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Entry tags:
TDM 001
TEST DRIVE MEME 001 ❀
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential character nudity, violence, trypophobia (images) as well as light mentions of gore.
Please note: FOR THE FIRST 24 HOURS AFTER 'HATCHING', CHARACTERS WILL FEEL WEAK AND ANY POWERS THEY HAVE WILL NOT WORK.
Test drive meme threads can be considered game canon for players who are later accepted and wish to keep their CR. The rescue mission prompt will be a TDM-exclusive, but the other prompts that you see here will also appear on our first game log. There will, of course, be more going on that week.
Please reserve questions about consequences for altering or meaningfully investigating the setting for the first log of the game, where we will have a Mod Questions thread at the top of the log. On this test drive meme, please reserve this thread for clarification and setting questions.
On the first day of reserves (May 10th), only players who participate in the TDM will be allowed to reserve. You must link an AC-length thread from the TDM for early access. Starting on the 11th, any prospective player may submit a reserve. Our hope is that this will avoid overwhelming our reserves.
Congrats, you've woken up in an egg. I'm sure this is exactly how you wanted to spend your Saturday, right? There's no time to get curious and check out the other egg sacs. By the time you've fought your way out of the membranous sac, spilled electric blue goop everywhere, wiped it out of your eyes and sundry other orifices to get your bearings, you have a spear (or a gun) leveled at your face, throat, or other vital organs. Even if you might be inclined to fight, you can barely lift your arms to protest being grabbed and dragged off. Before you can even get a word in edgewise, you've been thrown into a holding cell.
Characters will not have a chance to retrieve their items at the time of the first hatching, and may not even know there is anything left in the remaining eggs.
The holding cell stinks of something sour and acidic, like rotted citrus, but you are not alone. Several other detainees sit in similar squalid confusion, dressed strangely and equally gooey. Time to make nice, ask questions... figure out what the hell is going on, and maybe do something about all that slime?
Over the next few days, a few things become clear. Despite the alien greeting, your captors speak a language that you understand, and the unpleasant circumstances are revealed to be a matter of necessity, not choice. Supplies are low, but they ensure that the new arrivals' time imprisoned is as painless as can be — they offer hot communal showers of less than three minutes, some strange starchy meal-replacement, and medical treatment to those in need. You might strike up a conversation with your new best friend in the shower over a low soap dispenser or when you realize you might need to share towels.
The cost of these luxuries comes in the form of touch-and-go interrogation by the security officers keeping tabs on the cells and supervising the shower time.
A few notes:
Please note: FOR THE FIRST 24 HOURS AFTER 'HATCHING', CHARACTERS WILL FEEL WEAK AND ANY POWERS THEY HAVE WILL NOT WORK.
Test drive meme threads can be considered game canon for players who are later accepted and wish to keep their CR. The rescue mission prompt will be a TDM-exclusive, but the other prompts that you see here will also appear on our first game log. There will, of course, be more going on that week.
Please reserve questions about consequences for altering or meaningfully investigating the setting for the first log of the game, where we will have a Mod Questions thread at the top of the log. On this test drive meme, please reserve this thread for clarification and setting questions.
On the first day of reserves (May 10th), only players who participate in the TDM will be allowed to reserve. You must link an AC-length thread from the TDM for early access. Starting on the 11th, any prospective player may submit a reserve. Our hope is that this will avoid overwhelming our reserves.
❀ HATCHING
Congrats, you've woken up in an egg. I'm sure this is exactly how you wanted to spend your Saturday, right? There's no time to get curious and check out the other egg sacs. By the time you've fought your way out of the membranous sac, spilled electric blue goop everywhere, wiped it out of your eyes and sundry other orifices to get your bearings, you have a spear (or a gun) leveled at your face, throat, or other vital organs. Even if you might be inclined to fight, you can barely lift your arms to protest being grabbed and dragged off. Before you can even get a word in edgewise, you've been thrown into a holding cell.
Characters will not have a chance to retrieve their items at the time of the first hatching, and may not even know there is anything left in the remaining eggs.
The holding cell stinks of something sour and acidic, like rotted citrus, but you are not alone. Several other detainees sit in similar squalid confusion, dressed strangely and equally gooey. Time to make nice, ask questions... figure out what the hell is going on, and maybe do something about all that slime?
Over the next few days, a few things become clear. Despite the alien greeting, your captors speak a language that you understand, and the unpleasant circumstances are revealed to be a matter of necessity, not choice. Supplies are low, but they ensure that the new arrivals' time imprisoned is as painless as can be — they offer hot communal showers of less than three minutes, some strange starchy meal-replacement, and medical treatment to those in need. You might strike up a conversation with your new best friend in the shower over a low soap dispenser or when you realize you might need to share towels.
The cost of these luxuries comes in the form of touch-and-go interrogation by the security officers keeping tabs on the cells and supervising the shower time.
A few notes:
☆ Your character may get pulled away for interrogation at some point. No torture, no drugs; just questioning.
☆ Locals will be stopping by outside the freestanding holding cells to ogle or ask questions. Are you really going to be mean to that little kid staring at you with wide eyes?
☆ Characters will be let out for bio breaks. No one has to pee in a bucket, that's just inhumane!
