a gentle white light emanating from the surrounding walls. You can't shake the sensation that you've been asleep for a long, long time.
The sluggishness of coming out of a deep, dreamless sleep persists all the way until you disconnect the tube running from the compartment's rear wall to the base of your neck. Then things get loud. A wave of emotion fills the void. Fear, uncertainty, relief, a sense of purpose or loneliness or anxiety; maybe some of these emotions are yours, but they can't all be. Somewhere, someone else is feeding their thoughts and emotions into your mind. On the plus side, it's easy to follow that digging, familiar sensation to each other. After all, you're part of the same brood. You belong together.
Welcome to Station 72. Sirius and Kavinsky will have one day aboard the Station to acclimate to their new reality before they're whisked away to Concordia to join the rest of the young hosts. Get to know one another, ask some burning questions; in a day's time you'll be boarding a shuttle and going somewhere far, far away.
MEANWHILE IN CONCORDIA, the host's espionage efforts are coming to a head. Preparations for infiltrating Public Security HQ are in full swing, a handful of hosts are planning to get in close with Representative Goram Saffit himself and there's currently a semi-functional android taking up one of the beds of the Bearings apartment block. Honestly, there's more than enough on everyone's plate without piling new hosts on top of it all. But that doesn't stop Nirad from disappearing when he's called to return to the Station. Presumably, this means everyone better get ready to debrief some new arrivals soon...
ON THE STATION, there's a hum in the air - or the mind, rather. Follow the buzz and it'll lead to the Hangar Deck where a slick brick-shaped black transport is waiting. The source of the mental hum seems to be a young man: Nirad has come to collect you. He'll answer any questions; in fact, he seems happy to talk and length about absolutely anything. The boy's apparently the rambling type with little to no filter between his brain and his mouth. The combination of talking and mental hum can be disorienting. Once safely aboard the transport, the ship’s landing platform descends through the floor of the hangar. It snaps into place in the airlock. For a moment there’s a beat of perfect stillness, a shiver of anticipation. Then the transport is flung through the shaft and ejected into the wild black of space. There’s a nauseating lurch in your belly as it bursts through the delicate shell of the multiverse and snaps into real space above the blue and yellow marble of the planet Opia. Somewhere, thousands of miles below in the city of Concordia, the rest of your brood is waiting for you.
A BUMPY LANDING
The stealth ship slices down toward the planet until it fills the entire viewscreen. "All right, everyone out," Nirad announces, unbuckling his harness and jumping to his feet. Uh. What?
He leads to the port side of the transport ship where there's a small series of circular ports. They're roughly shoulder width. At a touch of a button, the ports open out to a series of escape pods. There's only enough room for one and it looks like you'll be lying on your back the whole trip. "Hop in. I'll launch you and then follow you down in my own. The pod's stealth tech should keep you invisible to the locals until someone comes to find it, but don't forget to scrap the pod when you're out of it. We can't risk someone finding it laying around." A pause. "Sorry, by the way. Usually we'd just land the ship but it's getting kind of obvious."
Hopefully you weren't expecting a nice, easy trip down to the planet because this is dark and joyless. The escape pod has no windows. It launches from the transport ship and rockets downward at the behest of the planet's gravity. Everything shakes. It's desperately cold, then violently hot and then-- something gives. The sound of something whistling. A jerk. The escape pod trembles as the anti-grav jets at the base deploy. It's a last attempt to soften the landing, then the pod drives down into a mountain of debris like a tent stake into muddy earth.
Congratulations, you've landed more or less safely in Concordia's only open air landfill.
SEARCH & RESCUE
It's three in the morning and maybe you're asleep in Bearings or maybe you're burning the midnight oil; either way, Carata is in your mind telling you to get up and get ready. "The new hosts have landed. Let's go pick them up, shall we? If I were were, I'd wear some clothes you don't really care for."
Time to go digging through the city's biggestdumpstertransfer facility!
The escape pods will have to be unearthed and opened from the outside to rescue their inhabitants. Once free, be sure to dismantle pods and scatter them through the piles of debris. Eventually all of this will be recycled, but we don't want anyone finding mysterious alien technology in one piece now do we?
((OOC Notes: This is the hatch log for all new and recently returning hosts; any threads on the Station should be closed to newly awakened hosts or Station-based NPCs. Any threads on Concordia can be open to both new and old hosts!
