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redstringtheories2022-03-01 09:51 am
TDM #9
(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.)
(cw: death, child death, semi-graphic description of injury, existential terror, memory manipulation (adding memories))
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, especially not with recent events that have transpired surrounding Dogtown. An employee gives you a number to call if anything truly dangerous happens and you've been left with another person at the trailhead. 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.
There is a body on the side of the path. From a distance, it's hard to tell who it might be… apart from someone who's made terrible life choices about where to take a break. You might find the body propped up against a boulder, lying in the snow, or even slumped on a bench. Approaching, though, brings into view… someone. Maybe someone you recognize vaguely. Do you know them from- Where exactly do you know them from? Or maybe it's a complete stranger, someone foreign in face and form.
The body is never the same for any groups of people who might happen upon it. One time, it's a young white man dressed in what seems to be parachute pants, a boombox fallen or resting with him. Another, it's an Hispanic person, their clothes reminiscent of something out of a western. Still others, it might be a little black girl, looking like she's cosplaying one of the original settlers for Gloucester. People of all different races, ages, genders, times, all beside the path. Some of them look to be obviously dead, their heads caved in or blood splattered across the path. Others, it's harder to tell. They might be someone who's passed out? A drunk who's wandered here from town and could need help.
The moment anyone touches them, though, the body crumbles, something made of ash that simply wipes itself away. And in its place, it leaves memory. The person who touches the body will find themselves reliving the last horrified moments of this person's life. They will know precisely how and when this person died. Every death has some component of agony or fear. No one found passed quickly or painlessly.
Everyone dies, and it is never so kind a thing as they might have hoped. Never.
(cw: altered mental states, breathing difficulties, imprisonment, victim-blaming)
Repairs are going about as well as they can be at ADI; the building still bears the scars of last month's attack but day to day matters slump back toward the status quo now that the acute crisis has passed. For a few days it actually seems as though the press of unending needs and obligations has abated, like a massive crushing stone lifted from one's back to allow a gasp of breath, leaving workers and residents reeling in the exhausted aftermath.
It doesn't last, but when the pressure intensifies once more it takes on yet another new form. Things will seem to be back to normal when suddenly you realize that the room in which you find yourself is getting smaller–or perhaps the air has grown stale, perhaps that's why it's suddenly so hard to breathe. You're trapped in here, locked in, locked away. Windows seem to shrink and fortify into slitted openings too tight for escape; what might have been an ordinary office door is now a heavy metal thing fortified with deadbolts.
They've locked you in; they've decided that you're not to move about freely, that you're a danger to others. Are you a danger to others? You must be; you must have done something to deserve this. The question of who 'they' are is one without an answer, a nebulous sense of them, the ones who call the shots, the ones who must be looking out for everyone. They don't speak to you; there's no chance to plead your case, only this miserable, tiny cell and your own guilt over something you must have done. You hear them passing by your door at times, keys jangling, footsteps heavy, but there's no hope of aid from them.
None of it is real. The rooms don't shrink; the doors and windows don't change. To someone not caught up in the illusion, it will seem as though those caught in its grip have gone into hysterics over nothing at all, insisting that they're trapped when all they need to do is open the door.
(cw: monsters in the dark, altered mental states, semi-graphic description of injury)
When the crushing claustrophobia finally abates, this time seemingly for good, the shadow woman makes her first appearance. She is seen only in darkness at nighttime, silhouetted in a doorway or lurking in an underpass. Turn on the lights, and there's nothing there–it must have been a trick of the light, the mind making connections out of something seen from the corner of one's eye.
Turn off the lights, though, and there she is again.
She's patient at first, toying with her prey. Lights on, and you're safe. Lights off and the figure returns, still and staring and something you can almost convince yourself you've somehow imagined. But leave the lights on too long, play with the light switch too many times, or watch her too closely, and her patience has an end. When she finally moves, she's fast, charging across a darkened street or a darkened room, the only expression visible on her face is the inhuman light in her eyes, and there is nothing left except to run for the nearest patch of brightness in the night. Maybe you even get away–flee to the circle of sickly light under a lamppost and she must halt at the edge of the darkness, unable to follow. She might circle, waiting for you to make a run for it, or she might disappear back into the night. Will you chance a sprint to the next pool of light?
For those she catches, there is pain. There are rending claws that leave her mark, bleeding, on her victims–but the pain does not end in death. It ends in madness. You may descend into a state beyond thought, mind disappearing into a panicked fugue from which you will retain no memories. Or you may believe yourself to be still fighting off the creature of the night and legions like her, using your environment to protect yourself, to stave off attack.
