TDM #13

[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.) You might even arrive in a section of building that has been demolished, leaving a pit of rubble open to the sky–hope you're up on your tetanus shots! 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. The one exception is the demolition zone off what used to be one corner of the building: it seems the security teams are keeping a particularly close eye on that area to document new arrivals and bring them in quickly.

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.)

➥A Face For Radio

(cw: trypophobia, phonophobia, air raid siren in link)

Weird things happen in Dogtown, everyone knows it. And the weird things have been getting worse. Much worse. The rise in dangerous rather than merely uncomfortable or startling phenomena has put an end to ADI's use of Dogtown as a testing ground for new recruits. Under ADI's advisement, the City of Gloucester has officially and indefinitely closed Dogtown to the public, and work is ongoing to construct barriers around the entire park to prevent trespassing. Dogtown's borders are now patrolled by Gloucester law enforcement as well as ADI employees from the Investigations and Security divisions, who document phenomena visible from outside its borders and actively keep people out. New arrivals who volunteer for the work may still find themselves dropped off outside the borders of Dogtown in order to beef up patrols and help document paranormal activity while receiving an introduction to the kind of work ADI does. An employee will give you a GPS device where you need only press a button to alert ADI there is severe danger and someone needs to come help you right away, explicitly instruct you not to actually enter Dogtown, and leave you with another person at the edge of the park. 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 record any paranormal activity visible from outside the park. Those who succeed in documenting anything peculiar will receive a $100 reward to be used as they see fit, but those who are caught entering Dogtown in pursuit of such proof will be reprimanded and receive no reward.

This month, everything is quiet. Peaceful, even! With Dogtown closed up and the hand creatures ostensibly dealt with, it seems the breeches caused by low manpower are finally dealt with.

And then the phones start acting up.

For some, it starts low and builds, a wailing warning issued from every cell phone on the block for stretches of seconds that feel like hours. Nothing makes it stop, the phones won’t turn off, and there’s no actual banner or text warning offering explanation.

For others, it happens in the middle of calls or while they’re browsing the web: static, sharp and sudden and loud blares from the phones in a small area all at once, seemingly at random. Annoying enough on its own, but those affected begin to notice something…off. Is that mailbox following you? Did that signpost turn to look as you passed by? Inanimate objects seem to come to life around you; those that can stalk you will, and those that can’t 'move' do all they can: watch. At least you don’t seem to be the only one noticing, right?

For those who look long and hard enough or for the truly perceptive, a commonality will eventually be spotted. It’s a cell tower within Dogtown. Tall, innocuous, with its rusted metal frame and pillar structures attached near the top; it seems perfectly normal, if weather-worn…at least until your eyes travel the form more closely. The crossing of beams doesn’t make a thin pyramid shape as it should, instead they twist over themselves into impossibly long limbs. Legs lead into a hollow torso and spindly arms, the metal so twisted and rusted that it begins to look like leathery, flaking skin the longer you stare.

The amplifiers at the top nestle in a tangle of wires and twisted metal with empty sockets at random intervals, as though the eyeless structure didn’t always used to be that way. Now it sways ever so slightly in with a gentle rocking.

➥ What Belongs to the Sea

(cw: dismembered bodies, flayed bodies, body horror, zombies, hand-based trauma, human-caused environmental damage)

Last month it was horrific little dolls, this month what's washing up on the shores of Gloucester is far, far worse. ADI has people continuing to patrol the beaches, particularly those where the dolls had been found. On the night of August 13th, it's not dolls, but pieces of some sort of sea creature that wash ashore. A sea creature touched by something terrible. It's almost like an eel… if eels had irregularly-spaced and sized hands. And the face of a human woman. The pieces of its body are wrapped in fishing line, netting, and other bits of garbage that are regularly thrown into the ocean. The head, for whoever might find it, still seems to have at least a little life left in it because if it is approached, it sobs, a broken sound that shouldn't be possible when it has no lungs. It can't form words, just cries and cries. Characters who ask native ADI personnel who have heard the sobbing or heard recordings of it will let them know it sounds distinctly like the wailing heard beneath one of the local bridges last month. And the wailing beneath the bridge? That's stopped.

