EVENT: DUPRR ▒ THE SECONDARY SHUTTLE BAY

[ataraxites]

CHARACTERS: Ensemble production!
LOCATION: The secondary shuttle bay
WARNINGS: Violence, injury, graphic imagery, death etc.
SUMMARY: Discovery of the secondary shuttle bay and rescue or not of the DUPRR NPCs inside.
NOTES: March 30 onwards.

The doors are torn open as you arrive, metal ripped back like the skin of a fruit. Improvised barricades of tools and carts, shuttle pieces stand as obstacles to be carefully climbed through before you can stand in the shuttle bay itself. The space is vast, flashlight beams penetrating only a certain distance into the dark, but enough to sweep the floor, find the scattered, gored remains of at least three human bodies. The ship stands as the only complete vessel in sight - or, at least, it was. Windows smashed, the hull torn at, access doors ripped open. The inside empty. The shuttle bay is silent. But is that the silence of a catastrophe already passed, or of someone hiding, holding their breath?

Comments

Steve Rogers | ota

[priceoffreedom]

[Steve is cautious as he approaches - he's good at caution sometimes, despite what Bucky might say - his shield just in front of him. It's maybe too quiet, but Steve knows just as well that this kind of silence can sometimes hide people who are desperately trying to survive.

He takes his time, then, crossing the space. He takes his time and approaches, slowly, quietly.

He knows there are people here with him, so he signals to them as things look clear. Look is the operative word.]

Rey & NPCs (if 1-2 others want to join thats A++ to me)

[dogbane]

Three days' walk, nearly relentless and absolutely disorienting. The massive serpents and rotting humanoids and the rest of the infinite menagerie of horrors had left them unmolested, but the walls wouldn't stop turning. Turn right around and walk back fifty paces in the direction you came from, and the shape of the junction will have changed completely. Not even reprieve from the bejeweled skeletons and giant killer robots could offset the consuming grind of making their way through the labyrinth.

Their, which is to say-- that he isn't alone.

William should be tired, but he barely needs sleep. He'd watched over Rey, his fingers interlaced with hers while she squeezed in three-hour naps here or there, the two of them curled up small under the passing shadows of impossible creatures. His feet hurt a little, but they'd brought food and water in their packs. He should be scared and confused, but he feels okay lately. The network keeps him abreast of his fellow passengers: minimal maimings, Medbay secure.

The compulsion droning through his mind is a constant and nearly reassuring because of it, when change threatens everything else, from the architecture to the murky future.

So when he steps into the shuttle bay, he looks alert, clutching Rey's arm like a child; her flashlight leads the way. His backpack still puffs up huge behind him, barely depleted-- recon syndrome was merely the cost of experiences that taught them all to pack for far longer journeys than anyone could otherwise have planned for. There's something a little raw, bigger and a little less blinky than usual about his eyes peering around past bloody corpses and scattered glass, but for all intents and purposes, he looks a bit like a kindergardener drawn along to his first day of class by mum. "Hello," he calls out. He cranes his head to look inside the ship.

Empty?

"We're here. We've got your medical supplies," he says. William only needs one hand to type, so he does-- adds one message to the thread left dangling in his comm device. He tips his head after he's sent it, listening for the receipt notification sound.

[circumitus]

William had to have come into this whole situation much better prepared than Rey. Hell, just about anyone who isn't Rey had been better prepared, as someone who ran at the first instinct beckoning her down those infested halls in the first place. Rather than heeding Tyke's orders to hold or double back, she moves forward. Whatever it is that's calling to her, that is the only certainty that she has any faith in now.

And with little efforts and that one leap of faith, here they are. And she's tired, but mostly in that way when you're so exhausted that you're simply not anymore. Like it's mind over matter and all the matter that's left is the only burst of kinetic energy keeping you alive and standing in this very moment.

She exhales, escorting William at her side. You'd think she would be one of those types to shrug off any sign of closeness, except Rey is surprisingly tolerant of William's clinging. She doesn't even think to question him -- they're both, after all, in the same boat here. Not just fellow travelers in the same shell of a ship, but having survived the impossible circumstances revolving around that recon mission that had claimed two of their own.

Rey falls quiet for a few seconds, her eyes darting around the dimly lit darkness. Searching.

"Hopefully they aren't dead already," she mutters, as the light she's holding catches on the aftermath of the DUPRR crew's unexpected arrival. She's seen plenty of bodies in her lifetimes not to be daunted by the bloodshed, and presses forward.

Hopefully, she's just said. But how much of that she really feels, she isn't sure. She hasn't been sure of anything in regards to whatever the hell is going on in her head for the last three days.