☆ Attempts to escape will probably get you tasered. The mods will not facilitate escape-plots/etc on test drive memes. However: if you app and are accepted you are more than welcome to chat with us about the possibility of having escaped or attempted it.
☆ Locals will be stopping by outside the freestanding holding cells to ogle or ask questions. Are you really going to be mean to that little kid staring at you with wide eyes?
☆ Characters will be let out for bio breaks. No one has to pee in a bucket, that's just inhumane!
☆ Attempts to escape will probably get you tasered. The mods will not facilitate escape-plots/etc on test drive memes. However: if you app and are accepted you are more than welcome to chat with us about the possibility of having escaped or attempted it.
❀ EXPLORE THE BASECAMP
On the heels of a little benign interrogation, a medical inspection, and a stern talking to by Captain Childe, the survivors at Basecamp Leviathan determine one thing: you don't appear to be an active threat.
Released from the detention center after three days, you are given the run-down by the locals — you're on a planet called Ethyraia, and the people around you are survivors of the catastrophic crash of the UCSS Adamant several years prior. You, in fact, showed up on the third anniversary of the crash. Weird coincidence, huh?
You're being allowed to mingle with the others. The first order of the day is having a proper meal at the mess hall — some of the Adamant's survivors will be friendlier than others. They've been stranded here for years, remember? Some of them will be so desperate to talk to someone who has news of other places, and some will be giving you the cold shoulder.
You'll be fed the same as the rest of them. A plastic plate of crumbled protein of unidentifiable origin and gravy over rice with a single wilted stalk of broccoli and a cup of the worst coffee you've ever had. Maybe somebody bumps into you and spills said coffee, maybe you make it all the way to one of the long tables set out for communal eating.
Time to strike up a chat with your neighbor — maybe ask them to pass the salt?
(What do you mean, there's no salt!?)
After a meal — it's hard to say which one you'd call it, since the whole crew is on rotating schedules — you may decide to wander the basecamp. Folks in every department could use a hand. Those willing to help out may get friendlier reception than those who play the tourist. For more info on what else you might find, check out the LOCATIONS page.
During this time, characters will be able to return to the Central Chrysalis where they hatched. While there are no clues as to how they got there, they might find items — their own, or someone else's. Everyone is strapped for supplies, but try not to snatch up anything that isn't yours. The security officers don't look kindly on people chasing one other down the hall, trying to get back their dirty magazines.
A few notes:
Released from the detention center after three days, you are given the run-down by the locals — you're on a planet called Ethyraia, and the people around you are survivors of the catastrophic crash of the UCSS Adamant several years prior. You, in fact, showed up on the third anniversary of the crash. Weird coincidence, huh?
You're being allowed to mingle with the others. The first order of the day is having a proper meal at the mess hall — some of the Adamant's survivors will be friendlier than others. They've been stranded here for years, remember? Some of them will be so desperate to talk to someone who has news of other places, and some will be giving you the cold shoulder.
You'll be fed the same as the rest of them. A plastic plate of crumbled protein of unidentifiable origin and gravy over rice with a single wilted stalk of broccoli and a cup of the worst coffee you've ever had. Maybe somebody bumps into you and spills said coffee, maybe you make it all the way to one of the long tables set out for communal eating.
Time to strike up a chat with your neighbor — maybe ask them to pass the salt?
(What do you mean, there's no salt!?)
After a meal — it's hard to say which one you'd call it, since the whole crew is on rotating schedules — you may decide to wander the basecamp. Folks in every department could use a hand. Those willing to help out may get friendlier reception than those who play the tourist. For more info on what else you might find, check out the LOCATIONS page.
During this time, characters will be able to return to the Central Chrysalis where they hatched. While there are no clues as to how they got there, they might find items — their own, or someone else's. Everyone is strapped for supplies, but try not to snatch up anything that isn't yours. The security officers don't look kindly on people chasing one other down the hall, trying to get back their dirty magazines.
A few notes:
☆ Feel free to help out anywhere. Every little bit of assistance you offer to the locals will raise their estimation of you. You could easily help clean dishes after the meal, help fix leaky piping or repair hammocks. You could stop by the aid station and assist with the wounded. You'll be watched closely and some of the survivors will be warier than others, but most will appreciate the opportunity to have a 'break'.
☆ If your character leaves the basecamp and wanders outside the Leviathan, they may begin to notice that what they perhaps took as a giant cave is actually an enormous dragon. Everything they see that seems 'human made' will look varying levels of worn down, patched, repaired and patched again. This is not a place of prosperity and happiness. Many people are recently injured, or have new scars or missing limbs.
☆ PCs will be warned about going beyond the shade of the dragon's wings. For the sake of the test drive mods will not be facilitating plots that deal with characters going further; we ask that players with an interest in exploring this wait until the game is fully open.
☆ If your character leaves the basecamp and wanders outside the Leviathan, they may begin to notice that what they perhaps took as a giant cave is actually an enormous dragon. Everything they see that seems 'human made' will look varying levels of worn down, patched, repaired and patched again. This is not a place of prosperity and happiness. Many people are recently injured, or have new scars or missing limbs.
☆ PCs will be warned about going beyond the shade of the dragon's wings. For the sake of the test drive mods will not be facilitating plots that deal with characters going further; we ask that players with an interest in exploring this wait until the game is fully open.
