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

LATE hope you don't mind.

[bottlearum]

"Plans don't always work, luv." Jack Sparrow says as he sits across from her. He'd been there for a while, inspecting burns of his own. Never before had he experienced such weapons. Cattle prods, in his experience, were more likely to cause people to bleed than cause burns.

But hey. He had never said he was an expert in space technology. Or technology in general. So he hadn't been able to do anything but wait, poking at the various burns and wounds he had on his person.

[galacticheroine]

"Don't I know it," Shepard frowns, pushing herself up and idly wiping at the blood running down the side of her face before looking at the man sitting across from her. She notices the burns, and it seems like most of the people around have burns in some capacity or another. At least people aren't going along quietly with whatever's going on in this place, and while this is obviously a dangerous situation, it's also a relief to see that as passive as some of the ship's reluctant crew have been attempting to be, they're still not willing to be quietly herded.

"It'd be nice if they went right once in a while, though."

[bottlearum]

Oh, Jack Sparrow was not passive aggressive in the least. He was very active, and he had fought, he had run. He gave his all against those strange people. But even Jack Sparrow could be bested sometimes, and it was the sheer number that had brought him down.

He had killed a few along the way and he had a nice stash of stolen items waiting on one of the shuttles. And now his mind was set on escape. Escape was a lot harder on space ships instead of regular ships. There was technology involved, and technology wasn't something he understood on the best of days, let alone in pressing situations. He could break a lock, but he couldn't hack a door.

"Aye. 's why I don't bother makin' plans. I improvise."