[volares]

The whooshing arrival ping of network notifications never rings out—at least, not at a volume they can hear. The second shuttle bay is as massive as the first, stretching out into a seemingly infinite darkness beyond the carnage that the nightmarish creatures left behind in their wake.

The ship settles and sighs, metal creaking, climate control whirring.

As their eyes scrape over the scene, they take in rent metal and bloodstains. Failed barricades. Beyond one of the corpses—if it can be still called that when it's really no more than a pile of soupy organs, shredded flesh, and crunched, broken bone—they can see that the stacked supply cases are knocked over, almost a hundred yards back.

Someone had doubled back, fleeing the brutal war zone that had apparently come through the entrance to the secondary shuttle bay. And they had done it in a hurry.

[dogbane]

Normally, William would be breaking out the sample jars.

Yes, William brought sample jars.

But not now, somehow. He creeps forward in Rey's wake, or sort of at Rey's side, his eyes roving to and fro over the matted bed of body parts. His shoe squelches viscously in dark blood, and then a puckered skein of skin gets caught in the sole, but he manages to pull it free with a wiggle of his foot. He doesn't even look down to do it. Partly because he's scared enough, and partly because he doesn't want to get distracted by the squishy, pureed science :)x littered all over the floor, and partly because

he's distracted. Someone had doubled back. "Looks like some cunt went through there," he tells Rey, whispering for any number of reasons-- none of them very practical, considering the distance to the nearest cover.

He points forward, all the way there-- at the dominoed supply cases.

DEAN, SAM, BLAKE, SELINA, ALLISON, BUCKY, GOGO, KENNEX, ETC. | NPC RESCUE

[decretorium]

[ Please comment below for NPC discovery and rescue. Due to the size of this group, THERE WILL BE NO TAG ORDER. First-come, first-serve, just keep the thread moving forward. ]

[oversight]

[ After the last couple harrowing days, Blake's finding it hard to feel anything but dissatisfied as they come upon the second shuttle bay. It's been tough — harder than it should be for a group of mostly competent adults (more or less) — and it speaks volumes about the potential tilt the return trip might take.

He doesn't appreciate the sight of the damage, nor does he like the idea of carrying Selina into another bad situation, but they've come this far together, and if they're getting home in one piece, it means they'd better go back together.

Edging along the wall, he lets the majority of the people in the group pass, lingering anxiously several feet from the door. ]

This looks like the place.

[His voice is quiet; the last thing he wants is to attract the attention of some lingering monster. ]

[overdraws]

[ She's exhausted. It shows in the lines on her face, the way her posture slumps slightly as they walk. She hasn't slept well, too keyed up at every noise coming at them in the dark, so when Blake announces that they're there, her initial response is a sigh of relief. They made it alive. It stirs a surge of adrenaline in her and she moves forward past Blake, standing just outside the door. Glancing over her shoulder, she looks at the rest of them, gaze finally settling on Dean. ] Ready?

[nutsaboutscans]

[Kennex's as exhausted as the others, but he's holding up okay, though he's still bleeding from a wound on his face. It's below his eye, though, so it's not hindering him. He nods in reply to Allison's question, looking around at the others to check on them. They all seem to be here and decently okay.]

ISAAC, DARCY & NPCs

[eripui]

[ Please comment below for NPC discovery. ]

[iceboxed]

[when the messages had come, isaac had wasted no time in heading off. he knows that the others won't understand. knows that, with each step he takes further in to the darkness, he's only digging a deeper hole for himself as far as his pack is concerned. they've already aired their concerns countless times before, and this will only add to it.

and then there's the creatures...

the first attack has him hiding in the shadows. the next, recovering from broken limbs and torn flesh. it's after the third attack, one that leaves him the bloodied, transformed victor, that he finally picks up on another heartbeat nearby. a human and vaguely familiar scent.

(he hasn't met her before. not in person. but he's been on the ship long enough. he's explored far enough to pick up on traces of most of the others on this ship. something that's only become possible thanks to him.)

his eyes shine gold, fangs and claws still slick with blood, but with the grin on his face, it's clear he isn't any kind of a threat. not right now. he hasn't reached his target yet, so he's not about to attack someone who isn't attacking him first.]

Gonna come out?

[50000volts]

[ Darcy had every intention of making her way to the medbay to join the others in hiding, but the creatures in the halls had other plans. Something had been on her heels, and it had dragged her screaming into the darkened corridors. She must have fainted. When she awoke, it was with nails broken on the floors as she tried to scrabble for purchase and hold her ground to no avail, and claw marks on her body. There was a message on her communicator, a directive to go deeper.

And she obeyed.