Those unaffected will see what is truly happening: victims of the creature run rampant in frenzied efforts to bring more and more darkness to the nighttime city. Wild-eyed and unaware, they may start at something as simple as unscrewing a lightbulb, or engage in something as complex as cutting power to entire buildings. Regular citizens of Gloucester fall victim along with the people of ADI and sabotage runs rampant through the city, but it seems that above all else, ADI itself is the target of these attempts to turn out the lights. Panic begins to spread throughout the city as the attacks continue night after night.
- ARRIVAL (March 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.
- The Road We All Must Travel (March 1 - 31): The bodies found can be photographed, but they'll turn up blurred. There's nothing that can be gleaned about the bodies from a distance, only by moving close and touching them. The bodies can be anyone from any time and any place, even other worlds. Characters might even see non-human races represented. In every case, the body will disappear when touched and characters will pick up the final moments of the person's life. Players are welcome to make these final moments anything they want. The person could have died by mundane or supernatural means, but they will have died a painful or terrifying death in some way.
- Prisoners of Consciousness (March 4 - 12): Episodes in which characters believe themselves to be imprisoned will occur exclusively on ADI property and in the Flophouse. The hallucinations may last for minutes or hours, though characters are likely to perceive time as though they were imprisoned much longer. Characters not affected by the hallucination may help pull others out of it by grounding them in reality, but it is also possible for them to be drawn into the hallucination themselves if they become frightened.
- A Trick of the Dark (Nights of March 12 - 15) While people who have been caught by the apparition seem to focus their attacks on ADI property, the shadow woman herself never appears within ADI offices or apartments. She may sometimes appear in the Flophouse, and frequently appears outdoors, in darkened hallways of local businesses, and in the homes of locals. ADI housing curfew at 11:00 PM each night is still in effect; characters who stay out later may crash at HQ but will not be let into the apartments (they may also be able to get into the Flophouse…if its residents are kind enough to take them in). Characters caught by the shadow woman will experience confusion, terror, and compulsion to sabotage lighting, particularly in and around ADI property, until dawn of the next day. Characters who attempt to fight the shadow woman will find that she fights back (and that any scratch from her claws still causes the fugue state); if they manage to pin her down she will dissipate into shadows.
Peter Parker | MCU | Far From Home
[He might have miscalculated.
Maybe a little.
One moment he's swinging through the air, the next Peter is crashing into the vents. He could have slowed his descent through the maintenance ducts a little if he reacted quickly enough, but the teenager is too thrown off by not being in the air. The cacophony of human body colliding with metal is more than a little alarming to anyone walking by.
Followed by a groan as he realizes that actually really hurt. Sure a rough landing makes him twinge, but he usually doesn't actively hurt like this from it.]
Okay... This sucks. What... is going on?
[Peter pushes himself up onto his elbows, just patting at the metal awkwardly. Likely spooking anyone below him in the process.]
3. Prisoners of Consciousness
[Peter doesn't even really remember how he got in the room or why he was coming in here. He stepped over the threshold and suddenly he was just trapped in a small dark space, a green mist rolling under foot. Unlike last time everything is closing in around him.
He can hear Beck laughing in the background. The teenager is tense, his expression sharp and angry. He's trying to keep his breathing steady. He clings to being angry to avoid the fear rolling down his back. He can't let Quentin Beck know he's afraid. He won't give the man the satisfaction.]
You can't trick me anymore, Beck! I know you! I know all your dumb tricks!
[The next poor person to walks into the room is going to have to duck a punch from Peter. Because the seventeen year old is panicking. He doesn't go near the door, too scared to logic his way in that direction. He stays firmly in the middle of the room, thinking he's trapped in a small shrinking corner.]
3
Is everyth-
[Is about all Jaskier gets out after opening the door before his face feels like it explodes with pain, stumbling back as a gush of blood spurts from his nose and lip where it cut on his teeth.]
Bloody hells!
[He brings his hand up to cover his face and frowns when his hand comes away stained red.]
Literally, even!
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He takes an uncertain step back, but thinks he's hit a wall behind himself. Being trapped just makes him puff up again.
Predictably, the teenager just doubles down. Doubling down on a mistake is never a bad idea!]
Look, I don't know what- you're doing, but I can fight you, Beck! These illusions won't trick me forever.
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He tries, though, keeps his voice as low and gentle as he can manage given the circumstances.]
It's okay- it's okay - I don't know who this Beck person is but I fully believe you can fight him - I'll hold the damn man down for you to beat if that's what you need. Just - Something is wrong here and you aren't thinking clearly and - look, see? I'm stepping back, you can come out of there.
