edge_of_forever | Entries tagged with pc:holmes

The void of space is momentarily interrupted by the presence of the spacecraft Persephone: a mid-sized ship on a mission of exploration, research, and interplanetary commerce and cultural exchange. She is operated by a crew of anywhere between 15 [skeleton] and 60 [full compliment] from all walks of life. She represents a Consortium of Planets, and her home port is Earth.

In addition to the crew, there is a lively contingent of passengers aboard at any given moment. One of the goals of the Consortium is to promote interplanetary exchange, and they view safe passage as a public service. Papers to travel with Persephone are easily obtained at your home world's embassy on any Consortium affiliated planet. There is a basic background check and standard set of physical examinations, of course, but nothing troubling or invasive.

They've been en route between planetary systems for three weeks now, and life is unremarkable. Routine. There is an air of purposeful contentment.

nebaritralk

[August 12, 2013]

Chiana is looking for a distraction from her jonesing. House fails to provide one. Holmes and he share conclusions and make plans.

[Here|Rated HN for Horny Nebari?]

huge_egomd

House spend several hours, first studying the hub and then moving out along one corridor chosen at random. He walked, he looked, he poked at buttons, sometimes he simply sat quietly and thought, and he'd come to two conclusions. One, no matter how improbable it seemed, he did, in fact, appear to be on a space station. And two, there was no obvious way off the station.

Of course, the fact the exit wasn't marked with a nice big sign didn't mean it didn't exist. He'd quickly discovered there were rooms he couldn't access and it really wasn't unrealistic to hope the answer could be there, behind locked doors. That's where he'd keep secret after all--under lock and key. He just wasn't sure why it would be a secret. Who would want to keep people trapped on a space station, and why?

Thus far he'd managed to avoid any of the inhabitants, though he'd caught a glimpse of one or two, and they'd possibly glimpsed him, too. He was content to do no more than glimpse. He didn't intend to stay and there was no reason to go making friends if he was just going to leave. Besides, he didn't like people. Or maybe it was that people didn't like him. Sometimes he wasn't sure which explanation carried more weight.

He couldn't avoid people forever, however, not if he was going to explore the entire station. He paused to fortify himself with a Vicodin and then started walking toward the sound of voices.

xiii_legion

Once all the bodies are disposed of and the station is hammered (more or less) back into place Pullo figures it's time for a celebration. Everybody seems a bit down in the dumps, which is understandable - there's nothing left to kill, and that can make anyone a bit grumpy. But they had been stunningly successful at the killing they did do, and that deserves a party.

After a few days of preparation the hall is ready. The theme, if it could be said to have one, seems to be meat - there's a large variety of roasted and smoked meats threatening to buckle a table along with various other fruits, fish and breads, and enough scarves and tapestries adorning the walls to keep even Lady Troi happy. Most importantly, there's amphoras of wine all over the place as well as copious amounts of the harder spirits he liberated from some of the busted-open tavern rooms on the upper floors of the station. A makeshift altar to Fortuna stands along one wall - he has no idea how observant people are and whether they'll be smart enough to leave offerings to the goddess, but might as well give them the chance, eh?

Pullo was meant to be a legionary, there's no doubt about that. But as far as other careers go, party-planner wouldn't be the worst option... as long as you're happy with a bacchanal for every occasion.

luckyjackaubrey

Jack's transportation out of the cell and into one of the largest rooms he'd ever encountered was no less disconcerting than his arrival in that cell twenty-four hours earlier. At least Jack's ability to sleep through anything and at any time had no failed him, and most of his confinement he had spent snoring with no notion of the time on waking which was just as well.

In any case, having no explanation for either arrival, Jack dismissed the question from his mind and set about examining the area. His footfalls echoed off the great empty chamber as he paced about, first in one direction and then the other, finding no clue at all as to the manner of his capture, for captured he surely had been.

"Discourteous of the buggers not to present themselves and state their intentions," he said softly to himself.

Finally, Jack stopped, facing down one of the long corridors, and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Ahoy!" he called in his booming ship's voice. "Hello!"

highfunctioning

"Work." Sherlock urged under his breath as he attached the electrode to the surface of the plate. It was almost a warning. He'd found what was really the simplest possible solution after several days of fruitless experimentation, but he was having some trouble putting the theory into action. Not Sherlock himself, per se, but millions of lazy blood cells and faulty nanorobotics. Did they really break down so easily? Sherlock meant to have a word with the manufacturers.

When the first person joined him in the lab [really, they might have just arrived or been there for hours, for all the attention he was paying], Sherlock was hurling a petri dish against the opposite wall with a wordless cry of rage.