If you have questions about the mission specifically, direct them to the most recent calendar post HERE. You can find a more detailed overview of the hatching process HERE; you might also want to take a glance at the MISSION CONCORDIA BRIEFING. For all other questions, please hit up either the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages.))
no subject
[As far as mind reading... Shiro isn't trying. Not even a little. He's doing his best to stay mentally focused like Sam told him -- stars, for now -- and in his own head.]
[But that's not to say he isn't going to pitch in here. And... offer up the non-metal hand for introductions.] Traffic. [Hah hah you're not that funny.] I'm Shiro.
no subject
Without anything to soften the blow of him, he can only do so much. But he'd like to get along with his hivemind brethren. He really would.]
Kavinsky.
[He takes the hand, the coolness of the metal good against flesh that went mildly overheated in the enclosed space of the pod before he was freed. He taps the pipe a couple times against his cheek, thoughtful.]
Wanna join my wrecking crew?
no subject
[No, it's not important, and it's shouldered and shoved away behind a hastily erected wall of space. Images of stars swirling. The shielding Sam had taught him.]
Welcome to the weirdest team you'll ever find. Probably. [A short nod, and he steps back, flexing metal fingers.]
It should be easier if we cut it down a few sizes. [As purple light kindles to life across synthetic fingertips.] Might want to duck. In case something gets molten and snaps.
no subject
He presses against the wall of stars, testing to see if it's all real or the glow in the dark kind, easily peeled away.]
Hold on.
[Kavinsky doesn't duck or even stand back. He does, however, make sure to have his sunglasses perched on his ears and nose.]
Okay, now I'm good.
no subject
[Fortunately, everything moves on to destroying the pod. His expression turns skeptical, eyeing those sunglasses.]
[Well, he tried.]
All right then.
[That black-light, pretty much purple and intense, flares along metal fingertips, covering his entire hand. No sooner does it finish than he all but plunges those fingers into the pod. Stabbing, really. Leaving molten metal dripping away in its path.]
no subject
Blow that shit up.
[He cocks a finger gun, watching Shiro with an eager eye. Destruction always gets his pulse pumping, no matter what else has been injected into his veins. He'd been pleased with the instruction to go and wreck the pod after he'd escaped it; no complaints from him.
Sparks fly before metal melts, fizzling out sometimes as close as a half inch from Kavinsky's nose. He doesn't even flinch.]
Where'd you get that!
[He yells it in order to be heard over the man's work.]
no subject
[Meanwhile, he's focusing on his job. Peeling away the severed panels as the heat from his hand turns them into useless scrap. He should be more concerned about those flying sparks, but, as usual, his own safety doesn't quite cross his mind like it should.]
[His shoulders stiffen at the shouted question. Face tightening. The sensation of stars in his head flickering wildly for a moment before he reins it back in. Voice terse and short:]
I don't remember.
[About as close to a lie as he'll get. And even then, it's a half-truth at worst.]
no subject
One panel falls near him and he lines up a swing with his pipe, another clubhouse boy on the green on his parents' dime. He pulls back, hits the pipe solidly and the shudder of the impact travels up the pipe through his arms, but the panel skids at a good speed off toward another pile of junk.]
Too bad. I'd like to get one of those. Looks sick.
no subject
[He doesn't mean it to come out as harshly as it does. Punctuated by another shove of his fingers through the pod's hull. A little too viciously. He wants to say he can't help it, but, honestly, it's better to take it out on an inanimate object.]
[Why would anyone want something like this? Want to wake up with part of you replaced? Changed without your knowing it.]
There's nothing good about it.
[Unless you count punching through ship hulls, which, admittedly, is useful...]
no subject
Is this a do as I do, not what I say thing, man? Your argument's weak when you're doing all that.
[Sick. The crunch and bite. The way the pod is so simply dismantled.]
no subject
[There is, for all his starry walls and careful control, venom in that one word. Bitterness and salt. Of course he hadn't chosen it. What part of his life has been in his control, lately?]
[What part did he get to decide on?]
It was done to me -- I don't know how or when.
[He pauses in ripping apart a panel. Regarding tight, glowing fingers.] Or why.
no subject
Who cares?
[Of all the things to fixate on, cyborg's picked the most alarmingly cool thing to be upset by.]
It's yours now.
no subject
[It will never be. Not unless it can be removed, and a real prosthetic put in place. That denial is firm, unyielding.]
Let's just focus on getting this job done, all right?
no subject
My bad. Go ahead.
no subject
[Because the city's hand-iest welder is going back to work. Ducking his head and putting all his attention into what he's doing, instead of the previous conversation.]