[his free hand raised to show it's empty, Jaskier pointedly steps back from the doorway, giving enough room for Peter to be able to leave without getting within his reach if he needs.]
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He tries to look for Jaskier, but just keeps looking past him as he moves in a cautious circle.] I- but I can't?
[The realization the room is getting smaller just makes Peter's breath catch, his eyes widening as he tights up further.]
I can't- I can't get out.
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[Jaskier is VERY good about sounding and being fully confident even when he has absolutely no reason to be. This kid is obviously caught under some kind of illusion spell. Shit, he could really use Geralt right now. He'd even take Yennefer.]
What's your name? I'm Jaskier - [Not Beck.] and I'll get you out of this.
[Though he's staying outside of striking range while he tries to figure out exactly how he's supposed to do that.]
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3
On the other hand, she hadn't so much lost the illusion that headquarters are a safe zone as never developed it in the first place, and if there's one thing her training and the lifestyle that's followed has gifted her with, it's excellent reflexes.
So she rocks back a pace, head turning aside from the punch, and it turns what might have otherwise been a head-ringing blow into a glancing strike. It still sends a sharp burst of pain radiating out along her cheek and up into her sinuses, but it won't be anything an ice pack and a day or two spent wearing concealer can't handle.]
What the fuck?
[It's flat and more exasperated than truly angry, if only because she's been here long enough to know that there's a better than decent chance that whatever this is, it's the fault of one of the myriad of horrors desperate to set up a summer home in Gloucester.
It's always bullshit o'clock somewhere.]
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Peter's expression is decidedly unfocused, his gaze seeming to flick over Yelena opposed to at her at all. He's just a teenager in baggy clothing starting a fist fight in a random room.
Perfectly fine.]
Get away from me!
[He spits back out as threateningly as he can manage.] Don't get near me!
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He isn't very good, from her perspective. He's good enough to hurt some of the more fragile amongst ADIs conscripts - or to get himself hurt by one of the more volatile.]
Stop that.
[It's admonishing, like she's speaking to a kitten that's decided to bat at something it shouldn't.]
I don't know what you're seeing, but I'm not your enemy.
[She doesn't expect him to listen. It's never that easy. It's more for his benefit later, once whatever's possessing him - and damn, does she hope that's not literal - wears off.]
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Peter thinks he's fighting smoke, some billowing form of Mysterio trying to corner him. A distant logical part of himself knows fist fighting smoke won't help, but the anger and panic make his line of thought erratic.]
I- huh? You aren't... him? [Yelena seems to register vaguely, just for a moment before the hallucination makes him jolt backwards again, his back colliding with nothing at all. Though he acts like he's hit something given the way he whirls around.
His attempt to sound threatening earlier is ruined by the fear in his voice.] Stop it!
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[The deadpan delivery is perhaps a little bit unfair, but it's also virtually instinct.
The brief flicker of humour dies almost instantly when Peter wheels around like he's just collided with something in the open air - and while it isn't impossible that there's some invisible menace present at the same time that he's so clearly seeing things, it isn't particularly likely, either.
So: trapped, or surrounded, with one main focal figure. Someone he knows, or knew? It seems likely, given his reactions.
She can work with that. Maybe.]
I'm not doing anything. Breathe. Think. You need to try to be calm. You've dealt with this before, haven't you?
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1
Because of his own experience though, he doesn't automatically assume something spooky is up. But he definitely considers this as he stops under the noise, having been on his way to the ADI tech labs.
He glances up at the sound, scratching the stubble of his beard as he raises an inquisitive brow. ]
Kay, knock once for "I'm a spook lookin' to eat your face" or twice for "shitty anticlimactic entrance". If you're a really big rat and or a raccoon then uh, disregard this!
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Then he knocks twice. He can follow directions occasionally.
A fairly young, be it muffled voice speaks after a moment from the vents overhead.]
I really wish I was a raccoon or a rat right now. I'd probably be fine with landing like that.
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[ Jerry begins to walk down the hall, towards a grate that could probably be kicked or pried open. ]
There's a way out over here, just follow my silky smooth voice!
[ His voice is certainly not silky smooth but you get the idea... ]
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He will be embarrassed about it later. He just starts following the voice since his only option is to stay in the vent.
He's relieved when the grate comes into view. Jerry can likely see the teenager's gloved fingers poking out of the grate as he tries to just yank it up.
Peter quickly realizes he's lacking in amplified strength right now. He definitely rattles the grate very hard. Peter just sounds confused when he speaks again.]