❀ RESCUE MISSION
"There's no time to waste," the woman says breathlessly as she grabs your arm. She pulls you to an augmented reality sand table and you will find yourself standing alongside some of the others you may recognize as having 'hatched' with you. There are murmurs by the Adamant's survivors as they pour over data. Maybe you remember Captain Childe from the stern interrogation she gave you a few days ago, but in any case but she's standing at the edge of the sand table looking at the distance scaled between the enormous huddle of HUD badges — the Adamant's survivors — and a tiny pocket of pulsing green some fifteen kilometers away.
"They knew better," Captain Childe says, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "They should have been back hours ago."
"Fucking scientists," says a man with a faintly French accent. He is scarred and battle-worn, and looks properly pissed off. He's also sporting several fresh injuries, one of which seems to have warranted the use of a crutch. "They'd lose their heads if they weren't attached. Let them wait out the storm."
"No," the captain says. "They're too close to the Rat Nest. We don't need a repeat of —" she trails off, as if seeing you for the first time. She looks you up and down, and then: "You've been told by now that everyone here has to pitch in. If you know how to fight, be ready in ten minutes. You're our rescue squad." She turns and walks out, and there's an awkward moment where everyone present is looking at you to make a choice.
Ten minutes really isn't a lot of time to get ready to walk into danger. Or maybe you aren't a fighter. Maybe you just don't care. But either way, there are people looking to you. To see how you'll react. To see what you'll do. To see if you belong.
What'll it be, hatchling? Fight or flight? Maybe you ought to start coming up with a plan.
FIELD WORK
There's a cadre of scientists cut off by acid rain. From their last transmission, they were driven into the Rat Warrens — and you've been tasked with rescuing them. Too many members of the Security Team are themselves injured, and none of the remaining ones have experience leading a fire team. Let's hope you do — or at least that you can fake it.
Maybe you've hand-picked your team. Maybe you're just stuck with whoever else was closest. Either way, your companions are some of the people you might recognize as fellow 'hatchlings'. If you know them already — good, you've got a head start on what they might be capable of out in the field, and you can chat about the little things. You know, like the weather. Acid rain, gotta love it.
Either way. You're given few small slabs of surprisingly lightweight alloy that has a sheet of — is that hide from the Leviathan? — stretched across them, to divide up amongst your team. "Helps with the rain," Ensign Porter says, trying to sound cheerful despite the grim set to his jaw. "Just come back in one piece. I kinda feel responsible for you guys, you know?"
Before you know it, you're outfitted for the trip. Weapons (if you didn't have your own) and maybe some medical supplies, handed over with a grimace by Doc Sunya.
So then it's just you, your tiny team and a fifteen kilometer hike. Oh, and the acid rain. Luckily, the shields seem to be keeping it off, but it's hard to hear anything over the impact of the drops. Anyone want to play I never?
Or maybe you think you should make a break for it. This is your first time being outside the Leviathan unsupervised. You've got supplies, and other people with as little to lose here as you do. Maybe you should talk.
THE RAT WARREN
You've made it to the last transmitted location of the scientists. What you find doesn't bode well — one of them seemed to have an arm torn off — at least, you think it's an arm — the way it's been disintegrated by the rain makes it hard to tell.
One thing's certain, though. There are bloodstains leading into the nearby maw of a hole in the ground. There's a putrid odor wafting from it, and the sound of frantic scrabbling.
You have an idea of what might be down there. 'Giant rats with tentacles', Porter had said. Don't let the tentacles grab you, they leave chemical burns that usually result in amputation if they can't be treated immediately. But there's a chance the scientists are still alive, and you need to make your choice.
If you and your small team venture down into the darkness, what happens next is up to you. You'll be encountering hoards of these monsters. The scientists are still alive, but will they stay that way? And more importantly, can you get them back to the Leviathan in one piece?
PCs versus the local fauna, round one, FIGHT!
A few notes:
"They knew better," Captain Childe says, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "They should have been back hours ago."
"Fucking scientists," says a man with a faintly French accent. He is scarred and battle-worn, and looks properly pissed off. He's also sporting several fresh injuries, one of which seems to have warranted the use of a crutch. "They'd lose their heads if they weren't attached. Let them wait out the storm."
"No," the captain says. "They're too close to the Rat Nest. We don't need a repeat of —" she trails off, as if seeing you for the first time. She looks you up and down, and then: "You've been told by now that everyone here has to pitch in. If you know how to fight, be ready in ten minutes. You're our rescue squad." She turns and walks out, and there's an awkward moment where everyone present is looking at you to make a choice.
Ten minutes really isn't a lot of time to get ready to walk into danger. Or maybe you aren't a fighter. Maybe you just don't care. But either way, there are people looking to you. To see how you'll react. To see what you'll do. To see if you belong.
What'll it be, hatchling? Fight or flight? Maybe you ought to start coming up with a plan.
FIELD WORK
There's a cadre of scientists cut off by acid rain. From their last transmission, they were driven into the Rat Warrens — and you've been tasked with rescuing them. Too many members of the Security Team are themselves injured, and none of the remaining ones have experience leading a fire team. Let's hope you do — or at least that you can fake it.
