TDM #4

[apocalypsehowmods]

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➥ Arrival

(cw: potential for severe disorientation/vertigo, claustrophobia, arachnophobia, body horror)

It happens in the blink of an eye. You may have been asleep. You may not have. You may have stepped through a door or turned a corner. You may have seen a flicker of something at the corner of your vision and turned to look. Or maybe you didn't.

It doesn't matter. What matters is that you find yourself somewhere entirely new and entirely unfamiliar. The arrival point is not always the same. (If you're lucky, it might be a canteen or an open office. If you're not, well... you aren't claustrophobic, are you? Or arachnophobic. These ducts do seem to be a bit cobwebby.) There is no one waiting for you but you don’t seem to be alone, either. Even in a janitor’s closet or the bathroom, you’ll find at least one person who seems to be just as out of place as you are.

If characters have arrived in a location devoid of NPCs, they may want to work together to figure out what is going on... or to avoid their 'kidnappers.' If you’ve arrived in the middle of the entry foyer or the gym, there may well be a few people who startle a bit at your arrival and try to approach (or discreetly leave the room... where are they going?). Will you cooperate or fight? Do you even understand what they're saying? You might need to find a translator, if you’re not immediately willing to follow a stranger.

After characters follow their new hosts (or are forcibly taken in) there will be a limited tour and the chance to settle in at the ADI-provided housing. (Do you enjoy living with strangers? Well. It's a new situation to navigate, anyway.)

➥ Toying With You

(cw: creepy toys, possible violence, supernaturally induced emotions)

Weird things happen in Dogtown, everyone knows it. The Apocalypse Disruption Initiative (ADI) is not above taking advantage of that to test out the waters for its newest arrivals. They're not looking to send anyone to their death, though. That's far too much paperwork, you'd been assured with a wink from the employee who'd directed you to the park trailhead. You've been left with another person. Maybe they're a new arrival, as well, or a more seasoned 'veteran.' Either way, you're together for the next while and you've been asked to find and record any paranormal activity in the park. You have your phones and any other equipment you might have brought with you. Those who succeed in documenting anything peculiar will receive a $100 reward to be used as they see fit.

This month...characters who enter the area will eventually stumble upon...a very interesting sight. Take enough confusing, branching paths, and they’ll find a variety of toys abandoned in...a variety of ways.

Some, reminiscent of the happenings of the past month, can be found dangling from branches, or from contraptions of sticks and string staked into the ground. Others might be found arranged in patterns...or simply discarded. Some appear to be tied up. Perhaps surprisingly, there is no evidence of the destruction of these toys. Some may appear to be disintegrating but that’s age, not malice. There are old toys and new toys to be found. Maybe it’s just a prank, or an art installation?

Nothing seems to happen to anyone who ventures to touch the toys. At least...not right away. However, any character who does decide to touch a toy will start to feel like they just don’t have...enough. It might manifest as being particularly possessive over things or people they feel are theirs...or in coveting what they don’t already have (be it material or immaterial). These urges will fade away on their own in time, but who knows what might happen before they do?

➥ Pick a Pocket

(cw: mention of vehicular collisions, supernaturally-induced sleep/fatigue)

There is an ethereal music spreading throughout town. It started in the graveyards last month, but now it's spreading, even as collisions and other accidents continue to pile up. Tourists and locals, alike, will find keeping awake incredibly difficult as October rolls in with a rumble of thunder and a splash of rain. Even caffeine doesn't seem to help much with the problem. The music is only just there, just at the edge of awareness, and it's a song that you know. You can't entirely place it, but it's maddeningly familiar.

The local gangs seem to have taken note of the situation, and have taken to sending out their seemingly more resilient members for some mischief. Specifically, pickpocketing those they might find sleeping or less alert than usual. You might be half-falling asleep on a bus when a hand reaches into your pocket or your bag. You might witness the thief in action, stealing from someone else. Or maybe you're someone keen to take advantage of the situation, yourself. There's money to be made for someone with even moderately light fingers when the target is snoring on a park bench or zoning out while sitting at a cafe.

There doesn't seem to be an even effect to the music. It impacts some people in the same vicinity more than others with seemingly no rhyme or reason. The one constant that does appear for those digging deeply, is that ADI HQ and the ADI housing complex seem to be less affected by the music. It can still sometimes be heard, but it's not nearly as prominent as it is throughout the rest of the city.