If it were only the strange eel creature, that would be disturbing, but manageable. It is not only the eel creature. On August 14th, the tide pulls in something else. Perhaps you're actively patrolling, perhaps you're just strolling places you might want to rethink. Whichever it is, your eye is drawn to a figure lying prone in the surf, the waves buffeting them, shifting them up and down. It's hard to make out who the body might be, and as you come closer, it doesn't help in the slightest.

The body has been flayed. All visible skin stripped away, leaving exposed muscle and fat. The salty ocean seems to have cured it to some extent, but not nearly enough. Whoever this was, they are no more. There is all manner of refuse wrapped around their feet and ankles, old fishing hooks dug into their skin. Glance into the waves beyond, and you'll see something watching you. It has reflective, animal eyes, and disappears almost as soon as you've noticed it. The analysis of the bodies by ADI personnel (native or off-worlder) will show that these are people who have been reported missing or kidnapped from Cape Ann to Essex Bay.

The next night, August 15th, there are more bodies. So many more bodies. They wash ashore in groups of five or six, always when you're not watching. These are different. Still flayed, still wrapped with refuse, but when you reach toward them this time, they reach back. The bodies grasp for you, rise and try to wrestle you into the surf. It's clear they mean to bring you their fate, whatever it was, if they can. There's no signs of life in these bodies when they come for you. The keen-eyed may note that they have large fish hooks run through or near their hands, though. Removing those seems to be an effective means to make the bodies stop. Or removing the hands/arms from the rest of the body. A headshot or two might work, as well.

➥ Telephone

(cw: gaslighting, altered mental states, supernaturally induced paranoia; please place additional cw's in subject lines)

The random, blaring sirens aren't the only problem with the phones, though one might be forgiven for missing a second issue that begins more subtly a few days later. Voice and video continue to work as expected within ADI's network when the sirens aren't going off, but text... text is another matter.

Sometimes the messages are dropped into the middle of a conversation. Sometimes they come out of the blue, perhaps even from someone the recipient has never met. Always, though, the messages appear to come from a legitimate network user, and always they are somehow sinister in nature. Some are uncomfortable truths about the sender or the recipient, some outright lies, others accusations or horrifying anecdotes. From the sender's perspective, nothing is amiss: all outgoing text messages will appear exactly as typed when viewed on one's own phone, no more and no less than one had chosen to send. From the recipient's perspective, additional messages appear seemingly at random. Compare phones side by side and it's clear that the people around the characters are receiving texts they did not send.

But maybe that's what they want you to think. With the phones already on the fritz this is a nasty time to play a prank on the network, but it's not as though it would be all that hard to pull off, right? There's a whole department full of hackers right there within ADI headquarters, after all, and who knows what technical skills the other off-worlders could be hiding? You can't trust what you read on your phone, obviously, but more importantly, you can't trust the people around you. They're lying to you; they wanted to scare you. If you've gotten creepy messages from multiple people, that's just evidence that they're plotting against you together.

Don't believe their lies.

➥ Mod Notes

• ARRIVAL (August 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 (or the rubble that used to be part of 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, as well as information about the state of ADI Headquarters.
  
  
• A FACE FOR RADIO (August 1-12): The signal creatures will be hard to spot. While tall, they are shorter than average cell towers. They can be neutralized through various creative means as well as through traditional violence. While there are only a few, they move about and make the number seem more than it is. While not inherently violent, if provoked the creatures will defend themselves. Please remember that death is permanent in the setting!
  
  
• WHAT BELONGS TO THE SEA (August 13-15): The 'zombies' can be killed in the standard zombie trope manner by destroying the head or enough of the body, but for characters who might be more inclined toward a less direct solution, removing the fish hooks from the hands will also cause the body to stop moving. For the bodies that are found, ADI will be directing the police to collect them after the first few. Players are welcome to make up who the victims are, if they'd like to focus more on that aspect of the prompt, and have their characters analyze the bodies or research who they might be. The only commonality between the victims is that they are from the same general region and those listed as missing seem to have last been seen near the beach. For any characters who might be inclined toward PR, ADI will also be spinning this up as a serial killer being on the loose to try to encourage people to stay indoors/move around in groups.
  