Maybe you've hand-picked your team. Maybe you're just stuck with whoever else was closest. Either way, your companions are some of the people you might recognize as fellow 'hatchlings'. If you know them already — good, you've got a head start on what they might be capable of out in the field, and you can chat about the little things. You know, like the weather. Acid rain, gotta love it.
Either way. You're given few small slabs of surprisingly lightweight alloy that has a sheet of — is that hide from the Leviathan? — stretched across them, to divide up amongst your team. "Helps with the rain," Ensign Porter says, trying to sound cheerful despite the grim set to his jaw. "Just come back in one piece. I kinda feel responsible for you guys, you know?"
Before you know it, you're outfitted for the trip. Weapons (if you didn't have your own) and maybe some medical supplies, handed over with a grimace by Doc Sunya.
So then it's just you, your tiny team and a fifteen kilometer hike. Oh, and the acid rain. Luckily, the shields seem to be keeping it off, but it's hard to hear anything over the impact of the drops. Anyone want to play I never?
Or maybe you think you should make a break for it. This is your first time being outside the Leviathan unsupervised. You've got supplies, and other people with as little to lose here as you do. Maybe you should talk.
THE RAT WARREN
You've made it to the last transmitted location of the scientists. What you find doesn't bode well — one of them seemed to have an arm torn off — at least, you think it's an arm — the way it's been disintegrated by the rain makes it hard to tell.
One thing's certain, though. There are bloodstains leading into the nearby maw of a hole in the ground. There's a putrid odor wafting from it, and the sound of frantic scrabbling.
You have an idea of what might be down there. 'Giant rats with tentacles', Porter had said. Don't let the tentacles grab you, they leave chemical burns that usually result in amputation if they can't be treated immediately. But there's a chance the scientists are still alive, and you need to make your choice.
If you and your small team venture down into the darkness, what happens next is up to you. You'll be encountering hoards of these monsters. The scientists are still alive, but will they stay that way? And more importantly, can you get them back to the Leviathan in one piece?
PCs versus the local fauna, round one, FIGHT!
A few notes:
☆ Feel free to put player characters 'in charge' of the planning/logistics phase. If another PC tags into your thread, you and that player can decide which PC will be 'leading the charge'.
☆ Your character will have: a mini-railgun, a spear (if they don't have their items/weapons from home), a first-aid kit, the acid rain shields, ration bars (that are essentially condensed protein bars — they do not taste good) and one of the smartwatches, which will have a mini holographic HUD displayable on its interface. If your character is the sort to request other things, feel free to assume they received them (within reason — please remember that resource scarcity is the name of the game — feel free to be creative here!).
☆ There are fifteen kilometers to cover. If your character has an ability like superspeed/etc, please keep in mind it will work, but you also have your allies to consider. Normal walking time over this distance, given the difficulty of the environment (steep hills, acid rain, unknown territory, etc) would translate to several hours to an average person.
☆ Feel free to use the NPC scientists however you'd like. If you want your character to find some dead, you can. If you'd prefer they be rescued, that is also acceptable. These are essentially 'your' NPCs that you are using to facilitate the story at this point — the sky is the metaphoric limit!
☆ Your character will have: a mini-railgun, a spear (if they don't have their items/weapons from home), a first-aid kit, the acid rain shields, ration bars (that are essentially condensed protein bars — they do not taste good) and one of the smartwatches, which will have a mini holographic HUD displayable on its interface. If your character is the sort to request other things, feel free to assume they received them (within reason — please remember that resource scarcity is the name of the game — feel free to be creative here!).
☆ There are fifteen kilometers to cover. If your character has an ability like superspeed/etc, please keep in mind it will work, but you also have your allies to consider. Normal walking time over this distance, given the difficulty of the environment (steep hills, acid rain, unknown territory, etc) would translate to several hours to an average person.
☆ Feel free to use the NPC scientists however you'd like. If you want your character to find some dead, you can. If you'd prefer they be rescued, that is also acceptable. These are essentially 'your' NPCs that you are using to facilitate the story at this point — the sky is the metaphoric limit!
❀ BOOZE
A week. You've been here for a week.
By now, you might have tried to venture out of Basecamp Leviathan and experienced firsthand the acid rains that the security officers warned you about. Or you might be teaching the kids at the schoolyard how to gamble. In any event, Thorkil seems to take pity on his disoriented new friends and taps his distillery for a little help.
Invitation passes by word of mouth to meet at the memorial wall. Moonshine of questionable quality is passed around in tin cups — hope no one's afraid of germs — as Thorkil explains the great relief it is to be gaining people instead of losing them. This settlement isn't big, and they aren't overburdened with hope or supplies, but there's been a lot of loss in the past three years. Some people might be willing to look at the arrival of these newcomers as a sign that things are turning around.
Bottoms up, hatchlings, and ... Happy Birthday?
A few notes:
By now, you might have tried to venture out of Basecamp Leviathan and experienced firsthand the acid rains that the security officers warned you about. Or you might be teaching the kids at the schoolyard how to gamble. In any event, Thorkil seems to take pity on his disoriented new friends and taps his distillery for a little help.
Invitation passes by word of mouth to meet at the memorial wall. Moonshine of questionable quality is passed around in tin cups — hope no one's afraid of germs — as Thorkil explains the great relief it is to be gaining people instead of losing them. This settlement isn't big, and they aren't overburdened with hope or supplies, but there's been a lot of loss in the past three years. Some people might be willing to look at the arrival of these newcomers as a sign that things are turning around.
