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redstringtheories2023-05-01 11:31 am
TDM #22
(NOTE: There will be no TDM or applications in June as we will be running our Arc 2 finale. If you wish to jump into the game, please be sure to app this month!)
(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.)
(cw: supernaturally-induced anxiety and mistrust; victimization; stalking)
Flyers have appeared throughout Gloucester. Have you seen this person? They're wanted for questioning on suspected supernatural activities. Most of the locals laugh them off as some advertising gimmick, particularly when it seems that every photograph shows someone who works for ADI. It's not just the people actually doing supernatural things, but anyone associated with the place at all. While most take the idea of the supernatural a little more seriously these days, this seems… odd to them.
Maybe you're one of the people thinking it's especially odd when you're confronted with a stalker-esque photograph of yourself plastered along a block. Have you been caught doing something you shouldn't? Are you being accused unfairly? Regardless of the answer, people are seeing this, and they might have their suspicions aroused or their opinions changed by all of this. It's nerve-wracking, isn't it? Thinking you might be cast out of your group to the wolves. Maybe more nerve-wracking than would be normal for you. There's a tick of anxiety that might even feel foreign and out of place, but it is still very much there.
Calling the number on the flier will get you a feminine voice demanding, "Tell me everything you know." Regardless of the answer, the voice will simply respond with, "Noted." The hang-up is abrupt and multiple attempted calls will just result in your number being blocked. Those who ask around about who put up the fliers will get descriptions of a rather fierce and focused woman who claims to have come down from Buffalo. The name 'Jeff' has come up more than once with her for those she's questioned in-person, but her net seems to have been widened from just one person, and she's now on the hunt for more than just one potential 'avatar.' Whatever that means. Most locals assume it's an anime thing and move on. You can't shake the feeling that this person is after you, specifically, though. Maybe your new allies or friends, as well. And can you really trust the people who have their faces on these posters? Maybe you should be a good citizen and start removing all this paper debris… or start doing some asking around yourself.
(cw: spiders, ants, arson, burn injuries, implied danger to families and children, blood, body horror)
Even monsters tend to find a sort of equilibrium in the world at times, perhaps in ways that no one notices until the supernatural ecosystem is suddenly disrupted. In the days after a new Avatar takes up residence in Dogtown, a number of other things come streaming out of Dogtown in numbers that haven't been seen in months.
The first and the most numerous are the spiders. Spiders of all types and descriptions are suddenly everywhere in Gloucester. Most are various house spiders, tiny and generally harmless to humans, but here and there a black widow or brown recluse turns up, or a fat tarantula fails to find a hiding spot for its hairy bulk. There's hardly a place in Gloucester without spiders lurking in the corners of the ceiling, crawling in the walls, draping trees in their webs, or scuttling away in shocking numbers when you move a piece of furniture and happen across a whole nest of them. Everywhere you go there's the phantom sensation of walking through spiderwebs strung across doorways, sidewalks, and paths. Sometimes the cobweb is real and brushing it away sends a little spider fleeing; other times it's hard to say whether that thread you felt brush across your face was really there or if it was all in your imagination.
As for what the spiders are doing, though, the answer appears to be…nothing. Though they're present in fearsome numbers, though some of them have deadly venom, the spiders don't swarm or attack. If anything, they're even more inclined to run and hide than normal spiders, seeming to be keenly focused on survival rather than any sort of specific campaign of action. They learn and adapt quickly, too, should anyone go out of their way to kill them in large numbers. The spiders seem to actually recognize individuals and actively avoid anyone who's particularly prolific in the art of spider-smashing. Though they may not be the most pleasant roommates, it appears the spiders are simply…present.
Less pacifistic are the other creatures that come pouring out of Dogtown in the days that follow. The swarms of spiders might almost be forgotten in the face of the next swarm: one of fire ants. At least, people take to calling them fire ants as shorthand; whether or not these are actually members of the genus Solenopsis is neither known nor particularly relevant to the current problem–namely, that these are fire ants in a very literal sense that speaks to the cruelty of the universe. Their sting causes not just the feeling of being burned but the actual physical consequences of it; someone unfortunate enough to come in contact with the swarm may find an entire arm or leg covered in second or third degree burns. Their tiny bodies are like smoldering coals, and anywhere they nest grows hot and smoky until whatever structure has provided them shelter finally ignites like kindling. The roaming red swarm is, in contrast to the spiders, highly aggressive. The ants seek out victims, drawn especially to family homes and anyone with a lot to lose to the fire.