  
• TELEPHONE (August 4-15): Characters will be unable to find evidence of any outgoing messages from their own accounts on their own devices. Tech-savvy characters will be able to discover that the messages are being inserted by a nameless account spoofing the ID of whomever appeared to send them, but will not be able to pin down a location for the mystery user. Exposure to the messages will inevitably induce some level of paranoia, but players are free to decide how quickly and how severely those feelings develop. Players may choose any variety of disturbing subject matter for their characters' unintended messages; please place appropriate cw's in subject lines.
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Comments

QUESTIONS

[apocalypsehowmods]

[easilyamused]

Would embedding the hooks in other dead things make them get up and wander around trying to murder people?

[apocalypsehowmods]

Indeed! Embedding the hooks in other dead (or even living) things would cause them to begin attacking. If embedded into a living person, they would be fully aware of what their body was doing and completely unable to stop it until the hooks are removed.

[failedpromise]

Will characters of a more technological nature (AI, robots, cyborgs, etc) be affected by whatever the signal creatures are doing to the tech?

[apocalypsehowmods]

Techno-based characters may find themselves forced to emit the same high-pitched warning as other technology, as if something is overriding them. Their forms or functions may fritz out unexpectedly, or they'll find themselves hearing and producing only static. This effect may be strong enough (at player discretion) to temporarily disrupt the standard illusion that surrounds these characters when they are outside of ADI HQ/housing. The disruptions would be in fits and bursts, rather than something continuous.

Re: QUESTIONS

[twicelost]

If Katrina tells ADI they must investigate the water, and clean up the trash a little, ew would they put together a small crew and a ship and let her freedive to see what might be happening? She feels for the wailing eel-thing, and the uh state of those bodies is a bit much even for her, unless it was revenge. She won't judge if it's revenge.

[apocalypsehowmods]

Would you mind kicking this question over to the Feedback Page? The short answer is 'yes.' We'd just like to incorporate those efforts as a prompt in the upcoming Siren event, if that's something you'd be interested in!

[edalyn]

Couple questions! Does the eel thing's head seem actually aware of much/respond in any way to how it's interacted with, or is it just the same crying whenever anyone's near it? Do the other pieces of the body show any life? Mostly I'm wondering if there'd be anything to indicate there's a point in trying to help it (whether or not that would actually accomplish anything)

Eda can pull her head off so her standards for definitely beyond help are loose

Also just to double check, are people writing the unintended messages from their own characters or making up what they receive? Or both?

[apocalypsehowmods]

1. It's the same sort of crying, but proximity seems to change up the volume. The closer someone is, the louder the wailing. It is a plaintive, piercing sound that may well cut to the core for anyone who has ever lost something. Beyond that, however, the face does not react to characters by looking at them or changing expression. It does not seem to actually be aware of its surroundings; it is somehow reacting to characters' proximity solely on reflex.

2. The other pieces of the body twitch occasionally in the way a dead insect might when prodded. Trying to help the creature won't really do anything, but Eda and others can make the effort!

3. Players should be writing unintended messages from their own characters, rather than any incoming messages from others.

[faceblocker]

I probably should have asked before making assumptions, but I got a little excited! I'll retroactively change this if I messed up since I missed that there was a curfew and stuff, but I had Vi show up and avoid the assigned quarters at least for the first few days. She's good at avoiding anyone in uniform and would have been sleeping in trees or abandoned rooms/buildings at first. She WILL eventually give in and move to the ADI housing, but was going to be a difficult pain in the butt at first. So, my questions:

1. Is it all right to say that Vi agreed to work security, got her supplies, but failed to check in to her quarters in the evenings?
2. If so, would she get in trouble upon returning (with Caitlyn, during the beach zombie attack)? Would there be any consequences for her?

Hige • Wolf's Rain

[alittlehusky]

Arrival • The wolves are never far away •

[Some time after an inelegant start to his day (waking up, stretching his legs, and immediately falling from an office desk) but before getting his neck snared in a dog catcher's pole at the doors of ADI HQ, Hige may be spotted acting like the wild animal he is.

