03 ▒ EVENT: STRELA OUTPOST ▒ ASSIMILATION

[ataraxites]

CHARACTERS: Ensemble production!
LOCATION: Strela Outpost.
WARNINGS: Mind horror, hivemindery, etc.
SUMMARY: Communal brainwashing.
NOTES: Divided by locations; players are free to indicate which day/stage, and to begin new subthreads wherever they'd like!

Looks like the authorities have apprehended you and have brought you in for processing. After being forced to wait in the waiting room, you're brought to the assimilation room - a terrible white cell, where you're trapped for hours, sentenced to be slowly stripped of your individuality.

Comments

[showbizpanache]

K-Kurt.

[He sways a bit, and fears he might throw up.]

Let's go. Let's-- [Oh god he's dizzy. He feels like he might fall at any moment.]

[unsoldiered]

[It's okay--Alex isn't much better. But most of his is physical. Unfortunately. This seems to be a reoccurring problem for him. All he can really do is lead Kurt somewhere emptier, giving him a moment.]

Not just yet. Compose yourself first. I know you want to book it, but if you're still out of it, you'll have a harder time making it back.

[He pauses.]

I'm Alex. I'll keep your path clear when we're out, alright? But you've gotta gather everything you got for this, because now's as good a time as ever to be one of the brave ones.

[showbizpanache]

O-okay.

[He struggles for breath, and manages to steady himself just slightly--at least the point where he isn't hysterically sobbing anymore.]

Okay. Let's go. [His hands are still clinging to the jacket, but he looks like he might actually be able to walk now. Maybe.]

[unsoldiered]

[Alex is alright with that, though he hoped Kurt was calm enough to know he'd have to let go; gotta be able to jab a guy in the neck with the cattle prod if need be.] Stay close. I won't let them take you.

[Off we go. Keep up, Kurt--pace like you mean it, because this might be the only shot we get to get the hell outta' here.]

[showbizpanache]

[Kurt just nods and stays close to Alex as they start moving. The nausea is churning through him, and that vague squeezing sensation in his brain has yet to let up-- But his instincts are kicking in, screaming at him to survivesurvivesurvive, to get out of here, to see Blaine again.]

Wh-where are we going?

[unsoldiered]

The shipyard.

[The moment they hit the outside, where all the other droned zombies march, there were eyes glancing over to them. He keeps to the corners and emptier pathways, though, looking carefully around the corner for the policing men in white.]

I'm hoping the shuttles are ready, but if they're not, you'd be better off hiding on one of the abandoned ships there until they show up. The people here don't seem to bother with them.

[They don't have much choice here. With their state of mind right now, remaining in the heart of the place would spell disaster.]