Whether the creatures that rise from the river of blood in Dogtown are worse still is up for debate. They're less destructive, perhaps, but no less unnerving–and no less dangerous to an unwary individual caught alone at night. From a distance they look almost like creatures made of raw, bloody meat. Up close, it becomes clear that the key word is blood. It's as though the reeking blood of the river itself has congealed into gelatinous creatures, each with the skeleton of some unfortunate animal (or, in a few rare and unsettling instances, human) inside. They thirst for fresh blood straight from the source and will attack with the intent to kill and drain their victims. For any brave individuals willing to hunt the creatures, they're easy enough to track down–they leave glaringly obvious trails of bloody footprints everywhere they go. Somewhat less straightforward is the issue of fighting and killing them, as they're able to reshape themselves and regenerate their jelly-like limbs and bodies so long as they still have enough mass to shape around their bones. Perhaps something more destructive than bludgeoning or shooting them will be more effective?
(cw: agoraphobia, monophobia, risk to life and limb; loud alarm sound in the second link)
Roughly ten months ago, the skyline of Gloucester got a little taller. The extra signal towers have made your home their home for quite some time. Yet over the last few days, their numbers seem to be thinning out during the nighttime hours. Maybe they have somewhere to be. Those towering, sinewy, creatures left behind seem content enough to stay. Although, to anyone with a sharp enough eye, they still seem to shift and move around the city every now and then.
It’s not a special or notable day when they intermittently send out a fresh signal around town. Different blocks on different days will hear the signal issued from their phones, car radios, emergency broadcast systems, anything that could have a speaker. It lances through your ears, into your brains and leaves a hash pulse just behind your eyelids.
The next time you blink, the city has vanished.
The rush of wind is violently loud and everything seems bright around you. An attempt to move around finds you stuck. Strapped in and trapped in a tightly enclosed space with wings and a propeller. A small, one-man plane. By the time your eyes adjust, maybe it’ll occur to you to take over the controls and pull yourself out of the free-fall dive your plane had been headed in. Funny how the ground never seems to truly get any closer. Whether you try to land or fly out and away or even up, every sense and sensor tells you you’re moving, yet the scenery never seems to truly change. Just you, your plane, and the wide open nothing around you as far as the eye can see.
Those familiar with the area or maps might be able to pick out a rough estimate of location: the general area of the Northeastern coastline. Forests spread out like an ocean beneath you and an ocean on your right hand side beyond that. Far below, just barely visible or noticeable, keen eyes might spot something familiar: the tall, signal-pad heads of the creatures that have been vanishing from town. They don’t seem to notice you, so far above, but they appear to be moving, their long, rusted, twisted legs carry them with wide strides in various directions away from Gloucester. Where? It’s hard to tell, they blend in so well with the trees, keeping an eye on them is almost impossible for long. Perhaps it’s better to simply focus on your own predicament.
After all, even those caught in the same signal might not find themselves stuck in the air. Instead they blink back the pulsing headache with a small nosebleed and someone nearby jerking and reacting and looking at…nothing, but they sure seem intent on walking. Those not caught in the vision might see a friend or stranger dead-set on walking out of town or down to the ocean, regardless of any hazards or people around them and shouting barely seems to do the trick. It’s hard to hear over all that wind, after all.
- ARRIVAL (May 1-31): Two people will almost 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.
- LOOK AT THIS PHOTOGRAPH (May 1-15): You may find photos of your own character or others at ADI while out on the streets. The whole town has been plastered with many of them. Trying to track the source of the phone number to be called seems to be strangely impossible, even for those with supernatural abilities in that arena. The woman people have seen will not be available for interaction during this TDM, but she will be available at a later point. Characters trying to investigate her will have very little to go on apart from the fact that she claims to have come down from Buffalo and seems to have it out for everyone even a little enmeshed with the supernatural happenings of Gloucester. The posters induce either a sense of anxiety about your own situation or some mistrust about the people you're seeing on the posters.