It was the second test batch he'd ruined, and the supplies were quite limited. The stakes being life and death didn't really factor into things for Sherlock; failing to solve any puzzle was equally maddening.

proserpinian

<5:01:ψ | 24:00:00:0000> INITIATE PROGRAM< HEMLOCK.EXE
<24:00:00:0001> PROGRAM INITIATED< HEMLOCK.EXE
PROGRAM LAUNCH< 5:01:ψ | 09:00:00:0000>
PRIME DIRECTIVES:<
> [ CLIMATIZATION : < O2:20.94% > < N:78.08% > < +CCl₈O | “HEMLOCK” > < TEMP: 19ºC>

<5:01:ψ | 08:00:00:0000> LAUNCH PROGRAM< HEMLOCK.EXE
<08:00:00:0001> PROGRAM INITIATED<
RUN<
> ALL DIRECTIVES:)

MAY 1 | 8:00 A.M. :

At 08:00 on the Proserpina, a colorless gas begins pumping through the air vents of Floors 1-5, initially detectable only by the inconspicuous but distinct smell of freshly cut grass.

Any subjects containing the specific nanites which restrain preternatural ability will experience a gradual decline in health, beginning with a vasovagal syncope response and followed by cardiac arrest within several hours. These subjects will find themselves experiencing a range of typical presyncope symptoms such as dizziness, blurred vision, muscle weakness, hallucinations and lightheadedness for their remaining two-to-three minutes of consciousness.

Subjects without the aforementioned nanites will be unaffected by CCl₈O.

As of HEMLOCK.EXE’s program launch, CCl₈O will be a standard element in the Proserpina’s air mix.

proserpinian

<4:22:ψ | 24:00:00:0000> INITIATE PROGRAM< LOCKDOWN.EXE
<24:00:00:0001> PROGRAM INITIATED<
PROGRAM LAUNCH< 4:22:ψ | 06:00:00:0000>
PRIME DIRECTIVES:<
> [ ALARM : < KS#20-19: AIR RAID > < PS#08771-5: CODE BLACK > ]
> [ DEFENSE : < SECURE ALL GRIDS: F1-F5 > < ENABLE “F3-G3: SANCTUARY”>
> [ CLASSIFIED ]
> [ DISENGAGE : < SANCTUARY: “MOBILE” > < COMMUNICATORS: ONLINE > < REPLICATORS: ONLINE > ]
> [ CLASSIFIED ]
> [ CLIMATIZATION : < O2:36% > < N:64% > < Ar:0.12% > < Kr:0.09% > < Ne:0.10% > < TEMP: 19ºC>10ºC> ]

<4:22:ψ | 06:00:00:0000> LAUNCH PROGRAM< LOCKDOWN.EXE
<06:00:00:0001> PROGRAM INITIATED<
RUN<
> ALL DIRECTIVES:)

April 22 | 6:00 A.M. :

The sirens begin blaring at 6:00 sharp. As the residents of the Proserpina scramble out of bed or halt in their early morning routine, many of them reach for their communicators only to find them unresponsive. The home screen has been replaced by an interactive map, meant to guide them from where they are in that moment on the station to the Porta Ianulis. It proves impossible to exit the map program.

Soon after the sirens begin, an announcement begins to play, in a similar style to the announcements for docking missions: a calm, clear voice directing residents to the Porta.

[ This is a critical message. Code black. Please calmly proceed to the Porta Ianulis. Repeat: this is a code black critical message. Please calmly proceed to the Porta Ianulis for further instruction. ]

The message repeats once every three minutes.

As the residents exit the room they were in at the time of the announcement: their room, the training area, the kitchen, they will find that the door locks behind them, and that they have no access to it, or to any of the rooms on the station. The hallways and the open areas of the Proserpina are dark, lit by sparsely placed, brilliant white floodlights instead of the usual twenty-four hour recessed lighting along the walls and floors.

Those perceptive enough will note a ten degree drop in temperature, and perhaps even a change in the composition of the now oxygen-rich air.

Once the residents have entered the Porta Ianulis, a new announcement begins. The sirens continue. Communicator maps update locations, and now direct residents to the third floor: a room labelled SANCTUARY, along with the overhead voice.

[ Critical message. Code black. Please proceed to Floor 3 via the turbolifts. Please remember each turbolift may hold a maximum of 1500 kilograms. Repeat: this is a code black critical message. Please calmly proceed to Floor 3 via the turbolifts to await further instruction. ]

As the residents load themselves into the turbolifts in small groups, the temperature continues to drop.

Upon reaching the third floor, communicators will once again update their location, now guiding the residents to the room labelled SANCTUARY. A new overhead announcement begins:

[ Full security now in effect. This is a critical message. Code black. Please proceed in an orderly fashion to the sanctuary: grid one, room three. Repeat: please proceed to the sanctuary to await further instruction. Lockdown procedures commencing. ]

“SANCTUARY”, a formerly unknown and inaccessible room, is now responding to all communicators.

[ Before tagging in, please refer here. After the doors shut, this can be heard playing over the speakers. ]

brightestlight

Caroline Forbes turns nineteen today.

She turns nineteen, and last night - through sheer accident, while she was looking for decorations (because yes, she was going to throw herself a party - nobody else was going to, and this place wasn't going to rule her life that much) she found a micro USB charger, stuffed into a cardboard box full of strings and cords and what looked like dry spaghetti.

Pictures. There were a million pictures, now that she could charge her phone that she'd gotten out of inventory. Her and Elena, her and Bonnie, Matt and Tyler and Jeremy-- and her mom.