Considering he's a (rather well-fed) tawny wolf, acting like a wild animal shouldn't be this much of a problem. Humans shriek or cower away as he gallops past, nose leading the way to the fresh air of freedom. Dare you try to wrangle the big dog? Hey, he's got a sturdy leather collar on his neck-- the wolf can't be that bad!]

• A face for radio •

[Hige stays because there's free food and a lot of it. He won't stay at the apartments, the stench of humans and artificial lights and cool air being too much to handle. He stays in ADI's records though, because now that he can blend in with the humans again with his disguise it's like returning to life in the Dome. He stays aloof, a young man who only sometimes joins in the 'investigations'. Like now, with his partner. Hige has his attention on the warm smell of a waning summer... he can't even remember the last time he had felt the sun so strong...

The wailing of the siren makes him shout, covering his ears harshly and instinctively. Sensitive hearing. He glares at his companion, bewildered by the onslaught of noise and not actually mad at the person... yet.] What the hell is that supposed to mean?! Nothing's happening!

Wildcard
[Any prompt or meeting you want! Outside of the first Arrival prompt, Hige will appear in his human disguise (seen on his journal). Hope you don't have dog allergies, though!]

Arrival

[graveyounglady]

What in-?

[Mercy hadn't meant to get in the way. She really hadn't. She'd just been returning from the canteen with a bag of chips and some fruit that promptly goes flying when she rounds a corner and finds something large and fluffy bowling her over. She's not a small woman, standing at 5'9" and built for digging and hauling, so she considers herself fairly sturdy. A galloping wolf, unfortunately, wins. But while she flails a bit going down, she does try to latch onto the creature instinctively and yank it to the side to throw it on the ground, if she can.

She's never wrestled a wolf, but today is a new day.]

Arrival

[failedpromise]

(Cortana isn't really supposed tco be spending much time in her tiny form, but sometimes it's just more useful, more convenient, more preferable to her large form, like right now. She's on a shelf snooping around, the flash drive that usually hangs around her neck tied to her back like some sort of weird backpack, when someone's sudden panicked flailing over a wolf in the building causes her near-weightless body to go tumbling.)

Ack! (In a panic, she latches onto the first thing she encounters to stop her fall-Hige's tail, unfortunately.)

Whoa!

(At least she's small and light enough it's unlikely to actually hurt?)

Face for radio

[cotgraveseffigy]

[Hige's partner is, perhaps incongruously, a little old man. He's bald, his face is round and friendly, and he moves a little oddly. Like he's not quite comfortable walking on two feet.

But he winces at the noise, too, and puts his hands over his ears after a moment, as well. He guesses hopefully:]

Maybe it's a test of the emergency system? And it will stop soon?

vi • arcane

[faceblocker]

WELCOME TO THE HOUSE OF FUN

[ She doesn't have time for other newcomers who don't know anything, nor does she have it in her to be a prisoner again. Any attempts to flee are immediately intercepted, though. It's not difficult for them to stop her; she's already bruised and concussed, and now her half-mechanical, half-magic gauntlets have let her down by refusing to work (although the right one had already been toast). Even if they can subdue her, however, it is difficult to get her to listen. Vi wants only one thing: her sister. She doesn't believe that they don't have her; Vi had heard her voice. She doesn't believe that they didn't mean to kidnap her. She gets kidnapped too often to ever think it's an accident.

She does believe that they're so incompetent that now they want to enslave outsiders to do their bidding. She believes they've got magic on their side, and that makes this unfamiliar territory in one way. But this is a prison, albeit bigger than she's used to, and that is familiar. She knows that any mention of future 'free roaming' is going to include a leash, even if it's just metaphorical. At first, fists fly and choice words are spat, and it's for her own good that she's kept close in the beginning so that her injuries can heal.