- FOR THEY ARE BUT MERE MONSTERS (May 1-15): To sum up, three types of creatures have come swarming out of Dogtown: spiders, which don't appear to be taking any kind of aggressive action; fire ants, which are lighting things on fire; and blood jelly creatures, which are attacking individuals to kill them and drain their blood. The fire ants are susceptible to being crushed like ants or snuffed out like a fire, and the blood creatures are susceptible to being burned (though the smell will be horrendous). The spiders are susceptible to anything that normally kills spiders.
- TERROR AT 20,000 FEET (May 1-15): Anyone can be caught in the signal’s radius, it only last a few seconds, but the visions will last until a physical action is taken upon someone effect (i.e. a slap or shake or hit by a car) and the person will be moving their hands and head like they’re seeing or reacting to something that isn’t there. Those not affected by visions, will suffer a migraine the rest of the day and a nosebleed for nearly a minute after the sounds end, but see nothing of what someone else might see. At least for that day. Characters might see the visions on another day if they’re caught in the signal more than once.
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This is not how he ever imagined addressing her when (if) he ever saw her again, expression distorted into irritation and a walled, weary kind of worried all at once. His bark of a voice accentuates the emotions cresting in him. She twists in a spacey, frivolous panic. He dares her to hold herself still, dang it, his other hand coming to help keep her shoulders square because she might be hurt.
"Calm down."
His mind remembers cool caves, and millions and millions of spiders.
Poisons and scimitar--
But Steph amends, says she's fine. There's coffee on the carpet, locals unsure about what to make of this big scene, one cafe employee making their way cautiously forward and Tim fights the irrational urge to duck his head in total embarrassment. He fights the urge to pull Steph into a hug, too, but that's somehow much easier to navigate.
He takes a breath for the both of them.
"--did you pay for that yet?"
...The... coffee. Priorities... Shut up.
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"You calm down," she retorts with a glare. She has the presence of mind to keep her voice down this time. She glances over at the employee, shrugging lightly and rolling her eyes in a 'you know how it is' gesture. Of course, the employee has no idea how it is, or what it is, but some of the patrons start to turn back to their own conversations as it seems like the scene is resolving itself.
"I paid for it already, and I didn't even get to have a sip of it first." She grimaces down at the wet carpet, lamenting the time it's going to take to get some caffeine into her system now. Tim's overreaction seems to have swept the missing arachnid out of her mind, at least.
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Give the boy some credit: that protest never leaves the tip of his tongue though there is a strangled little noise in its stead. He catches the hint well enough. History does that. Tim drops one hand to dig for his wallet, the other lingering on Steph only a second more.
Stephanie is here.
He thinks he wants to cry.
A great enough distraction is him pulling out a 5 (he's so freaking broke) and placing it on the table.
Maybe it isn't Stephanie's idea to waltz out, but it sure it Tim's. "Come on," he instructs. Because of course he instructs. "Let's get out of here. We need to talk."
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"...What? Tim, I just said I haven't had any coffee yet!" Maybe if she asks nicely, they won't charge her for a replacement. She certainly can't give up without even trying. She was up late and slept horribly because the room is still unfamiliar. She needs coffee!
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This is exactly how any encounter, ever, between them, is destined to go. Feathers sufficiently ruffled, tired in that bone-deep way that comes with too many conflicting and big emotions, and feeling like something in his left leg is off since the failed spider-squash... Tim gives in.
"I'll get you better coffee."
Neal won't mind a raided stash. Much.
"We go home-- not to ADI. To an actual house. You get coffee. And we'll talk this out," he says. Which. That's a first, isn't it? Timothy Drake promising to talk things out. He's tired. There's a spider crawling on the wall behind Steph. Tim's frown twitches. He's tired.
How to get Stephanie Brown to relent--
"And... I shouldn't have left my crutches, so I need to pick them up anyway."
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Her lips twitch in a brief grimace at the mention of crutches. She doesn't like seeing him with them, looking so hurt, and the knowledge that it's fake somehow makes it worse.
"I'm holding you to that," she says by way of agreement, shoving her hands in her pockets.