Bottoms up, hatchlings, and ... Happy Birthday?
A few notes:
☆ Feel free to turn this into an impromptu party. Maybe you're celebrating getting all the scientists back alive! Maybe it's something like a wake to remember them in the sad event of their passing. Either way, many of the engineers and other NPCs may join you in this moonlight drinking session, as well as whatever PCs you tag out to or are tagged by.)
❀ OBLIGATORY NETWORK
Welcome people of all kinds to Basecamp Leviathan! I'd give you a hand moving in except...
I have no hands.
Because I'm an AI.
Get it?
It's a joke.
My name is Cartagena. But anyway, this isn't about me or the Adamant for once. This is about all of you. So if you would kindly fill out the following questionnaire to get to know each other; it would also be very helpful for my systems.
NOTE: Participation is MANDATORY.
That was another joke. It's all voluntary. You people and your free will.
1. What is your name?
2. Where are you from?
3. What's your favorite smell? Please describe it as you would to a person without a nose. Because I do not have a nose.
4. If you could be any animal in any world, what would you be?
5. How old are you?
6. Did you enjoy this questionnaire?
Thank you for your participation! Please enjoy the rest of your stay here at Basecamp Leviathan.
I have no hands.
Because I'm an AI.
Get it?
It's a joke.
My name is Cartagena. But anyway, this isn't about me or the Adamant for once. This is about all of you. So if you would kindly fill out the following questionnaire to get to know each other; it would also be very helpful for my systems.
NOTE: Participation is MANDATORY.
That was another joke. It's all voluntary. You people and your free will.
1. What is your name?
2. Where are you from?
3. What's your favorite smell? Please describe it as you would to a person without a nose. Because I do not have a nose.
4. If you could be any animal in any world, what would you be?
5. How old are you?
6. Did you enjoy this questionnaire?
Thank you for your participation! Please enjoy the rest of your stay here at Basecamp Leviathan.
no subject
He doesn't particularly like the strategy, it feels a little bit like using Lance as a human meat shield-- )
Hey, hang on.
( Sorry, he kind of shifts underneath Lance's metal umbrella as though he's suddenly forgotten what personal space is. He's not getting fresh, he just needs the cover so he can reshape his own into something... maybe actually practical.
Give the meat shield a shield-shield? )
If they're resistant to acidic rain...
( He shrugs a little, offering it out.
Maybe they'll be resistant to whatever did that to a human arm. )
no subject
That's a great idea.
[He takes the offered shield, carefully handing over control of the one he's holding over their heads to Ian so that he can take the modified one. It just might work, and it also makes him feel just a little more confident to have something that he could put between himself and an attacking rat monster.]
Okay. Ready?
[As soon as he gets the agreement he'll hold up the shield so that he can step out from under the one he's passed to Ian, giving the hole in the ground a cursory glance before deciding there's nothing lurking at the entrance and beginning to climb in.
This sucks so much.
As soon as he's out of the rain he holds the shield in front of him, drawing his gun and taking a moment to adjust to holding both objects; he rarely shoots with only one hand, especially since his shooting hand isn't all that strong after breaking it a few years earlier, but he should still be able to manage. And for good measure he concentrates briefly, lighting his gun up with the same golden glow as he's lit the ring with before; he's already going to attract attention, might as well make it so he and Ian can see a little better.
He waits just far enough inside the tunnel to make sure Ian has room to join him out of the rain before the begin exploring.]
Okay. We've got this. In addition to like, shooting anything that's about to maul me, you mentioned the ceiling being unstable; is that something you think you could do something about, if it starts to collapse?
no subject
He's about two feet back at most; enough that he can carry his rifle between them, but still see relatively clearly over Lance's shoulders. )
Y..eah, to a certain extent.
( He doesn't sound uncertain exactly, he can do something about it. )
I can keep us from getting buried, but it-- I can't just push things nowhere. The stuff I move, it's gotta have space. If we get too deep... it'll be really difficult to tunnel us out. I can only handle about twenty-five feet at a time.
no subject
[Not extremely reassuring to think they could get trapped in the tunnel, but still. Living to deal with that issue would be better than just dying right away, right? He's just not going to consider too deeply how pathetically low that bar is.
A scrabbling sound comes from further down the tunnel and Lance freezes briefly, trying to figure out if it's coming toward them, but it doesn't seem to be just yet. But he thinks he also hears--]
Is that a voice?
[He asks Ian very quietly, without looking back at him; he's not totally sure, but he thinks he can hear a distant voice yelling from some faraway passage.]
no subject
Something to deal with later.
Lance fixates on the voice, Ian fixates on the scrabbling. One of those is a more immediate issue, the other is the end goal. )
Could be.
( He murmurs, sounding almost distracted. )
...but a lot of things have voices.
( Rats, for instance, are plenty good at shrieking too. )
Listen, if too many of them come running out and it gets overwhelming, don't try to fumble with the gun and the shield at the same time. If you can hold it, I can aim over your shoulder.