➥ Sleeper's Paradox

(cw: supernaturally-induced sleep/fatigue, mild memory loss)

For as much as everyone seems to be sleeping lately, it does not seem to be restful sleep. In fact, people dozing off regularly will find themselves even more exhausted and irritable than usual. Again, this seems to be far more pronounced for anyone straying too far from ADI's properties for extended periods.

Another feature of this latest round of supernatural irritation is that even those who tend to remember their dreams may have trouble with that. You might remember that the dreams weren't pleasant, but that's about it. The specifics are as elusive as the source of the singing.

Festive planning for the end-of-the-month Halloween Party is in full swing at ADI, and characters may find themselves strong-armed by Pam and other HR personnel, in spite of any grumpiness and exhaustion, into helping with some part of it. Will you be assisting with making decorations? Buying supplies for the kitchens? Helping those who might not understand Halloween to find the perfect costume? Everyone is feeling a little out of sorts, and having trouble focusing, so there's some particular pushing to spread tasks out to everyone possible so it doesn't fall on a single individual. Anyone who helps will be compensated for their time, and they might even get some extra cash to buy their own fancy costume or preferred food for the party.

➥ Mod Notes

• ARRIVAL (Oct 1 - 31): Two people will always arrive in the same general location together. Arrivals occur throughout the early month, not all on the same day or in the same place. Arrivals are not naturally fluent in English/other languages immediately upon arrival. Characters may attempt to evade capture, but they will eventually be snagged before they can leave the building. PC's already in-game are more than welcome to interact with and try to guide new PC's to get them oriented. Please refer to the Arrival page for details regarding the arrival and onboarding process.
  
  
• Toying With You (Oct 1 - 31): Characters who physically interact with abandoned toys will find themselves overwhelmed by feelings of jealousy and/or possessiveness. Depending on how much interaction they have with the toys, these feelings might be stronger or last longer. (Anyone who, for example, removes a toy from Dogtown will probably find themselves helpless NOT to act on the feelings.) Strength of feeling and duration of time is up to player discretion. The source of these feelings could be anything, including the toys themselves. The toys can be destroyed but are not clumped all in one spot. It may take some searching to find them all.
  
  
• Pick a Pocket (Oct 1- 25): Characters are welcome to experience, enact, or stop a crime. You may find yourself victim, hero, or perpetrator. The number of people asleep or having trouble staying awake will increase the closer you get to graveyards and seem to decrease the closer you get to ADI-owned buildings. The decrease in sleepiness around ADI buildings does not extend to anyone living at Bonnie's. Characters may find themselves falling asleep in the middle of trivial or important tasks, perhaps even in the middle of conversation. This is a supernatural sleep, but for the moment, it seems easy enough to wake someone up with a loud noise or a shake. Or, if you're feeling particularly vindictive, a splash of water to the face.
  
  
• Sleeper's Paradox (Oct 1-25): Characters are welcome to take part in whatever party planning they wish to for ADI's Halloween party. Everyone affected by the drowsiness that's taken over the city will find that they cannot remember the specific nature of their dreams; although, they will have the sense that they did have them, and they were unpleasant. The effects of the fatigue may affect other memories or result in increased irritability, and decreased focus and reaction times. Characters may find themselves more prone to error than usual, even those who are typically known for being on-point at all times.
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Comments

[fightinginfinity]

[ Oh hey it's the wizard. Okay, couple things: Strange's last impression of Tony may indeed have been that perverse quasi-religious image of the universe's Savior that everyone on that battlefield had gotten (which was really just a burnt-up husk of a man destroyed in an instant by something humans were never meant to touch, never meant to know existed), lying upon rubble like it was the altar and he the sacrificial lamb, but that's not what he's getting here. This Tony looks close to death, certainly--but he's fighting it very very hard, instead of embracing something that was, in an ironic choice of words, inevitable. Tony is far, far from being there, Stephen. But that's a conversation for when he isn't dying.

