redshiftlogs | july 2019. welcome to the void.

Entry tags:

july 2019. welcome to the void.

Who: Everyone in Anchor.
What: First Introductory Mingle
When: The Month of July 2019
Where: Around and outside the city.
Warnings: Please add any warnings in the subject lines.

Redshift: Welcome to the v͖͕̺̲̘̱̜͎o̴̦̣̠̦̘̹͞i̯̖d̛̪̬͈̱̦̝͍̕.

Click here to read what characters will experience when arriving in Anchor.

a. bot party.

A few hours after the first arrivals, odd noises start to filter up from the pavilion and park at the base of the city. Limp whistles, the gunfire pop of small fireworks, and music from what sounds like a broken kazoo. It seems as though the still-functioning robots of Anchor are trying to welcome their new human overlords, based on programming that hasn't been exercised in... uh, shall we say "a while"?

Three of them have formed a tiny off-key band playing unfamiliar tunes from crackling speakers. One of the three punctuates the music at odd moments by smashing together a pair of cymbals that seem to have been constructed from a flattened pot and a trash can lid. Two others man the refreshments table. Some of the food looks downright inedible, but there are piles of wild berries from the upper floors. Raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, strawberries. Apples and cherries. Fruits that shouldn't be in season together but somehow still are. There's a strange and vaguely triangular pastry that tastes like hot cinnamon candy. There are piles of vegetables, too, though the only preparation they've had is to be washed and dumped in baskets.

One of the chef bots has put some work in, though, and there are a couple of stews and soups available for the adventurous. All of them are made with the raw ingredients available to eat on the tables. One of them even has meat in it, though that's best consumed by people with very hardy stomachs.

At the end of the refreshment table is a cluster of fresh-pressed juices and unlabeled alcohol bottles, with uneven stacks of cups stationed around them. (Careful, some of the cups are cracked.) Even the good old bar bot is doing his part, pouring out glasses of orange juice and straight shots of tequila. A very generous compromise in place of his usual tequila sunrises. Right? Right.

The most conspicuous robot is the one setting off fireworks. It’s already blown off one six-fingered hand, but by god that hasn’t stopped it. With every small cluster of colorful explosives, the thing throws back its chunky head and gives a sound that can only be described as a metallic cackle.

Might want to watch that guy.

b. life signs in the wasteland.

In the wee hours of the morning after the robots' attempted welcome, the impacts against the dome overhead start. Meteorites, some of them as large as a person's head, bombard the shield and the area around for miles. The alarms that start throughout the colony are enough to wake anyone up, if the thunderous noise of the cosmic storm wasn't enough to do it.

And the alarms aren't for the meteorites. The red shift is rising up around the colony, that phenomenon that no one from the past had the foresight to give more than vague warnings about. New residents who have done some digging will know exactly what’s going on, but for those who’ve avoided even thinking about what’s happened to them, well. It could be a nasty surprise.

Anyone sensible would stay inside with all of that going on, but there's something else: life signs. The communication devices given to residents on arrival light up, indicating the presence of no less than five flecks of life out there in the wastes. Odds are good that at least a few of them are monsters from other worlds, or twisted radioactive creatures warped by the planet itself. But one of them is very human, and has been here for a very long time.

Should residents venture out to investigate these life signs, they’ll find the farthest one to be a man in protective gear, flickering like a badly received signal. As the red shift starts to fade, he solidifies, and as the shift finally dies away, he wrenches off his helmet with one hand and falls to his knees. He's as twisted as the creatures the planet has corrupted, one eye socket nothing but a depression sealed by flesh. His lips on that side curves sharply upward, barely hiding teeth too sharp and long for a human mouth. It's clear now while he pulled off his helmet with one hand--the other is a wreck, a blackened stony mass sealed to the cuff of his radiation suit.

He can hear you coming, if you're brave enough to approach. He can hear you coming, and will turn his one orange-irised eye to watch you until you speak.

c. hairy repairs.

Welcome to Anchor, where sometimes you're the only thing between you and the catastrophic failure of life support systems. After the red shift ends, the radioactivity warning alarms will at least fall silent. The cosmic storm has passed, and for a little while there's quiet under the dome.