( Which will make a fantastic stand for the rifle, but it'll be fucking awful for Lance's ears. That's inevitable either way, though, if he has to start shooting. )
no subject
But for now, they have a lot they have to actually deal with, and Lance is not so sure that the sound is rats; worse than that, he's now very fixated on the thought that there might indeed be people alive who need help sooner rather than later, and that they're wasting time. If he were alone he'd already be heading toward the possible voice again, but Ian being here forces him to consider more carefully.]
Got it. Hopefully it'll be enough to hold them off.
[He's not sure exactly how large these creatures are, after all, or how strong they are. Or whatever else they're capable of.
He starts to lead the way through the tunnel again, slowly, remarking quietly--]
Rats are pretty smart; maybe they'll figure out we're too much trouble.
[Maybe. Hopefully. Wouldn't that be nice?]
no subject
It's not exactly the same with Lance, it's a far more mild situation with far more mild opposing tendencies, but it's still at play a little. Left to his own devices, Ian would take another five unnecessary minutes to make something fool-proof despite the fact that it's completely impossible to do that realistically.
He leads, and Ian is compelled to follow rather than get stuck in the planning phase.
In his defense, these overly-cautious tendencies kept him alive the first six months before he found Crater Lake. )
Or maybe they'll figure out we've been eating more than bland protein slop, because we smell like fast food instead of kale.
( He mutters back, a shrug more in his voice than his shoulders. When in doubt, assume something wants to slaughter you.
The voice grows louder and distinctly more human. Something along the lines of, I can't hold it, I can't hold it anymore, oh god--
How long have they been down here? Hours? There's no way they'll have been having a party down here the entire time. They must have found some kind of shelter, some kind of cover, something to hold them off for as long as they have, right?
There's an answering shriek. He's pretty sure that one is a rat. )
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In this situation his intuition says their window to rescue the scientists is closing, but also that the rats are distracted, if only briefly. He spares only a quick glance at Ian as a signal before turning back toward the tunnel, shield and gun both raised, and picks up his pace for several strides until there's another, shockingly close shriek.
And then there's a monster, and calling it a rat is really too simplistic; the thing is horrifying, its head split into four different sections, with tentacles growing from its back and massive claws at the end of its too-many legs. What the hell, seriously.
He's stunned only a moment by the sight, but hesitates to fire for longer; he can't tell which direction the scientists have--hopefully?--barricaded themselves in, and has a sudden fear of hitting one of them with a stray bullet. But that gives enough time for the creature to make the first move, whipping a tentacle toward Lance and Ian, and although Lance moves quickly enough to block it with the shield another tentacle immediately follows, lashing out toward them both from another angle.]
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When they flooded the streets of New Amsterdam, it wasn't the bodies or the carnage that made him falter. It wasn't even the monsters, though they were startling and terrifying things to look at. It was the striking, vibrant thought that sounded a little like: oh no, not again.
It's the same thing here. He doesn't falter because there's a rat the size of a doberman slinging acidic tentacles around. He doesn't falter because they're underground in close quarters with it. He falters because he's abruptly confronted with that striking realization that this is life again. This is how things are now. This is what they'll be living with.
It's like being back.
In a place like this, there's no life, there's just living. There's no Starbucks, no teaching, no job, no stability. No security. For long stretches of time, there's just surviving — almost always one or two steps out of his own body, piloting from a place of detachment, running on adrenaline and problem-solving because he learned he wasn't allowed to be afraid anymore.
(That comes later, or he drinks and doesn't let it come at all.)
Slow down and problem solve.
That tentacle whips around, and a blue glow comes from somewhere that isn't Lance's shoes. His shield stretches out to one side, pinning the tentacle into the dirt wall beside them. It can still move, but its range of motion is limited to six or eight inches, back and forth, easy enough to avoid while he aims over Lance's shoulder and fires — mostly blind, because he can't see the goddam thing from this vantage point. He's just sort of shooting where he approximates tentacle to meet body. )
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Then there's a gunshot, and the rat shrieks at the same time as Lance gasps in pain, thrown off balance and staggering for a moment due to the sound of gunfire right next to his ear and in such an enclosed space, but he'd been mentally prepared enough for it that it doesn't stop him for long. The rat takes more time to recover, and with it now closer to the wall of the tunnel Lance is confident enough to take a shot at it without worrying about hitting someone behind it. The bullet hits right in the center of the thing's strangely split head, and it shrieks once more before slumping to the ground.
Although Lance can't quite hear it at the moment, ears ringing too badly, there's more scrabbling come from down the hall as more creatures are doubtlessly drawn to the sound of the scuffle.]
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The tentacle next to him goes mostly still, barely twitching out the last bits of stimulus still running through the muscle. He shifts his shield away and it slumps to the ground.
It was loud enough to leave Ian with an inevitable migraine, but he's clearly picking up on things Lance probably can't right now. The best he can do to communicate is offer up two clear taps to the left shoulder, an indicator of where the noise is coming from. One quick fisted grip to the fabric of his shirt, and then both hands back on his gun.
Sure enough, a cluster of bodies barrel down the tunnel. He can't actually get a count on them, could be two, could be five, he just knows there's more than one.
Gun up. Fire. It pegs the front-runner in the chest and it topples, momentarily tripping up the one behind it. Not for long, though. It's not even remotely concerned for its fallen brethren, it just scrambles over the body to get to Lance. )
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Lance picks up on the cues well enough, and although he can't hear out of that ear again yet the dizziness is at least quickly subsiding, enough that he's able to regroup a little. He's got the shield back up by the time Ian fires again, and raises his own gun a moment later, satisfied at this point that any scientists have hopefully taken enough cover that he doesn't need to worry about taking his shots.