Vi learns her lessons more quickly this go-around. It had taken longer at Stillwater (if she ever learned them at all). Her anger softens, though it doesn't go away. It's just...quieter. With time, she understands that getting herself into an isolated situation (like solitary confinement) won't give her the answers she wants. She's tasted freedom recently enough that's Vi is more cautious about throwing it away. No, she doesn't think this is any kind of freedom, but at least it's a big prison for now. At least they've given her a spacious cell with others, although she has no interest in confining herself with them. She'd rather sleep in trees—trees are nice. How many has she gotten to touch in her life? Not enough. There's a reverence when she does; she climbs them so that the leaves barely rustle. Even the air is nicer; it's more like Piltover on a cloudy day, although that's where the similarities might end.

If they weren't so quick to throw around money, at least that's how it seems to her. Not having to steal what she needs is an alien concept. Once agreeing to some kind of truce, Vi's eager to grab a change of clothes and whatever she can stuff into her pockets when permitted to get supplies, but the smartphone is ignored in her frustration (and abandoned once it later begins shrieking like a fog horn). Whatever 'hextech' the phone is, Vi's pretty sure they haven't worked out the defects. Whatever class they think they're going to make her go to seems like a lost cause when the tech can't even work right.

The thought of working for them is sickening, but it's the second best way to get information. Security is simple enough that people will underestimate her, and maybe if she goes where the fighting is, she'll happen upon the right clue. Or even the very person she's looking for. There are others that she thinks about. Those thoughts are fleeting. Vi had cut all her ties so that she could find her sister, and she can't backtrack now. I heard her voice. What happened after that?

Although Vi tries to find people to learn from, she isn't so quick to ask them direct questions anymore. It's clear that everyone here is all about lying, so the best she can do is be as indirect as she's capable of. Lurk; watch; listen. Under windows, on rooftops, in trees, or right in the open with her hands in her pockets and her hood doing a poor job to hide crimson bangs, Vi will eavesdrop on anyone she can. If they're off the beaten path, then all the more likely she'll find them.

When not trying to be sneaky, she'll actually patrol and admire nature, creepy as it is at times. The breeze is salty; it scratches her skin and seems too light when she breathes it in. She steers clear of the water, never taking her boots beyond dry sand. The water makes her think more of home. It's bigger here, or at least it seems bigger without crowded docks to trip over. Are the leviathans out there really any scarier than the ones she's used to?

Something's out there, she can feel it. In the ocean? Or behind her? For some reason she's hesitating to turn around. Her arms cross, muscles so tense that she's ready to snap like a rubber band. She hadn't heard anyone walk up to her, but she isn't alone. Is she being watched? There's no way she's afraid... She told them as much when they reminded her that fear feeds the enemy. Is that so? What else is new? ]

WHAT BELONGS TO THE SEA

[ It's hard not to retch, but the task of keeping it together is made easier only by the fact that she hadn't eaten anything that morning. Even still, there's a tight twist in her stomach as she barely has time to wipe the stinking slime off of her bandaged knuckles before the creature comes at her again. It manages this with a fist-sized hole in its middle, and now Vi really may have to acknowledge the fear that's been trying so desperately to haunt her alongside her guilt. Fear goes with guilt so gently and so quietly that up until now, it's been easy to mistake one for the other; but it's been eating at her.

Any time she glances at a puddle, it ripples. ]

How!

[ It's yelled out to no one in particular, given Vi doesn't expect a response and is far too wrapped up in survival to be aware of anyone other than what's coming directly at her. The one that she had hoped to knock out in one hit grabs her again, and despite the stench and the horrible sounds that rise from its broken maw, it's the water—tainted; poison!—that trickles from rotting debris onto her arms that nearly leaves her weak-kneed. Don't go in the water. Vi gasps and wrestles free, her elbow breaking off the bottom half of an already-dangling jaw as two more try to grab her ankles and drag her to the water.

She's fought things that were more than human before, but these are...less than. It leaves Vi frantic until she claws more than she punches; her kicks are wild and her curses are screams. A hook catches her shoulder—it tears but she doesn't feel it—and Vi latches onto it, ripping it and the hand attached right off with something caught between terror and fury. She needs to run from the water, to nurse her fresh new injuries, but she's too busy wanting to rip everything apart until the ocean delivers what she wants. Her questions don't even make sense; her enemy can't answer. Nobody could hear them if they tried.