There's also that other thing, though--which is that Tony very much saw you die, Doc, saw you disintegrate down to atoms or ashes or fucking space dust or whatever the kid had turned into oh god the kid is gone he lost the kid--

Tony's brain is kicking back into gear and speeding through all of these thoughts at its usual breakneck pace before Strange even completes his first sentence, and immediately his hand darts out and seizes the man's sleeve with sudden but rapidly fading strength. ]

Focus on-- you. You? I saw you-- [ His grip loosens and falls. Fuck he's weak. He's just together enough to register that he can't handle a full-blown panic attack right now; he'll pass out. He's probably going to pass out anyway. Suddenly that seems to be his biggest concern right now--staying fucking conscious long enough to ask Strange how. ]

[sorser]

[No, that realization had struck him once the shock had unhooked the majority of its claws from his mind — the injuries were not of a man who had so much energy ripping through his body that every single atom should have been obliterated, that it was a kindness the resulting death was quiet. These are the ailments of an emaciated man, one showing signs of starvation — water and oxygen. It’s a different kind of death’s doorstep, the sort that Stephen has a chance of dragging him away from.

The implications are heavy, obvious, shearing away the possibilities that had flooded his mind until only one remains: this is a matter of mismatched timelines, at two very, very disparate points.

Tony’s grip is tight, but Stephen doesn’t fight against it. If it anchors him enough to keep panic at bay, or to keep him seated, then he doesn’t care.]

—turn to dust? [He finishes that statement for him.] Not an experience I’d like to repeat again, so I’m banking on the fact that I can stay alive and whole in this universe. Surprise.

[Helpful. But so much is difficult in this one moment, too much noise stirring in his thoughts, trying to process what this means now. The heavy knot in his stomach is thoroughly unwanted.]

You’re understandably confused, so let me give you the short version: this world has taken individuals from different universes and plopped them right down into this one. That includes me and you — and timelines? That’s not much of a concern, apparently, so if I had to guess, you’re from my past, and I’m from your future.

With me so far?

[fightinginfinity]

[ The problem with Tony Stark's brain is that it works whether his body can keep up with it or not, and right now it's drinking down the onslaught of information like Tony himself would half a bottle of Kentucky Straight Bourbon before every corporate event he'd used to attend. Different times, different universes--yeah, multiverse theory is as old as shit, it's nothing earth-shattering, but Tony needs specifics. Or at least, his brain does. His body needs to not be dying. ]

Where. [ Let's get that squared away first. Keep the information flowing while Tony is still--conscious? alive? He isn't sure what's waiting for him once his eyes close again so he fights fights fights with everything he still has, limiting his words so as to not waste unnecessary energy. ]

[sorser]

[Information — information is easy, at least the basics are simple enough, and Stephen can keep that spigot running.

But he’s going to take Tony’s pulse while he’s at it, one hand turning his wrist over, the other seeking the tick of his radial artery.]

Gloucester, Massachusetts — some version of it, anyway. You’re in the medical department of the Apocalypse Disruption Initiative HQ.

I’m sure you can make some exciting inferences from just that alone.

[fightinginfinity]

[ In some distant, slightly hysterical part of his mind Tony reflects on the first impression he'd had of the good Doctor--which had been that he was a dick, and probably had the worst bedside manner ever, and that his wizard tricks weren't even that cool stop looking so impressed Bruce--and compares it to his current feelings, which he thinks are supposed to be somewhere in the vicinity of Rage right now. Rage at handing over the Stone to spare him, him of all goddamn people, the dude who thought Strange was a dick with the worst bedside manner ever whose wizard tricks weren't even that cool. It was the worst call ever. Tony is the one who should be dust right now, while Peter Parker goes on and lives and grows and thrives, what the fuck, Strange.

And he'd say all that, but, you know. Dying and stuff. ]

That sounds ridiculous. [ He means the Apocalypse Disruption thing. It's a dumb name. So is Massachusetts, in all fairness, but. But hang on. Massachusetts. That--that's on Earth. He's on Earth? Hang on--

Where he'd finally been lying down, subdued just enough for medical people to do medical things, Tony tries to jerk upwards again. He has to. He's on Earth, that means he's home and he's gotta know, he's gotta see who's left, gotta tell everyone--tell her that he's alive-- ]

Can't be here. Doc-- [ Spots in his vision. ] Let me. Get me outta here. [ Ah, the beeping. That'll be the ol' heart rate rising again. ]

[sorser]

[The thing with once having been a surgeon is that, bedside manner? Not that high on his list of priorities, not when the majority of his interactions with his patients were when they were under anesthetic. Stephen never had to perfect the art, never cared to back in those days — and he hasn’t quite gotten the hang of it now, never mind the resolved issues of hubris.

But maybe that’s what’s needed in this case, when Tony jolts up as though zapped by an electric wire. Medical machinery beeps, his IV strains; Stephen loses both his grip and heartbeat count, which would have been a moot point it seems, anyway.