That was when she changed everything. No party. Not a standard party anyway - she left everything where it was, the small observatory where she'd been going to invite everyone a tornado of forgotten decorations. No, she was going to do this right, because she wasn't going to be all woebegone. No point in it.

So. Holodeck.

Carnival.

The holodeck obliged, and it was just before dusk, the buzz of people around her mixing with the noises of children and weird, piped in music. There were what seemed like a million booths, with prizes and people and there was dinky rollercoaster and a ferris wheel and bumper cars and the smell of cotton candy and funnelcakes and it was pretty much exactly what she'd wanted.

Nothing super personal, but there's no way people wouldn't have fun. She pulled out her communicator, and sent out the message, just before-- "Computer? Give me the pinkest cosmopolitan you can. And make nobody care about open containers of alcohol."

Let's get this party started.

brightestlight

"Oh! Hey, I was just leaving."

Caroline doesn't even turn around to see who else came into the sparring room on Level 5 - she spends most of her time up here now, and honestly, between all the stuff it's got to offer and their room being up here, she's got nothing to complain about.

Aside, of course, the scary rooms filled with blood.

In any case, she's been on edge, lately. She's told herself a couple of times that her hunting in the holodeck and the intense, crazy hunger she feels when she ends the program-- when she's gone from being full and sort of being some scary mass almost-murderer to two steps from starving just because she's said Computer, End Program is just part of learning. It's part of figuring out what being a vampire is, and that's the reason that she's been in here, beating the absolute daylights out of a punching bag.

It's not helping.

She's still hungry, she's still got that gnawing I could go back/I could find someone here/If only my compulsion worked in the pit of her stomach, but when the door opens she immediately steps back from the punching bag and smiles as she turns around.

Out, as fast as possible, because she's hungry and there's a replicator with her name on it. She moves towards the door, and...

... it doesn't open. "Come on." She says, more to herself then anyone else. "You have got to be kidding."

There's a sad Ble-bleep as the door refuses to open.

elementaire

This holodeck, as they called it, was really quite extraordinary. It wasn't Sherlock's first time in it, of course, but it was his longest uninterrupted time in it. He was currently standing on a street in no city he could identify; probably not one from his world, either in the planetary or dimensional sense of the word (or both), for all that the people looked human. He had been making notes in his communicator, and now he felt ready to move on to another décor.

"Computer," he requested of the AI apparently running the virtual reality chamber. "Random simulation, if you please."

As the world shifted around him, a rectangle marked the opening of the door, and Sherlock frowned sadly. It could only have lasted so long.

elementaire

Sherlock had explored every inch of the station he could get to, scoring a communicator along the way that allowed him access to a few more rooms. It had taken him the better part of three days and not yielded any definite result.

Then he had found an empty room, curled up on the bed, and slept through a host of horrific nightmares before waking up, a good day later, ravenous.

Asking the replicator for scrambled eggs resulted in something quite like porridge, but not quite, whose ingredients Sherlock was unable to all identify (alien?), and he wolfed it down before he took a shower, changed into another set of the same white-grey-black casual clothes, and ventured out of his room, smiling genially at the person in the hallway.

"Morning, neighbour!"

Never mind that it was early afternoon. Mornings and evenings were a bit useless on a space station.

elementaire

[January 28]

Santana and Holmes wake up in quarantine together. He's not a rapist, he's not fictional, and he's not crazy, thank you.

[Here|Language]

the_strange_case

Hyde stays up late so he can have first crack at whatever happens after they get released from "quarantine". He replays the hologram about a dozen times until the Roman asks him to give it a rest, looking mildly spooked. Hyde plays it once more and then leaves it, lying back in watchful repose, taking inventory.

His body feels...off. And his neck hurts. He hopes for Daddy's sake he hasn't been monkeying around with their body chemistry. That would require a little punishment.

At last, he feels something happening. Like his cells are being plucked away one by one.

Tickles...

The next moment, he's sitting on the ground in the middle of an enormous room, Mr. Roman at his side. Hyde surges to his feet, looking around with wide eyes, a greedy look on his face.

Then he cups his hands around his mouth and yodels, exaggeratedly listening for the echo.

"Honey, we're home!"

There's a funny whooshing sound, and suddenly they're not alone, either.

"Ooh, the neighbors!" He circles round the newly arrived couple, which includes a square-headed fellow and a pretty tasty looking young girl, which is whom he chooses to address.

"Please say you're my house warming prezzie."

The smile that follows could scare paint off a wall.

[tag Hyde, or Pullo, or both! eta: OK so now it's a party -Santana and Sherlock Holmes II [[KIDDING]] are also arriving in the hub today, so why not all together? sharing is, i am told, caring. just do indicate in the subject line of your comment who you want to interact with.]

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the city on the edge of forever

[[ a pan-fandom roleplaying game ]]

Entries tagged with pc:holmes

come sail away

(no subject)

July 14 [Backdated to a few hours after leaving quarantine]

Fors Fortuna (GP)

Captain Jack Aubrey: Debut

It's 3AM: do you know where YOUR sociopaths are?

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(no subject)

Happy Birthday to All of You

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In The Holodeck

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the roman and the psychopath

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