The anger that she's been trying to subdue into silence is as loud as the wails of sea monsters, now. ]

Fuck...you! [ A grunt; another strike. ] Where is she? Where is she?!

ROLL THE DICE

[ Surprise me! ]

hiiii C: (what belongs to the sea)

[clavesregni]

[Caitlyn has been spending more time away from the apartments, away from ADI, jumping on any assignment she can just to have something to do. And when she is at the apartment, she's usually holed up in her bedroom, pouring over every scrap of information she's managed to collect time and time again, as though if she stares at it all long enough everything will click into place. As a result, she hasn't met many of the new arrivals.

She's volunteered to go down to the beach to deal with whatever the problem there is. A goal to focus on, something tangible she can help with. More information to collect. And more than a little bit of misery at the thought that her failure to help the creature in the canal may have something to do with the creature that apparently washed up on shore a couple of days ago.

The skinless corpses littering the shore are a surprise. The figure with bright red hair screaming at the ocean as several of the corpses try to wrestle her into the waves even moreso.

Caitlyn's pistol is unholstered and a shot rings out in the blink of an eye, piercing one of the creatures through the eyesocket. Another shot and a second creature falls. She runs towards the water, keeping an eye on the for-now-lifeless corpses she's passing, but most of her focus is on the woman. Maybe it's a trick or a trap; others have reported seeing loved ones reflected in mirrors or windows when no one was really there. But if it's not really Vi, well... Caitlyn has spent the last month or so worried sleepless about what befell Vi, and the passing thought that this might be a trick isn't enough to deter her.]

Vi!

Fredrick Cotgrave | The Twisted Ones | The Flesh | cw bones and undead things

[cotgraveseffigy]

I. Arrival

The thing that arrives in the demolished portion of the ADI building could easily be mistaken for something made up by an Entity. It's clearly dead, made bones and hide and carved pieces of wood. Its feet are hooves. Its hands are bone and wire. Dangling down amidst its ribs are wooden toggles on threads of heavy twine. Its head is a deer skull, tied to the rest of the wood-and-bone frame with wire and twine.

The skull is upside-down, but it still moves like a normal head would, turning this way and that as if the empty eye sockets can actually see.

It stays put, crouched in the midst of the rubble, looking as confused as a construct of bone, deer hide, and wood can look.


II. What Belongs to the Sea

Out in Glouchester proper, Fredrick looks like himself again-- an old man with no hair, on the shorter side, reading glasses tucked into his pocket, with a vague kindly air. He feels a little more like himself again, too. Not a lot more like himself, but a little.

Also, he can talk properly again, which is very nice. He can walk down the street, tip his hat to a stranger, and have them smile at him instead of scream. That's also nice.

He takes walks down by the beach. After all, strange dolls don't bother him. He's seen much worse. (He's made much worse. But he's not doing that any more, is he? Of course not.) Finding a body doesn't really bother him all that much, either. He just crouches down next to it. "You look worse for wear, friend," he comments, with hints of a musical Welsh accent, right before the dead body tries to grab him.

II

[easilyamused]

The strange dolls do bother Methos - or rather, the seasickness and the dreams of drowning do - but the reports of a sea creature with a human face washing up on the coast are intriguing enough that he braves the beach anyway. The timing is sheer coincidence. He's certainly not expecting to see an old man crouching down beside a heap of wet, raw meat that--

The lines of the heap resolve into the curve of human limbs between one blink and the next, and he sucks in a sharp breath. There has never once been a point in human history at which a flayed body has been any kind of good sign.

"Careful, I wouldn't touch--" he has time to call before the corpse rouses, still raw and red and horrifying.

I

[cardinalrule]

That thing isn't human or witch. Hunter is certain about that.

He'd been picking through the remains of the ADI building, doing a little scouting and reconnaissance as a break from his research. Most of the time there's nothing there in the demolished remains aside from a stray mouse of bird, and even though he's in full uniform including his mask maybe the quietness he's experienced before made him lower his guard a bit.