The man’s emotional — understandable. But absolutely unneeded right now, a detriment to his already delicate health, and Stephen’s not having any of it.]

The state that you’re in? You’re not going anywhere.

[Being “bedside” at least means that he’s a hurdle in Tony’s path to freedom. Not that he expects the man has enough energy to make it past the front doors in this state.]

You’re not going to find anyone else. [He cuts off any retort, already guessing at his intent. It isn’t completely true—there’s Wanda, Loki, Barnes, and someone named Yelena that’ve been stolen from their universe, too—but now’s not the time for extra complications.] Didn’t you hear what I just said? Different universe. A version of our Earth. There aren’t any familiar faces you’ll find here — not natively.

[fightinginfinity]

[ Yes he heard what you said, Dad; haven't you been hearing his internal monologue? Tony Stark has the Usain Bolt of brains sprinting around inside his skull and it has already calculated the infinitesimal but non-negligible probability that, given the presence of him and Strange in this exact location at the same time and how both of them retain memories of the Snap, there could be other people he knows here and he has to go to them.

At least it had done that...until Doctor Killjoy here just straight up shoots that shit down in one instantaneous and very unpleasant fell swoop, so who knows, maybe the guy is a mind reader of some sort.

Tony wants to keep fighting Stephen because he's mad at him--or, more accurately, he's mad at himself and doing that thing where he copes with enormous guilt by lashing out at the nearest quasi-acceptable physical target--but the dude doesn't seem the type to lie, no matter how desperately Tony wishes he was right now. So the information is an unexpected wallop to the chest, one that has Tony sagging against Stephen like a rag doll, the adrenaline rush that was pulling his strings gone in an instant. ]

Shit. [ It's a tiny word, barely audible, and the next one is even quieter. ] Shit. [ He blinks rapidly. ] M'gonna...

[ Pass out. He's gonna pass out, Stephen. And he does, right there, against your chest. Do with this what you will. ]

[sorser]

[Shit, is about the right sentiment. It neatly sums up both the situation in which Tony hails from, and the one he now finds himself in. And when his body catches up to that whirring mind, calling a time-out, Stephen can’t help but feel a little relieved; for both his sake and Stark’s.

This is, when all is said and done, a very awkward situation — how does one broach the subject of the future he comes from, and how they all got there? He can’t afford to, that’s the simple truth, and he’s glad this elephant in the room’s been temporarily tranquilized when Tony slumps against him.

Stephen holds him steady from falling over, leashing back a sigh from slipping through his teeth. His priority should lie in stabilizing him, not the moral quandaries of omitting critical information, and it’s easy enough to focus on the former by pushing the latter away. He has work to do.

An indeterminable amount of time passes. When Tony awakens again, he’s in the facsimile of a hospital room, in a facsimile of a hospital bed — what passes for it in ADI medical, at least; the rooms they have to spare.

No IVs hooked up to him this time, no machines beeping in-time with a heartbeat. A good sign, generally; even if Stephen, seated in an uncomfortable chair in the corner of the room, seems like an ill-portent like all doctors do when a patient is coming to.

Hands clasped together, elbows leaning on his knees, he pipes up when Tony’s consciousness bleeds back into him, as though he’d been waiting.]

Welcome back. How do you feel?

[fightinginfinity]

[ Honestly, thank god Tony was fully unconscious for that uncomfortably-close bit, because depending on his level of awareness relative to the amount of morphine in his system he'd have either bitch-slapped Strange across those frustratingly chiseled cheekbones of his or made an obnoxiously flirtatious joke in an attempt to embarrass Dr. Stoic-and-Surly-Pants in front of his colleagues. Possibly both! But no, his body had decided it was fed the fuck up with his stubbornness and force-shut him down without saving his work. Which, okay, fair enough.

It does make for a bit of a lag when he boots back up though. Checking memory, checking, checking... Oh yeah, he's in this fucking place. Where is this again? The Northeast? Inconvenient. So's this hospital bed, but at least Tony isn't wired up this time; too many unpleasant memories of caves and tubes jammed miles up his nose, so, thanks Stephen.

Tony doesn't spring up this time, proving to everyone everywhere that he sometimes learns from his mistakes. He instead rests his bleary gaze on Strange, squinting for a second in mild bewilderment. Sure the man's a doctor and, like, duty to his patient and whatnot, but...he stayed. That's nice. ]

Like I've just spent two weeks slowly losing oxygen while drifting in the wasteland of outer space. Like I took a planet to the face. Like I'm starving to death.