But those exploring the upper reaches of the city might hear new alarms, much softer and less insistent than the radiation alarms. They're coming from one of the survey rooms near the garage and the exits to the surface. It might take a little doing to pull up the screens triggering the alarms, but you'll be glad you put in the work. It turns out, those meteorites damaged several of the exterior sensors and one of the major radiation and light transfer panels that help keep anchor supplied with energy--and help keep the shield dome in good working order.

While the damage is easy to see and isn't too hard to fix for those with some technical know-how, there are life signs moving slowly closer to the colony. It's quite possible to fix the damage and get back inside before those life signs arrive, but there's also the risk of being caught in the open and facing down some of the planet's native creatures.

In this case, they're large, furry millipede-like creatures no less than seven feet long. They're perfectly harmless, if you don't count the fact that they seem intent on trying to eat the protective gear and tools you've brought out onto the surface with you. It's not their fault that your arms are inside those delicious radiation suits.

d. shadows of the past.

A few days of genuine quiet follow the fixing of the exterior damage. Time to explore, to get lost, to drink more than your doctor might recommend at the colony's only serviceable bar. Enough time to feel the weight of Anchor's emptiness.

The next time you walk into the bar, there's a see-through stranger at the pool table, smiling warmly in welcome. "Want a game?"

Get too close, and he disappears. But he was there--he was clearly there. The cue he was holding clatters to the ground and rolls over to rest at your feet.

Down in the pavilion, there are children playing in the park. Throwing balls, playing tag, their laughs echoing somehow in the open air. Invisible parents call for them to be careful or slow down. Now and then one of them will vanish midstep, only to appear again back where they were ten minutes ago and start their run through the park all over again. They can see you. One or two might even invite you to join their games, taking your hand in their own, leading you toward their fellows. And when they do, you can hear their parents' voices exclaiming in shock. A rush of shadows scoop up these phantom children and whisk them away into some invisible world where you can't follow, only hear the children crying in fear.

All around the colony, shades appear and vanish, some solid enough to touch, some just barely visible. Some are inexplicably aggressive, attacking anyone who tries to talk to them or get too close. Just as many run screaming or sobbing at the sight of you.

But there are others, too, who seem to recognize you. One of these is a young woman holding a gun like she has no idea how to use it. When approached, she almost starts to cry. "Oh, thank god. We have to get the kids to quarantine. We have to get them into lockdown. Those bastards-- Those sons of bitches-- The kids should at least have a chance."

She starts to turn, and a laser blast rips through her, lancing across the wall right where a deep score mark still exists, not in the least ghostly or unreal. If you touch it now, it feels warm.

e. ping from the rubble.

As though the presence of past residents sets it off, a persistent signal begins to broadcast from the collapsed library. It turns out there's a section not buried quite as deeply as the rest. A row of broken terminals, ending with the one sending the signal. A warning signal about the structural integrity of the library complex and the need to back up crucial data. Too little, too late, but with time and patience some of the partial files on the terminal could be reconstructed....

For those less versed in computers, there's a mysterious door just past the terminals, partially blocked off by rubble. If that can be cleared, the door leads into a dusty room with more broken terminals, but beyond that, there's a small library of real hardcover and paperback books, with comfortable chairs (some of them needing TLC), low tables, and lights (currently broken). The books are in a variety of languages, both Earth-based and alien. A flickering "skylight" at the top of the room shows a blue sky flanked by swaying trees, or a thunderstorm, or other, stranger but still friendly skies. It blinks off, sometimes, but seems determined to keep playing its peaceful scenes for those below. With some cleaning up, this could be a good retreat from the sometimes oppressive emptiness of Anchor.

Navigation.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Oh don't worry, he definitely recognizes her, stopping dead in his tracks as soon as he realizes who he's talking to.]

Oh my God, Poison!

[He just stares stupidly for another second or so before crossing the room and pulling her into a hug. It might be a little forward, but part of him so relieved to find a friend here that manners have been bumped down on his list of priorities a bit.

Another part of him isn't really thrilled that she's here, for a couple of reasons. This place sucks for one, and she'd already been away from her own home for so long. This made, what, the third weird place she'd been stuck in? Just let the poor girl go home universe, holy shit.]

[She's been through it before, too many times now. Seeing the face of someone she had grown close to, looking into their eyes and seeing a stranger looking back at her. There's no word she knows for the feeling that warms in her chest when he says her name, when he walks over and hugs her, and to her utter embarrassment she feels her throat tighten up and her eyes heat behind closed lids.