He's kicking himself now, now that he's face-to-face with something that's probably, realistically a demon, but reminds him far too much of the Emperor - his uncle - when his condition takes over. There are the antlers, the empty eyes, the gnarled anatomy that looks like wood but he isn't sure if it actually is -

Hunter is frozen there for several moments, clutching his staff. It takes him a second to remember where he is and what he's doing, and when he does he points the bird-end of his weapon at the creature. "What are you?!"

He's... sounding a little more nervous than he should, but he can't help it.

I

[punched_hitler]

Steve should be patrolling the beaches, makes himself do it sometimes, but
sometimes his dreams are bad enough after that he ends up patrolling the halls of ADI instead. After all, it's about that time, when newcomers start showing up, and he figures it's still useful to make sure they get where they're going - and get honest answers to their questions, as best he can mange.

At least, he thinks the strange thing - creature? person? He probably shouldn't judge - he comes across in the rubble of the damaged part of the building is a newcomer. There's an air of confusion, at least, rather than malice. He thinks.

"Hello? Can you - did you just appear here?"

(Glitch) Bob | ReBoot

[binaryobject]

> ARRIVAL
( The last memory he could access was Mainframe being on the verge of a system crash, of Dot. Quietly, silently, holding her hand. Hoping he was right about his decision. Then, instead of a system reboot, he's in some sort of small room with a whole lot of things falling on him (those things were brooms and such of the like). So much so that it knocks him back and right out of the closet into the middle of the hallway.

And for a moment, just out of pure confusion about the situation, Bob just sat there on that cold floor. His forearms were protecting his head as he let the entire show unfold and get done with. Which, after broom number--he'd lost count--it seemed to be over. Hands found their way over his face with a sigh and only the glimpse of something very familiar snapped him out of it. ) Glitch? But I-- ( But he had downloaded Glitch, they were still merged, how in the net... did he have Glitch again regardless?

It was about that moment when he realized he wasn't alone. Not only had someone been in the closet with him, but there were a few other people around as well watching this whole ordeal unfold. It's enough to get him up, brush himself off and... ) Oh, hey. ( He chooses someone who looked most willing to talk ) What system is this?

> WHAT BELONGS TO THE SEA
( This was bad. This was really bad. The grim sight washed up on that murky littered beach was a scene unlike any other. There were a few grim sights Bob had been exposed to since he started processing, but this was something else. There were layers to the human anatomy that Sprites and the like simply didn't have. And with his white and golds--a faint glow about him--Bob really stood out against the background of things. )

What could have possibly done this? ( Bob speaks, unaware that someone else might be nearby. Normally the Sprite was more or less alert to his surroundings, but this mess had entirely captivated him. He was eager to find the culprit, and more so eager to make sure this didn't happen to anyone else. But where to start? )

( His programming immediately settled in by a wailing cry, feet dashing off to locate it. )

> WILD CARD
( Slide on in to a wild card my friends, he's pretty friendly. )

Arrival

[clavesregni]

[There's very little reason for Caitlyn to spend much time in the building. She'd rather be out in the world doing something, anything, than pacing up and down these corridors feeling increasingly restless.

But she's here today, not ten feet away when the door to a closet is knocked open and a cascade of brooms tumble down onto a man lying on the floor. Not dissimilar to her own less than graceful entrance to ADI.

She runs to him just as he pulls himself to his feet. The term system is worth noting - it's not one she's heard before - but commenting on it would only distract from what he needs right now: someone friendly to explain what's going on. So she offers him a faint but kind smile.]

It's rather a long story. You're in a place called Gloucester.

Erik 'Magneto' Lehnsherr | X-Men Movieverse

[prefers_magneto]

Arrival
He's dusty from the fight on the train and there are still scrapes and bruises on his face from his previous encounter with Jean. Now he's standing in a pile of rubble and it doesn't look at all like the rubble he came from.

Usually he's involved in making the rubble.

He steps through the rubble and down off the pile like someone accustomed to strolling through destruction, glancing around for any sign of where he is and how he got here.

A Face For Radio
The alarm reminds him of an air raid siren and it stirs something long buried in his lymbic system, putting him on edge right to his core.

"For god's sake, someone shut that bloody thing up!" he snaps at the nearest person.

They might notice something in the furniture or walls around them creaking faintly.

steve harrington | stranger things (s4 spoilers very possible)

[haircaring]

arrival.