But while Darcy felt no real compulsion to try and seek out those she cares about, to turn back to the lit portions of the ship, she's also not foolish enough to make herself an easy target for whatever else might come after her. She has her taser held tightly in her hand when she emerges from around a corner, into Isaac's line of sight. She can't quite find relief, because one look at him tells her he's definitely not harmless. ]

I'm out. Now what?

[iceboxed]

[it's far from being the stun baton he's used to seeing in the hands of hunters from his world, but the taser has his attention for a few beats too long. (he doesn't know her. doesn't know if she plans on turning the weapon on him. doesn't know if he needs to make a move first.)

but then there's the scent of blood, and his gaze inches across to her hands. to her clothes. the blood is clearly hers, which means they're both in the same boat. they're both targets for the things creeping around the hallways, and that means she's potentially an ally.]

Shuttle bay's up ahead. He won't--

[he cuts himself off as a loud clang echoes through the hallway behind them, a growl slowly building in his throat. he won't be happy if he doesn't reach his goal. if he can't find the intruders before its too late. and if that means dragging a stranger along for the ride, then so be it. (she can be his scapegoat. or his next target).]

Come on. We need to find them.

KATE, CAPRICA, MILAGROS, SIRIUS, OCTAVIA & NPCS

[eripui]

[ Please comment below for NPC discovery. ]

[doggedly]

Passing through the jagged tear of the doors feels like passing into the maw of some great dead beast, the torn-back metal razored like rows of teeth. If the door is a jaw, then it's a jaw that's been cracked wide enough to allow them the space walk straight through, as if invited.

But there's nothing inviting about the room that they step into, a room that feels cavernous and utterly still, like they've gone far underground. There's a quiet and steady drip, like a leaky tap, but the loudest sound is the scuff of their footsteps as they filter in, a ragged group made more ragged by their time fighting everything the corridors had to throw at them, just to get to this point.

Well. Some of their number are still probably unfairly cool and collected. C'est la magically unfair vie, right?

Sirius, for once, isn't one of the cool ones. He's tired, pale-faced. One of his hands grips to a deep bite at his shoulder, a clamp of pressure that's as much for the pain as it is anything else. The other has his wand out, illuminated--he mutters, and the light increases, blue and bright and strong. And while it does very little to penetrate the shadows that hang around them, as heavy as thick cloying drapes--the light does plenty to illuminate the scene before them. Smears of people, soft organic remains. The floor looks painted in places, glossy where the light hits it. Blood that hasn't dried.

"Merlin," Sirius says aloud. The croak of his voice is very faint. His throat feels very dry, and his eyes very hot. His wand arm stays steady. He doesn't flinch, and he doesn't wretch. He stands just inside the doors of the shuttle bay and stares around at the scene of silent carnage, an awful tableau.

When he steps forward, something crunches underfoot. His next step leads him into something soft, muffling his footstep. He looks down, and steps back, bloody footprints. Merlin.

"They can't all be dead."

[milagros]

The vines on Mila's back are simple ink again when she stands by Sirius, blood and bile under her feet, seeping between her toes; a conservation of strength. The time she will loose summoning the spell again against the possibility that her strength will fail if she refuses the respite when she can afford to take it - she carries her knives in her hands, flat of the blades pressed against her forearms, and draws from some inner well of bloody-mindedness to create that aggravating cool in contrast to the wizard beside her.

"They aren't," she says, head tilted as if she's listening to something from a long way off; she reaches out cautiously, not searching for more than a hint, wary of what she might find (draw back with her, draw toward them). "Something is still alive."

Whether it's the people they came here for or the things that killed them remains to be seen. She moves forward.

[xerampelinae]

"Where?"

Maybe that question will be answered for her, shortly, but it comes from Caprica, quiet and husky. She has her sidearm drawn and tucked at her side, the dark, thick fabric of her uniform doing much to disguise bruises and injury. Her face is marked up, a head wound dark at her pale hairline, the blood blotted away and a medical tape type seal adhered to injured skin.

Long limbed and silent footed, she roams forward into the darkness, her other hand drawn up to glare pocket flashlight, the stream of illumination doing very little to penetrate thick shadow. Her countenance is predatory, but when isn't it.

ERIK, MYSTIQUE, CHARLES, JOHANNA, FENRIS, LEVI, ETC. | NPC RESCUE

[patientiam]

[ Please comment below for NPC discovery and rescue. ]

[forgodssake]

[ It feels like they're too late.

Not for the first time, but certainly one of the few times, Charles drifts to step more towards the head of the pack as they approach the ravaged entry way into the so called ~secondary~ shuttle bay. They are likely to have learned of his new found woefully inadequate telepathic limits, probably the hard way, but that doesn't stop him prying ahead through the negative space, trying to shut out the dim chorus of the known minds around and behind him.