A bit of fabric shifts and she instantly checks to make sure there isn't a spider on her knee. There isn't. But there's a spider crawling across the floor, so she's going to take one big step away from it.
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(Not all weird and twisted things come from Dogtown. Some come from The Other Worlds.)
He resists the urge to grab a hold of one of her biceps or even just tug at a sleeve of hers. Tim isn't feeling keen on getting his jaw punched. And thus begins their journey... elsewhere, with Tim's gait so very obviously altered. Khakis and a boring polo shirt. If it weren't for the memories of unrelenting trauma and the fact that he and Steph are walking together as civilians for the first time in Who-Knows-How-Long, Tim would chalk the humid summer-weather stroll up to it being another wacky Gotham City afternoon. With spiders lurking in every shadow.
The familiarity is going to be dangerous, he notes.
"I haven't kept up with the records of new arrivals as well as I should have," he admits. "I would have found you sooner."
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Stop it, she tells herself. She doesn't need to be wishing to turn back time or thinking about all the different ways they've hurt each other.
"It's only been a couple of days," she explains instead. "Don't worry about it."
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To be fair, if she was freaked by spiders, she likely doesn't know Gloucester. Tim thinks he's heard rumors of bloody skeletons. Like the Mare. His brows furrow. Are they connected? Much more importantly, where is that preventive action his signal tapping had promised?
"We're going to catch the bus. Do you know Gus?"
That sounds stupid. Tim tries again with only a minimal, embarrassed stutter. "I- You did have the Orientation, right? With Hiram's poem in the same room? Who was it? Gotham's IT girl, or Stephanie Brown?"
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"Are you kidding? I get the feeling if I tried to play IT here something would explode or get cursed. Maybe both. There are only so many problems you can solve by turning it off and then on again."
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"Hate to say I beat you to it."
And maybe she oughta know about the details. Tim's convinced she'll learn them. He's not convinced it's what she should know now.
There's no way she'll miss that conflict on his face before he can smooth it over. Maybe he can hope she'll just believe he's some dumb goat let loose in the server rooms.
"But since you're ADI property now like the rest of us: congratulations. You know as much as anyone and your guess is as good as mine."
She's going to think he's some pod person.
"When did you begin to notice the spiders?"
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"Hate to say that's a nice change of pace." She shouldn't say it. She knows better than most how it feels when your good intentions go bad. Still, it's nice to not be the person screwing things up for a change.
Her smile fades slowly as she watches him for a moment. There's something strange about him today. He seems... tired, but not like he usually is. Like he's keeping something from her, but not because he doesn't trust her. There's something about him that almost seems defeated. What's happened since the last time she saw him?
"Some time yesterday. I got here the day before that, and there definitely weren't spiders all over everywhere then."
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Okay, okay, his private joke might not be all that funny to Steph. But consider:
He's kind of always wanted--
Tim is an idiot with a stiff walk and a dopey grin, and the bus is rounding a corner. He feels wretchedly normal.
"If I'm right about this... then that means I'm the oldest, now."
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She takes a couple of quick steps to catch up again, taking one more moment to think before giving a response. There's clearly a whole load of serious business to discuss, but since they're just getting on a bus...
"Wait, is that something that's been bothering you?" she asks with a teasing grin. It's not something she ever thought about much, but she can see it being a sensitive point for a boy with brothers.
"Do you want me to start calling you 'Sir'? I can slump more so you feel taller if that helps."
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Naturally, the boy's still teetering on pink when he does turn back to the conversation with a careful drawl of,
"It never bothered me, I'm just saying that I don't mind it."
Speaking of mind, his in the gutter, Tim leans back against the dirty city bus seat and he defiantly looks right ahead. At least until he laughs (he laughs oh Christ stop it) and bumps her shoulder. He mumbles a Shut Up and teases more clearly, "I'm only a little offended you didn't comment on my growth spurt. It's fine."
He has not had a growth spurt in the last years. Pushing 20, he figures he's done for. It's tragic.
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"I've never noticed your height. So how could I possibly comment on it?" She says, exactly three sentences after teasing him about his height.
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With a brow hiked up in polite expectation, he instead comments, "That's 'how could I possibly comment on it' sir."