...Normally this is easier?
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Nice. I know a gang of raccoons that probably own a gun, those intrepid little bastards.
[ Not that there's anything little about them. Especially Rocco.
Once he makes it to the grate Jerry watches expectantly as gloved fingers grip the metal and attempt to pry it open. ]
Huh. [ "Normally"? This guy must get stuck in air vents a lot. ] Okay, let me try something. [ Jerry is just going to lean down and yank off his shoe. ]
I'm about to yeet this shoe to your freedom so uh, might wanna scoot back a bit!
uses this as an excuse to make peter say yeet
e x c e l l e n t
gotta acknowledge his suits eyes be freaky
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im so sorry for him
don't apologize, i love him
3
[She opens the door to see a young man looking absolutely terrified. Donna's brows furrow.]
Are you- hey!
[So much for stepping toward him. She retreats swiftly to the door.]
Did you just try to punch me? Stop that!
[Donna is so done with people hitting her after the unintended spar with Callisto.]
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Why? Why- Why are you doing this?! Beck! When I find you! [He tries to sound threatening, but it comes off more frightened than anything else.]
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Hey! Hey... kiddo--[That would piss a teen off and grab his attention, right?]--look over here. Look at me. There's no one here but us, and my name's not Beck. It's Donna. Can you tell me yours?
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I don't- [Congrats Donna the use of kiddo does make Peter confused at least. He's just tense and disoriented. He bumps into the table, which seems to stop him.] Kiddo?
[He's still looking in the wrong direction, but that is progress.]
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[Activating teenage scorn for the win?]
What are you doing, messing about in here? It's a school day, you know?
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/gently screams
[ So Strange told him everything. Tony knows that somehow, by some miraculous circumstance that he isn't allowed to know the details about for some reason, they've won. Thanos is gone, everyone is back, don't ask questions just accept that something good happened for once, et cetera et cetera. Of course that doesn't necessarily mean this Peter is his Peter; he could have come from any point in time or any of the apparent infinite number of universes this place decides to use the eyedropper tool on, but that doesn't matter. He's here, and Tony is not letting him go again.
That might turn out to be a little trickier than he might have initially thought, though; not only is Tony quite suit-less at the moment but he's also frail, visibly thin and sickly as he languishes in the recovery process from the leg of their space adventure that Peter hadn't tagged along for. And yeah, okay, Peter was already stronger than Tony before, but now the scales are tipped even more in the kid's favor as he throws a punch in Tony's direction.
Thankfully, years of self-defense training kick in enough for Tony to dodge the blow, half because he'd been expecting the kid to panic much like he had himself when showing up in this place. Something else is wrong, though. He could very well be hearing things, but he could have sworn he heard the kid say Beck.
First things first, though. ]
Hey! Hey, kid-- Relax. It's me. [ He throws up both hands in surrender, watching Peter's face carefully. He looks...older. Not just age-wise, either. Something's different in the kid's eyes and Tony doesn't like it. ]
screams intensify
His eyes just keep glazing right over Tony. The blackness he's seeing keeping him disoriented.]
Would you just stop it!? [He spits out, taking a much harder swing at the air. His usual careful consideration of how much strength he's using is gone. He just wants to hurt Beck for jabbing at this wound.] Stop pretending you're him! You can't hurt me with him!
[A fairly obvious lie given how riled up Peter is from hearing Tony's voice in the first place.]
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Kid, listen to me-- [ He keeps backing up as Peter advances, and he's going to run out of room to cross unless he thinks fast and talks faster. Thankfully he's good at that. ] Ask me something only I'd know the answer to! Come on, whatever this is, you can beat it!
[ His voice shakes and so do his hands and honestly if the verbal approach doesn't work, Tony might just reveal himself as the genuine article just by having a full-scale panic attack right the fuck here. Not a lot of people can imitate one of those. ]
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He can hear Beck laughing at him. A jeering kind of laugh that hurts. He's so gullible, he's so stupid. He shouldn't have even believed Beck.
He squeezes his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. He turns the anger on himself, grasping at his hair as he tries to make sense of what is happening.]
Why are you- even doing this!? You didn't know him! [His voice cracks slightly. Hearing Tony being emotional just makes his anger break into something pained and raw.
Is this going to be the only way he'll hear Tony again? Quentin Beck mocking both of them? The thought completely guts the teenager, making his hands shake.] What do you even want to hear!?
I know it's my fault, I know!
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belatedly for both of these two, cw: anxiety, all the anxiety
Tony literally has a blanket cw for anxiety in his Permissions lol. RIP.
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