Poison clenches her fingers into the back of Peter's jacket, returning his embrace fiercely until she manages to regain control over her facial features. Her cheeks are still a little flushed when she looks up at him.]

You know me. [And, spirits, she's so happy about that.] I can't believe you're here.

[Oh God no don't be embarrassed, it's just Peter. Peter who is worried that this hug is going on too long and that he's being weird and oh God should he let go? He should probably let go, but then she's hugging him back and looking up at him, and he can't remember the last time he'd seen her this happy. Okay, maybe the hug isn't too weird, maybe he needs to just chill.]

Yeah, well. This wasn't exactly the final destination I had in mind when I hopped through the Door. Coulda ended up somewhere worse, I guess?

[Poison isn't much of a hugger, generally, but right now it's exactly what she needs and she leans into it easily, only dropping her arms from around him when he starts talking. She gives a wry smile and shakes her head, looking around the room.]

Could have been worse. [Could have been somewhere like the Box. This doesn't seem like that, but she hasn't decided what this place is like, yet.

A moment of thought later, she grabs the cuff of Peter's sleeve and tugs him towards the consoles and screens she's been poring over.]

Look at this. There's something wrong with the exernal sensors. We should be seeing something on that screen.

[He still has no idea how to talk to girls, but he does know exactly what to do with a computer. After she brings him over, he studies the screens for a moment before turning his attention to the console. Before long he's pulled up additional windows of information on one of the screens. Not great information, if the concerned frown on Peter's face is anything to judge by.]

You're right, they must have been damaged by those meteorites earlier. We might have a bigger problem than that, though. There's some sort of... uhhhh, energy panels converting light and radiation into energy for the station. One of those was damaged too. That's really bad, for the record. I don't know exactly how much juice these shields need to stay up, but if they go down, we're all screwed.

[Poison watches him keenly while he looks over the strange systems, and he seems to see exactly what she does. The damage, what might have caused it and just what has been affected by it. Her shoulder bumps his arm as she leans in to look at what he's speaking about.]

We can fix it, though, right? Look, just there. [She points to one of the screens, showing something that makes her think it could be possible.]

It's just damaged, but it's still there. I could get up there.

[Peter turns his attention to the screen she points out, absently rubbing at his chin while he studies it for a second.]

Damaged, but not destroyed. We can totally fix it. The garage is our best bet for finding tools and materials, there's gotta be protective gear in there too.

[and now they have a new mission, fun. While he's still talking, Peter turns and heads for the door, his mind more in science mode and less in hey don't walk away in the middle of a conversation mode.]

[It's just as well that she's used to him by now. Used to the way he finds the next thing to latch on to and lets it run away with him. Rather than take insult, she only smiles wryly and follows him to the door, giving a brief glance back over her shoulder on the way out.]

You have an idea, then. [Goes without saying, she supposes.]

I can get out on the roof, once we know what to do.

I always have an idea.

[He turns to look at her and says this with a straight face, but no, it turns into a dumb grin almost immediately.]

Okay, that's not even true, but right now I at least think I'm on the right track. I'm gonna pop out there with you as much as I can, but I'm also gonna have to keep an eye an the computers to make sure we're not goofing it up, so uh. Yeah, be super careful, okay?

[He will feel SO goddamn bad if she falls off the roof ok]

I'm always careful.

[Poison lies. However, she very much believes that lie, and her confidence pushes through enough to make it sound like she isn't lying at all. Surely, though, Peter knows her better.]

You can just give me the tools and tell me what to do. I'll be fine.

Sounds fake, but okay.

[He's definitely joking, giving her a playful grin and everything. He hasn't known her to do anything too over the top crazy dangerous. Yet. He's still going to be as close by as he can be though, because he's just that way.

Once they get to the garage, Peter starts hunting down tool boxes and equipment.]

[Poison smirks playfully back, trailing him down to the garage and leaving him to his own devices while he searches for tools. In the meantime, she finds a bag with one strap and only one small, easily patchable hole and begins... collecting things.

It's a habit she learned in the Box, that she never entirely un-learned. A few batteries are tossed in, followed by a torch that she first turns on and shines around the room. She finds a small metal box with a lock that she can't open, and seems to decide it's worth taking.

