MISSION: WAYPOINT SHRIL, PT. I

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: WAYPOINT SHRIL
WHEN: Day :025 - :029
SUMMARY: Welcome to Waypoint Shril, the soon-to-be home to the galaxy's most incredible competition!
WARNINGS: N/A, will update as necessary.

SOMETHING IS WRONG. Strange, how a moment ago everything seemed perfectly fine - as normal as things get on Station 72 - and then the next the entire void shifts by a degree. There's a crackling, anticipatory feel in the air. Dwelled on too long and it might become nauseating, triggering some hindbrain impulse the nervous system under the skin or--

Something is coming.

Something is coming undone.

In the heart of the Station in a small, featureless circular room, The Prince and Cathaway dredge the Station from its mooring. There's a rush of shared adrenaline, then an massive sensation like an inhale. A gulp of breath. Relief floods through the body like something palpable as the massive beehive structure of the Station snaps into real space above the deep space space station known as Waypoint Shril.

( ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬...Please meet us in the hangar. We have your next assignment....▬▬▬. )

Once they've arrived at the hangar, the Hosts will be briefed by Cathaway and Prince on their new objective. They'll be given their mission kits, along with a written brief on their databanks. The usual warnings apply. Try not to kill anyone. Do not get killed yourself. And accomplish your mission. From there, pack yourself onto the transport shuttle and make your way to the Waypoint. --One of you knows how to drive, right?

Once ejected from the Station, you'll find yourself on one of literally thousands of ships. The black space above Waypoint Shril is full to bursting with air traffic from the smallest pod-shaped one being ship to the most gargantuan floating planet cruisers. Some of them rival even the Station which now lurks, a mottled white and grey latticework structure that's no more bizarre to look at than any of its neighbors.

VROOM. A ship shaped like a sword with a naked multi-limbed alien painted in lascivious, technicolor detail along the blade slices directly across the path of the shuttle transport. It blares a proximity alarm and a holographic message full of swearing and threats pops up even as the ship blasts down toward the traffic choked landing platform in the distance. A school of insectoid fighters go swarming after it. In the distance, the flash of ships dropping out of hyperspace through the gate rings gleams like a strobe light and on around the landing platform itself buzz two dozen security vessels desperately trying to keep order.

Welcome to Waypoint Shril. Don't crash into anyone on the way in.

     I. PLATFORM ALFA
When the ship finally docks on Waypoint Shril - after a lot, lot longer than you may have liked -, the scene that greets you is more hectic than even the busiest rush-hour on Concordia. There are simply too many people in too small and too hastily prepared of a space. The platform itself was clearly designed for utility, not for comfort and not for style. The walls- towering sheets of welded metal from a countless number of sources, flecked with old paint and the occasional slash of grafitti - offer nothing in the realm of sound dampening, and the electro-cloth banners that hang from the ceiling, advertising the Aurora Blue Arena! in dozens of different languages do little to help. As a result, the entire platform echoes with thousands of voices trying to talk over each other and the newly enhanced intercom system struggling to be heard over the din as it works to provide simple directions and instructions for the teeming mass of tourists.

In the press of flesh and the constant motion, it’s easy to get swept away from your party. It’s easy to find that the items you just had on you are suddenly missing, expertly palmed away by slippery fingers as you try to push your way towards the series of pneumatic tubes leading to the Waypoint proper. Ship's hydraulics hiss, lights flash, and the smell of greasy stall food spreads out from the edges of the platform. There are a few bright-eyed, clever locals - or what count for locals on Waypoint Shril - who don’t hesitate to reach out and grab your arm, offering to be your guide. Asking if you’re here as a spectator or a participant. Asking if you need information. Company. Everything has a price.

Get your bearings - if you can. It’s going to be a long couple of weeks.

     II. THE MOST FABULOUS PLACE IN THE UNIVERSE (Please Excuse Our Dust!)
Waypoint Shril's main thoroughfares and twisting platforms may have made sense to someone, but now absolutely no one knows how to navigate them as the ABA! has swept through Waypoint, bulldozing and building up anything and everything in its path. Oh, did you like that tentacle sandwich shop you stopped in five minutes ago? Too bad! We decided two minutes ago we're tearing it down to make way for a spa-slash-beer-garden! Stand back please, there are explosives detonating in this area in 3, 2, 1…--!

Everywhere you look, Waypoint Shril is undergoing a dramatic transformation. Maybe there are places on the outskirts, far from the Arena Zone that aren't literally being paved over or built on top of, but they seem to be the exception to the rule. Don't get lost as the neighborhood quite literally changes shape around you!

     III. MEET THE COMPETITION
Between the fabulous prizes and the fabulous fame - every single still-living winner of the previous competitions became household names before they stepped out of the Arena, then went on to live lavish lives of excess where they're paid exorbitant fees just to be seen and heard, known for canoodling and cavorting with the best, the brightest, the most privileged the Galaxy has to offer- it’s no surprise that the ABA! draws competitors like a magnet. And while not everyone advertises their status, plenty do - hoping to exchange the slimmest possibility of their victory for favors or drinks or just plain old attention. They’re loud, they’re visible, and plenty of them are very, very drunk, or whatever counts for drunk for their species.