But no, he's not strong enough. He breaks down, because no amount of Jeff's influence and uh, attention, will make him not be bashful.
(He needs to tell her about Jeff.)
One aborted giggle later (oh my God), Tim is running his hand through his too-long hair in a telling, frustrated fidget. He looks at her sitting next to him. Steph. Stephanie Brown.
Alive and well.
"I... really missed you," he says. The emotion in his voice may be lacking but the feeling behind it is evident. He thinks. He wonders. He hopes. Anyway. "It's been nearly two years since I saw anyone. I didn't think I would. Again."
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She snickers at his response. Her stupid needs no acknowledgement. That's how she got to be friends with Cass.
She's smiling over at him and thinking she should probably stop teasing him for a little bit when he tells her he missed her. She could swear her heart skipped a beat, her face turning so red that she can feel the heat in her ears. That's cheating, she thinks, before he goes on.
All that blood rushes out of her face fast enough to make her dizzy. Her blushing, uncertain expression morphs into one of horrified dismay.
"Two-- what? Two years?" Her voice is nearly a whisper. He was here for two years, in this place that literally feeds on fear, while nobody even knew he was gone?
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"Yep," he confirms. Two years. Maybe. Look-- it's complicated.
But... that's that. It's not like he can elaborate here. There's civilians around them, all clueless people. Tim squashes a spider (a small and hairy thing) before it can hide under Steph. See?
He's a gentleman.
"You're going to meet so many different kinds of people here."
Because he loves his lead-ins and also: Tim is tired. He continues. "It's really phenomenal. The place we're headed? It belongs to Neal and Malcolm. Malcolm Bright and I shared a room when we first arrived. If anything happens-- you go to them first. I mean it. Got it?"
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A place that feeds on fear... she should try to brace herself for that. That kind of darkness has overwhelmed her before.
She turns back with nothing more than a light frown and tense jaw.
"Neal and Malcolm. Got it."
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Their lives were never meant to be easy.
She looks elsewhere. He does too. He's sorry about bringing down the mood. And not. It had to happen.
He needs to tell her about Jeff.
About Lovely Ren. The Eye. The spying, invading the lives and conversations of those civilians he wants to shield from outright talk of monsters and things that go bump in the night.
"I already told you I did my time in I.T. I'm spending most of my time working in Equipment nowadays, though. Sometimes Security."
A part of him says this doesn't matter.
"Have you given any thought to where you're going to set up camp? Company Housing, Bonnie's?"
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"I've got a couple of ideas. I was gonna stay in Company Housing until I get a feel for things around here, and then make a decision." She's not sure about the company in general, or anything she's been told for that matter. Then again, her best alternative is setting out on her own and trying to stay off the grid in a city overflowing with both magic and surveillance. Not a fun way to live.
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Some habits die hard.
"We'll get you back home."
Like hoping against hope. Like jumping erratically from one topic to the next.
Speaking of-- there's their stop. Tim points quickly to one simple, blue, 2-story right down the lane.
"Come on."
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She puts her hand on the seat to push herself up and finds a spider an inch from her pinkie. She jerks her hand away from it and follows Tim. She can try to get it out of him later.
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Tim chews on his tongue.
And then they're on their way to the house's front door. There's a messy little "B1" painted above the lock that Tim slips a key into.
It's been a long moment of silence. Tim ushers her in to blessed air conditioning, and a neat and simple living space.
"Nobody here knows about the graveyard shift we pull. There are no capes, there's no Gotham or Central or Metropolis on the map here. Or in the lives of anyone else brought to ADI. I just didn't find it relevant."
--oh yeah. He had promised her coffee. Tim... searches for said coffee, like someone unused to actually working the machine. The kitchen counters are lined with too many benzos for Bright. Antibiotics and painkillers for Drake. The really good coffee is literally just above Tim on an accessible shelf. But the guy's a dunce.
"I don't think I've named anyone beyond... not any more than just twice. I don't know what's listening, or who is laying low too. Plausible deniability is big, here."
He finally finds the coffee. Three cheers?
"What Stephanie Brown has experienced in her life... could be different from Tim Drake's."
...
"Uh."
...
"I need to leave you for a sec. My, uh, leg feels like it's gonna fall off."
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