And so he does, picking off the rat climbing over the one Ian's taken out, then the one after that, then another in a rapid succession of very precisely aimed shots; he's keeping mental track of how many bullets he has, and isn't about to waste any that he doesn't need to.
Then, finally, it's quiet; surely that isn't all of them, but for a moment, they have a break. Lance is silent a few seconds, gaze still fixed down the passage until he's sure there's nothing coming after them--for now, anyway--and then looks back at Ian.]
Are you okay?
[He can sort of hear his own voice, which means he should sort of be able to hear Ian, so good enough.]
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Are you okay?
He's nodding automatically, eyes still alert and fixed on the tunnel. Waiting for anything that hints at a threat.
You do things one step at a time, in order. Problem-solving. The problem: they need to get those people out.
Go down the tunnel, find a blockade.
Listen for voices.
Pull them out.
Leave the nest
Make it home.
Find something to drink.
The panic always sets in after, for him. He freaks out in retrospect, now. He holds it together until he's alone, just like he holds it together impressively well when he's drunk. Hard to tell right up until you can really fucking tell.
He jerks his head forward, past the fallen alien bodies. )
They're down there. I think they're probably in a dead-end passage or something. I wouldn't be surprised if they've been doing the same thing, with the...
( He lifts and lowers the shield. That's what he'd do, obviously. )
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So he just makes a mental note for later as Ian talks, and Lance is half-listening and half-reading lips by the dim glow of his light spell, which he realizes he's actually maintained throughout that whole mess. But he gets the gist of what Ian's saying and nods, frowning for a moment before asking--]
Can you yell for them and see if you get a response?
[He's not sure he'll necessarily hear it, or he'd do it himself. He's also a little concerned that the scientists might be actually trapped somewhere, considering the potential instability of the cave, and if so finding them might be slightly more challenging than just continuing down the tunnel.]
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It's close enough, though, to get through this calmly and rationally.
Another quick nod, and he lowers the rifle down — not that it impacts yelling in any way, more of a tip-off to lance that he's about to start. Poor guy's had enough damage inflicted on his eardrums already tonight. )
Hello? Can anyone hear me?
( From some twenty or thirty yards away, he gets back a shaky reply: Are they dead? Is it safe? Please, god, tell me you're with the rescue team.
He gives Lance another nod and a little nudge, gentle, toward their voices. )
Yeah! I think we got most of them, I don't know. I don't think we should stick around to find out!
( There's bound to be a labyrinth of tunnels here, a dozen or more rats filling the holes. They're not here to exterminate the nest, they're just grabbing as many people as they can and getting the hell out. )
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He can hear Ian's questions, and then a voice in response, though he can't make out the details of what they're saying. No big deal, because what matter is that there are people alive, and that's an incredible relief; he nods back at Ian at the nudge, turning in the correct direction and beginning to cautiously lead the way again.
The tunnel is thankfully devoid of any further creatures just yet, and so soon the small huddle of people comes into view, crammed into a corner with their shields up, just as Ian had guessed they might be. Lance glances over them quickly, assessing their conditions, looking specifically for someone who's lost an arm, and it isn't too difficult to find them at the back of the group and slumped down on the ground; another scientist is near them, trying to help, but there's only so much they can do.]
Ian, can you cover me?
[Lance asks directly, voice quiet as he misjudges how loud to make it, but that's probably better than erring the other way. He can do a little more for the scientist than their colleagues can, but it's going to take a little time and concentration and the last thing he needs is to be ambushed by another rat, so although he doesn't exactly like leaving Ian on the front line this time it's unfortunately necessary.]
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Add a step to the solution:
Triage the wound.
It must be a double-edged sword, those burns. He's not bleeding out — at least, not very quickly — but the absolute pain he must be in as it slowly eats away at his flesh... Kind of makes sense from an evolutionary standpoint, a small and absurd part of him volunteers. Keeps the food source alive and fresh for longer. What he'd really like is to have one of them caged and brought back so he could figure out something to neutralize the shit they secrete, but there's no way in hell that's happening right now. )
Yeah.
( Quickly and easily enough, rifle back at the ready, body angled toward the tunnels with Lance in his peripheral vision.
One of them, a shaky bespeckled man, twitches nervously.
Can't we just go already? You can come back for him. You have a gun, get us the fuck out of here! )
No. I need you to sit down and pay attention, please.
( Go back in time and tell him that he'd be using his Classroom Voice to keep people calm at the end of days. It's absolutely fucking stupid how often it works. )
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He reaches out to pat Ian's shoulder in passing, trying to reassure him a little while he goes toward the back of the group to see what he can do for the injured man. It's for the best that he isn't quite able to tell what the man with the glasses says, because he would've informed him he's welcome to leave any time if he's so eager to do so, and Ian's way of handling things is a lot better.
Lance kneels next to the injured man, offering him a small smile and a few words of reassurance.]
I think I can help.
[He glances at the woman who's been doing her best so far, and explains to her how to doing a simple pattern of calming breaths; once she's got the idea, and has distracted the injured scientist with the task, Lance turns his attention back to the injury. Okay. He can't exactly fix this, but he can certainly stop the damage from worsening, and he closes his eyes briefly in concentration.