If you want to size up the competition, now’s the time - in the middle of Blunt Force, with scores of other competitors lined up. The club itself is home to a deep, thrumming beat that vibrates through your chest, the industrial concrete walls covered in splashes of electro-paint that pulses in time with the beat. The floor is dark and smooth, the bar is long and there isn’t a single seat to be found at it, just an endless slab of some ancient black stone that drinks slide back and forth across. Every bartender wears a half of a mask in clear plastic run through with simple circuitry in complex patterns and they’ll keep you hydrated for a modest price. Above the floor on a catwalk composed of corrugated metal and transparasteel there are low couches and cushions in rich fabrics of a hundred different patterns of velvet and neon, two dozen tables, and another small bar that will hand out drinks and powders and oils and smoke. The patrons are as varied as anything else in this place, as hodge-podge. Slender, slick looking people with hunched backs and long necks. Short, broad aliens with four legs and four arms. Something heavily shrouded, the only part of them visible a proboscis. Some are here to dance, some to drink, some to talk and more than a few to fight - maybe for keeps. Hell, you might be one of them.

     IV. WILDCARD
There's plenty to see, do and explore. You've got a few days before the competition kicks off - might as well make the most of it.

---

((OOC NOTES: Welcome to Waypoint Shril! This log covers the arrival on the Waypoint and can be used for anything prior to the start of the Aurora Blue Arena! on Day :029. However, feel free to make your own logs if you choose! You can find a complete mission overview and a place to ask any mission-specific questions over at the OOC post.

Thanks everyone!))

NAVIGATION • SETTING • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[adamance]

[The implication itself is rather ... odd, and though Lexa is always careful to conceal her feelings, it seeps through all the same. Very rarely has she been accused of being honorable by people within the Nest. There are those who accuse her of being insecure (they are wrong) or a tyrant (wrong again) all because they want to try to knock her down a few pegs. They believe her to be selfish, but that part is true.

Which isn't to say that Lexa doesn't have a sense of honor, but she knows her people skew the definition more than most.]

I believe in honor, but only as far as it will take me. [It's an honest answer, even if she doesn't reveal it to be so mentally. She sees no need to give away anything when she says something so honest. Someone can be forthright and ruthless, and she doesn't believe that the two things contradict one another.] I'm a leader. Leaders have to make choices that not everyone is comfortable with. Often enough, they aren't honorable, either.

[That is where her contradictions exist, and where she sees them as an advantage.]

[wille]

[ Honor isn't goodness, in her mind it has little to do with morality and everything to do with dignity. She would bear the burden of completing her father's work to uphold his honor now that she understands the foundation on which it rests, but it doesn't make her good and it sure as hell won't stop her from spilling blood along the way, even that of children, by hook or by crook she would reach the finish line. For her, honor and ruthlessness go hand in hand too.

She turns away from the mirror to offer Lexa an amused smile, turning around to lean back against what passes for a washbasin. ]

I thought so, you being a leader. You sound like you're speaking on behalf of other people sometimes, like you're not just speaking for yourself. Sounds hard.

[ Misato doesn't. She's a commanding officer, a tactician, but those under her don't belong to her. She doesn't speak for them. It's different, she thinks, when one carries the burden of an entire people's dignity on your shoulders. Even one man's honor feels so heavy around her neck. ]

[adamance]

If it were a matter if ease, everyone would be able to do it. Not everyone is able to think broadly enough for their people. [In short, Lexa is and will always be a big picture individual. It's nearly impossible for her to be anything short of that, which is why it's increasingly difficult for her to make personal connections. Being around Bellamy has begun to change that, of course. She's found herself grappling with the desire to make those connections, to have those shortsighted biases, and trying to justify it the entire time.

The thing is, she's barely even aware of the shift, because her common approach to life is through such a big picture focus that she tries to justify the change as if it's natural.]

Thankfully, it isn't easy. There are some who will struggle to lead because they have no choice. And others, like myself, who are born to bend the concept of honor to achieve goals. The important part is what the goal is in the long term.

[wille]

What the goal is in the long term, huh.

[ Slowly, Misato crosses her arms in front of her, a measured, considering smile on her lips tinged with admiration. She knows too much now to ever believe that anything she ever did or asked of someone else was ever for anything but herself. Maybe wisdom is whatever comes after realizing that one's a fool. She has no right, see, to call anyone else a fool.

She straightens up and takes a few steps toward the door, turning to Lexa to see if she will follow. ]

Well, I've only got short-term ones in mind: whittle down the competition best as I can. What comes after that is anybody's guess.

[adamance]

Flexibility has its uses. [And frankly, the long-term goal is meant to be kept in mind for a reason: so that they can adapt and ensure that they accomplish what they have in mind. She had once told Clarke that fretting over the minute details of a plan would be the very thing that would make things worse. Things change on the fly, especially in battle.

Even if battle here is defined by an odd, barely defined competition.]

But knowing why you fight and why you do anything is important. For example, why people live—why they come here. Most don't have a distinct answer for that when I ask. [Her shoulders lift in a shrug. It's really a thing that Lexa likes to pry out of people to ground them, to make them realize that they are here for a reason, even if it's one they can't come to terms with just yet.]