Armed, despite the fact he trusts basically everyone he is with to react faster and with more efficiency than he ever could, but nonetheless, he keeps handgun pointed in front of him, aimed for the floor.

He spies Erik out the corner of his eye, and shakes his head minutely. Nothing. Yet.

There's a moment when the next step forward has something damp and fleshy catch under the sole of his boot, and Charles backs up a short step. The gory bits of people paint dark shapes and sheen on the hard floor, and he lets out an uneasy exhale. ]

[sorrycharles]

[ Negative finding elicits no reaction -- certainly nothing like surprise. Erik’s left eye reflects probing lights like a spider’s egg in his skull, stark white against the grisly mangle of the rest of him. He isn’t carrying a flashlight of his own.

He smells like warm iron and oil and death, hair curled stiff with blood, everything tainted with shades of muddy, visceral red. Their latest mess is still drying in his sleeves, greasy ichor smeared dark over plate armor and the prow of his nose.

If he’s injured, it’s impossible to tell at a glance. He isn’t limping.

He hasn’t said much either, all but stone silent since the walls started moving.

A low pulse marks liftoff when he opens his hands out to rise from the floor, barely audible to human ears, distinct for those who know it. It maintains as a warping bass thrum, tangible in boot shanks and axes and iron fillings. He holds at ten feet or so, squinting into the dark, passively aware of however many bits and pieces of DUPRR glistening in what little light there is. ]

[anybodies]

[There are a couple scales skinned off Mystique's hip, and a knick scabbing over on the back of her right leg. She's been done bleeding for hours now, thanks to the concerted effort of both nanotechnology and her mutant DNA. Assuming the physics of mutant DNA work within her the same in this world as the other.

Of course, then she looks out into the corpse-strewn hangar, where 'corpse' is a rather generous term for the impoverished slurry of pieces and fluids scattered over the stretch of concrete floor. Mystique doesn't sway on her feet, her balance easy, but there's something slightly a little bit overkill, almost hypertonic about every little move she makes, her head slightly too brisk when she turns to look at the left, the jerk of her elbow too much when she tightens her grip on her knife.

She does have her knife back. It doesn't make her feel better.

Mystique doesn't think she's going into shock or anything, but her imagination freezes up on her when she tries to think of a voice to mimic, in calling out. She blinks hard, then defaults to glancing at Johanna, some of whose blood covering has been of slightly less ambiguous origin than Erik's. Charles can hear her thoughts sputter and start. Best to have walls at their backs. (And this one unbidden, not specifically conscious: Best not to be here at all, really.)]

INQUISITOR, CULLEN, SHEPARD, CRANE, ETC. | NPC RESCUE

[eripui]

[ Please comment below for NPC discovery and rescue. ]

[servator]

[ It had taken a lot to get there. Shepard stepped over some twisted beams, frowning down at the mess that the creatures in the halls had made. She'd lost touch with the network, with anyone who isn't currently at her side, but it had been worth it; they made it to the Shuttle Bay. ]

Careful. [ It's soft. She motions that it's clear to move on, assault rifle in hand. They'd come across all kinds on their trip to the previously-inaccessible area of the ship, had risked life and limb to get to these people.

It'd be interesting to see how it all played out. ]

Shit. [ She curses, nearly missing a torn-up body near her feet. ]

[propheretic]

[It feels like he's been in these corridors for ages. At least a full week, possibly more. He's not unused to feeling his way through darkness, but this terrain is not natural--and it's significantly more dense with monsters than even the worst cave he's come across.

Dasha tries not to let his flagging strength show, though. He rushes forward, his hands bright with Veilfire and the still-reacting Anchor, checking regularly that his people are still with him.

At length, the scene begins to change; begins to brighten up a little.

He's not glad for that, though. In his haste, and his sudden surge of excitement, he steps right into the mess of viscera on the floor.]

Oh--oh, no.

[troops]

[Cullen is not far behind Dasha, forcing himself to keep up despite his strength quickly ebbing from him. It feels like it's been days since they split from Dorian and Cole, only to meet up with Shepard and her ally not long after. Cullen hadn't minded- his primary focus is ensuring Dasha's safety, his secondary being to try and rescue those stranded in this... this place. If the other two had similar goals, then he'd gladly join up with them.

When the light begins to reach the debris, however, Cullen takes a step back, startled- though perhaps he shouldn't be. How many things had they fought on the way here?]

Maker...

[His hand moves for his blade, just in case whatever did this is still lingering. ]

We should search for survivors. Anyone who might still be alive.