The slow progression of the acid ceases, and so does the bleeding, some of the torn edges of the wound smoothing out. At least now it isn't getting worse, and the edge of the pain is taken off, and now the small assortment of medical supplies he'd been given can come in handy as he covers the injury in preparation for them all to get moving. With any lucky, the scientist will be stable enough not to just to get out of here, but to get safely back to the base.
Which is good, because scrabbling has begun again, from two different passageways.]
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( Probably not the best or most helpful first reaction, but it's mindless and automatic. Bypasses his thinking and falls out of his mouth. The second thing is a little better; voice steady but slightly raised in warning: )
Lance.
( One word, just a name, but it does a plenty effective job at saying they're coming and I need you at the same time.
He's not exactly freezing, so much as this is where decision paralysis comes into play. It mainly kicks in when he's trying to think for a group. One or two people and it comes almost easy. More than that... This is why he isn't a leader. This is why Nia was always in charge, and he always stepped back to offer insight without making the call.
Now, he's trying too hard too fast to identify the problems that come with staying and shooting whatever's coming, or making a run for it. Trying too hard to confidently know the one correct choice, because it's not just himself he's fucking over if he's wrong. Not enough knowledge, not enough time, they need to do something now. )
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So he turns away from the injured man and the scientist who's helping, the latter taking over the bandages, and he gets to his feet to rejoin Ian. Now, turned the right way, he can hear the motion, and he glances over at Ian.]
As soon as they all come into this tunnel I'm going to surprise them, and then we're all going to run. Do you think you could collapse the ceiling behind us?
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I can. It won't hold them for very long, they burrow-- well. Obviously. But it should buy us enough time to get out. Especially if--
( He dips down quickly, plucking a shield away from the scientist, who lets out an affronted, hey!
He frisbee's it down the non-escape-route tunnel. It doesn't make for much of a wall, particularly considering how thin he has to bend it to cover the surface area, but it's something. Every little bit helps.
He exhales a steadying breath, then shoots Lance a nod.
Ready. )
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He looks away from the path ahead only for a moment in order to figure out what Ian's doing, but then he realizes he's blocked off a tunnel, and good. They're going to be down a shield when they get out in the rain, but that isn't a problem--they'll just need to account for that--and it's well worth it to have one less thing to focus on here and now.
Lance nods again at Ian, gun still holstered, and he's only still holding his shield so as to have a light source. His attention is on the tunnel ahead of them, looking more than listening, but it's becoming clear another wave of those things is about to arrive.
And then they do, a whole group just like before, and Lance steps in front of Ian just to make absolutely sure he has a clear shot before his holds up a hand. Lightning arcs with a cracking sound, lighting up the whole tunnel briefly, lancing not just through the rat in the front but all of them behind it, one by one. It lasts only a brief moment, but then there's silence for a second more before Lance breaks it.]
Okay. Time to go.
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( A disbelieving murmur from somewhere just behind Lance, detachment and fear and all those other things momentarily replaced by pure, unadulterated bewilderment.
It's not so much that he doesn't kick it into gear behind their group of running scientists, he's still in line and attentive with his gun at the ready.
He's just. )
Are you fucking-- you could have maybe mentioned that you were Harry fucking Potter this whole time.
( Called forward over the sound of thudding feet between them and scrabbling behind them. Making a pretty light is one thing. Barbecuing a fucking flock of rats with lightning shooting out of your hands is a whole different league.
He doesn't collapse the tunnel instantly — it'll absolutely fuck them if he screws with the precarious structural integrity in here and accidentally brings the entire thing collapsing down onto their heads.
He waits until they pass an intersection. Lets himself lag behind a few yards. Lets them put as much distance as they can between themselves and the inevitable drop, and as soon as the urgency starts to hit him a little too hard, he glows blue and yanks.
Stone and dirt and tree roots cave in with all the vengeance of pissed-off gravity, and... yeah, he fucking books it half a second later. )
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Which Lance would inform Ian of, but first he has to double check that the scientists are shielding themselves before heading out into the rain; it seems that they are, thankfully, coordinating to cover both the injured man and the person whose shield Ian had commandeered.
And soon the scientists are out of the tunnel and into the rain, and Lance turns back to make sure Ian is joining him. Once they're out of the tunnel, rain thundering down on their shields, he offers Ian a small grin.]
Mission accomplished.
[They both need to hold off any freaking out for just a little while longer, until they're back at the base, so for now they might as well try to feel a well-earned sense of relief.]
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Well, it was the Aerie, but discounting that, it was when monsters roamed the streets of New Amsterdam unchecked. Not nearly enough to flex his Keep Your Shit Together muscles.
It's fine. He's got it. He's fine. At the very least, he can project the appearance of being fine. Keep that chill in his posture, in the slowness of his speech, in his tone. A little less default amusement than normal, but nobody could blame him for that.
He glances at Lance once, shooting him a huff of a laugh and a tired-looking smile. )
Yeah. Nice work, man.
( And then his eyes are back on the road ahead.
Next steps:
Get back to the compound.
Find something to drink.
Just, like, two shots and then he'll be fine. That's generally enough to stop it in its tracks. )
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