[ Literally. Not that thing people say an hour after they skipped out on lunch at work to play fantasy football or something. At least Tony thinks people do that; what the fuck does he know? Anyway, Strange knows this, knows how bad he is. Tony doesn't have to explain. He doesn't have to explain about Thanos either, about their fight, about the Snap; Strange knows about all that too. Tony feels more of that...soft, grateful feeling, showing its ass again, directed at a guy he's supposed to be mad at no less. Gross. ]

[sorser]

[Yes, he stayed, but don't get too sentimental about it, Tony. Stephen hasn't been sitting here the entire time with bated, worried breath; he couldn't afford to, his duties in medical pulling him to others who had freshly arrived, or those who had appointments scheduled well ahead of time. But he could estimate just about when Tony would begin to stir, guess at a window of time when he should be present in his room, and he wasn't off the mark. So here he is, and there Stark is, being about as sharp-tongued as one would expect, no matter the state of his health.]

Understandable. [And yes, he knows just how Tony should be feeling, but it's reasonable to ask -- and part and parcel the protocol.]

You were starving to death, but fortunately, you're in a much less precarious state compared to when you arrived. For now, the priority is that you stay hydrated the best you can.

[Here, he stands, crossing over to the chart clipped to the foot of Tony's bed.]

And... [He flips over a page, as though he can't already guess at what it says.] Obviously, you'll need to replenish the nutrients your body's lost over time. Slowly and steadily, though; ADI has a nutritionist on their staff, I'm sure we can arrange for them to swing by before you're released.

[fightinginfinity]

[ Look dude, Tony is still instinctively shocked whenever people give a fraction of a shit about him in any capacity, whether that's in a personal or professional sense or anything in between. It's like his coffee addiction; long-enduring and impossible to kick no matter how hard he tries. So accept his gratitude, asshole. Telepathically. Or something.

And he'll endure this chitchat about his health or whatever, which is something he tends to not give a shit about, which is another hard habit to break. He has a lot of those. Anyway, see how good he's being? He'll even let Strange talk about a nutritionist of all goddamn things, just to get to the end of that road as quickly as possible so he can start asking the real questions. Because that warm fuzzy feeling is toast the second reality starts to finally, really sink in.

Oh, you had other patients, Doc? Too goddamn bad. ]

Great. Will do, Doc. I'll leave you five stars on Healthgrades. Now sit your wizard ass back down and tell me [ and here he starts counting on his fingers in a supremely bitchy fashion, in case you forgot how much of a bitch he is, you're welcome Stephen ] A. more about the disparate timelines and how they're the reason you're here in scrubs instead of a pile on a space rock somewhere, since you kind of glazed over that before, B. why we're in Massachusetts of all fucking places, and, most importantly, C. why in the universe's goddamn 50% reduction in its overall population of organic lifeforms did you give the Time Stone away like that?!

[sorser]

[And there it is again, the inevitable: Tony’s questions, quick-fire. Some of them sharp as lances that would shred past his otherwise practiced facade, a doctor’s unflappable expression so rarely affected.

A muscle twitches in his jawline as he sets it, clipping the chart back onto the foot of Tony’s bed. Despite being told to sit his “wizard” ass down, he doesn’t feel compelled to do more than stand and give the man a steady, assiduous look.]

I had to.

[To give away the Time Stone was not a flippant, careless choice. The weight of half of the living universe might have been burdened on his shoulders in that moment, and though he can understand the anger foisted his way, it’s unwarranted. Though Stephen was certain of his decision—one that he would make again if he had to—it wasn’t easy. He isn’t heartless; not anymore.]

A million different outcomes, and only one where we come away victorious. That option A, as you put it, with me standing here right now instead of existing as a pile of space dust, is only possible because I gave it away.

[He crosses his arms, scarred fingers pressing into the skin of his forearms, tension manifesting in the broken bits of his body, as it always does.]

A lot’s happened between what you last remember and the point in time I come from, back in our world. Five years later, and everyone who was lost to us returned. And insofar as I can tell, all of that is completely unrelated as to why we’re in Gloucester today.

[And thus he stands and… waits, really, for Tony’s reaction, weighing the possibilities in his head. Incredulous? Angry, still? Disbelieving? Relieved?]