Then, she finds an empty tool belt, and picks it up.]

I could use this.

[Peter'd gotten pretty used to scavenging during his time in Hadriel, though probably not to quite so extreme a degree as Poison had in the Box. He packs away a few tools he think s might come in handy down the line, but spends most of his time focusing on finding stuff that will help them with the repairs they're about to go make. He glances over at Poison when she finds the belt.]

Oh, nice, that'll be a big help. I think I've got everything we'll need, all set?

[She looks around the room, lips pressed together, then picks up one final thing - a piece of cord, which she uses to tie her hair back. It has the effect of opening her features, making her eyes look all the larger in her pale face.]

We'll find out, won't we. [If they're missing something half way through it's going to be a quick run for Peter to get back down here. Poison is still intent on going onto the roof.]

Come on, let's get started.

[Her eyes are still like the coolest color Peter's ever seen eyes be. Eyes don't come in violet, okay, it's weird. But like super cool.

Anyway he's going to stop staring like a weirdo and zip up his bag.]

Yeah, um. Cool. I'll go out with you and help you get started, then I'll come in and check the computer and stuff.

[She stares right back at him when he looks at her, staying still and silent until he makes a move to leave. Then, she nods briskly and picks up the bag and belt, swinging the former over her shoulder. The belt will no doubt be too big for her, but she can make it work.]

Alright. We should try and find a way to maintain contact.

[Just in case.]

Are there any walkie-talkies in here?

[Oh no they accidentally had a staring contest and Peter LOST.

That's okay he can deal with losing. He reaches into a pocket for his communicator thing and starts fiddling with it a bit.]

Did you pick one of these up when you got here? I think they should work just fine.

Oh--...

[She digs into the deep pocket of her jacket and pulls out a similar-looking communicator.]

Yes. I forgot about this. [Again, she purses her lips, and makes sure she can find a way to contact Peter on it before she stows it away again. A quick text, a ':)' face, pops up on Peter's device.]

Then we're ready.

[He chuckles, not in a "ha ha dumbass" sort of way, but in a

Well he's not sure what sort of way it is, but hey, now he has a ":)" on his space phone so that's fun.]

Awesome, let's get out there and see what we're up against.

[And awaaaaaay they go.]

[It's a little tricky to actually get out to the broken piece of tech, and not - Poison quickly surmises - not something to be done without adequate protection. It makes things somewhat more difficult, but it can still be done. Once Peter has gone back inside, Poison sets up her communicator so speak to him.]

Can you see a readout?

One second.

[Peter sets his communicator up next to himself and takes a second to pull up some readouts on the computer. I know nothing about fixing futuristic space equipment so this is the part where Peter gives her instructions on how to do a thing. They're very detailed. Just trust me on this one.]

How's everything going out there?

It's harder to do this with gloves on.

[Poison sounds annoyed when she replies, but she's working on it, following Peter's instructions. It reminds her of being in the Autobot clinic, watching Ratchet performing surgery and mimicking his actions. She doesn't often think of the Cybertronians now, but it still stings when she does.]

But you should be seeing something soon. If I just-- Ah!

[There's sound of a scuffle, and the line goes silent.]

[OHHHHHHHH

that's not good.]

Poison?

[SUPER NOT GOOD. He snatches his communicator up and sprints out of the room. Shit shit he knew he should have stayed out there, now Poison's getting eaten by aliens or something and it's ALL HIS FAULT OH GOD.

It doesn't take him long to get outside, POISON WHERE YOU AT.]

[Fortunately for the both of them, Poison is not getting eaten by aliens. After losing her footing outside, she's several metres further down the slope of the roof and gripping to a loose piece of framework with both hands while she tries to regain her balance.

It looks like it's annoyed her, more than anything else.]

I'm fine, Peter, go back inside!

[He visibly relaxes when he sees that Poison is not, in fact, being eaten by aliens. There's a relieved sigh and everything. He is not, however, relaxed enough about this situation to just go back inside. It's not that he doesn't trust Poison to get the job done, it's that he doesn't trust this rickety, shitty roof to cooperate. So.]

Uh, yeah, in a minute. I'm gonna give you something.

[He removes one of his web shooters and starts making his way over her, being careful not to step anywhere that might dislodge any of the framework. The last thing he wants to do is throw her balance off again]

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