[ Some days it's really like... man. Everything sure does happen, doesn't it? Steve would like to live in a world where it doesn't happen, but that's apparently some distant impossible dream.

It's not the worst awful surprise he's gotten in the past few years. So that's something. God, he was hoping he'd get another few months first, though.

What he lacks in outright panic, he more than makes up for in confusion. General concern? Oh, yeah. Tons of that to go around. None of his people are here. As in literally no one that he knows or has ever met, but especially none of the ones that he does know and has met and gives a shit about. It's like a huge chunk of debris swirling around in a thought tornado. Are they just not here or is it some whole thing?

Steve doesn't like debris in his thought tornados. He channels this discomfort through a little bit of stubborn irritation, hence his very vocal distaste for the entire introduction process. ]

-- no, no, I hear you, right, I hear what you're saying, and what I'm saying is, this isn't my first rodeo. I know the shit that goes down in secret underground bases, and it's not a fun little training tape! Okay? I go down to this basement and, what, oops, looks like I've seen too much to go back upstairs? That's how they get you.

[ Some people sound like exasperated parents to cope. ]


a face for radio.

[ On one hand, Steve hates that he has a very relevant skillset for this exact kind of assignment. Overqualified, even. Look for weird stuff, document it, don't actually go anywhere near it or get almost murdered by it? What a breath of fresh air. Or a breath of air that smells gross or something. He hates it but not enough not to keep breathing.

Life's a little easier when he's staying busy. Less to obsess over. He's good at settling himself into ye olde "yeah okay this might as well be happening to me" mindset.

And he does like having money. His hair can't maintain itself. There's really no reason not to be on lookout duty for weird, horrifying stuff. That's like getting paid for something he'd do for free. Without getting nearly murdered in the process, assuming he can manage.

Local man swiftly finds out that he'll probably die of annoyed headache from this dumb little cellphone they gave him. Lesson learned. Take nothing for granted. Like being watched by mailboxes. Or, on stopping to have a suspicious turnaround, being stalked by no less than 4 garden gnomes.

He nudges one with his foot in kind of a "suspects it might grow teeth and try to eat said foot" way. ]

Do you think it'll piss it off if I kick it, or are these all, like. [ Insert vague wavy gesture here. ] Hiveminded?

[ This premise makes full sense and is important enough to him. ]


wildcard.

[ up for basically anything else including the other tdm prompts tbh, we can plot/hash out ideas no problem! this is just as far as my brain could take me on topleveling, feel free to hmu. ]

arrival!!!!!!!

[bardsofprey]

[Eddie's never died before. So the thing is, he really can't rule out the possibility of this being the afterlife. What's crazier, right? That after death you wake up in a creepy ass hospital bed covered in your own blood and guts but no longer actively bleeding out, or that he's somehow been randomly transported to another world and like, magically healed. Probably for nefarious purposes. Experiments, or something.

Every option is completely nuts, and really pushing the limits of Eddie's brain and the allowances it's recently had to make to account for Bizarre Shit.

After an embarrassing amount of time staring at the ceiling and muttering encouragement to himself, Eddie rolls out of the bed with little to no grace, immediately sending a tray full of who knows fucking what clattering to the ground, and then he's snatching his jacket from a nearby chair and off and running before anyone can stop him, no shoes and no shirt, disorientated and sticky, eugh, jesus.

He dodges questions and hands and stumbles down random corridors, growing more panicked at how quickly obvious it is that this place isn't just some generic hospital- and then he spots Steve, and it's all very John Hughes, the way Eddie stumbles across the floor as he skids to a dizzy halt, the sounds of the commotion he's left behind catching up with him.

It's a complicated muddle of emotions that hit Eddie next- thank god, Harrington, a familiar face and someone braver and more equipped to deal with weird shit than Eddie- and oh god, if Harrington is here, does that mean he's dead too? Did Eddie fuck everything up somehow? Did it all fail?

Eddie's voice catches in his throat when he first tries to call out, so he clears it and tries again, elbowing his way past anyone who won't move.]

Harrington! Hey, Steve!