ithinkiwasbornforthis: (curious pinup)
[personal profile] ithinkiwasbornforthis
Night in the port city of Dolios bloomed with light and music. Every bar, cafe, and dance hall had its doors flung open on the warm night, spilling sound and people alike out onto the sidewalks and streets. Like other tourist cities, night life in Dolios went to all hours as people competed to spend their money and mingle in the warm weather. It was a perfect place to get lost until dawn.

Kitchen GP

Aug. 19th, 2013 01:11 am
crocodilehunter: (pic#6417469)
[personal profile] crocodilehunter
Say what you liked about the lower levels, they at least had food and drink and a refreshing lack of monstrous interlopers. Hook had detoured long enough to bathe and dress himself in something befitting a pirate captain before making a beeline for the nearest replicator and requisitioning the best booze he could find. After only a couple hours he had been rewarded by a large bottle full of amber liquid that was closer to rum than anything he had tasted in years and, being a sociable soul, he had brought it and a stack of glasses to the kitchen (where all good parties seemed to congregate at some point) to begin the process of meeting the neighbours.
daughterofthefifth: (Withstanding.)
[personal profile] daughterofthefifth
In which Lwaxana Troi follows Klaus, and is rewarded with TERROR.

Rated PG, because I do not do horrifying description well enough to merit a 13.
eof_classified: (Default)
[personal profile] eof_classified
<00:01:ψ> INITIATE PROGRAM< ABERDEEN.EXE
<00:00:00:0001> PROGRAM INITIATED< ABERDEEN.EXE
PROGRAM LAUNCH< 00:01:ψ | 03:19:00:0000>
PRIME DIRECTIVES:<
> [ QUARANTINE RELEASE : < 1 M1A TS-#1758 > < 1 M2A TS#1000kw “EXCALIBUR” > < 1 M3A TS#4591971, TS#4591972> < 2 M2A TS#1979-1-TS#1979-3, TS#1979-1A-1E > < 3 M1A TS #4205A-E > < 3 M2A TS #731-12A-12E > < 3 M3A TS #MIR899-01A-01J > < 3 M4A TS #183RC-5A-5E “LICKER” > < 4 M1A TS #4781-8A-8G > < 4 M2A TS-#1966 > < 5 M1A TS-#396739 > < 5 M2A TS #510105 > ]
> [ LOCK DISENGAGE : < 2 M2A CP #23 > < 2 M3A CP #6319 “RIPLEY” > ]

<00:01:ψ> LAUNCH PROGRAM< ABERDEEN.EXE
<00:00:00:0001> PROGRAM INITIATED<
RUN<
> ALL DIRECTIVES:)


MAY 29 | 12:00 A.M. :

The countdown clocks tick over to zero just as the time changes from 11:59 pm to 12:00 am. A clear chime like an elevator announcing its arrival sounds briefly in every room on board, but otherwise the passage of the countdown’s completion goes unmarked.

DING!

And then, on every floor of the station, doors that have heretofore remained locked begin to open, and one by one the things that those doors were keeping in begin to crawl out.
dr_lauren: (lab coat)
[personal profile] dr_lauren
"...and please, don't forget to take some vervain if you haven't already," Lauren finished, motioning towards a small test tube rack with a dozen labelled vials still resting within it. The security briefing with Sharon, Clint, Sam, Pullo and Cuthbert had been completed already, and with the general announcements about what to expect from the supers and the vervain Lauren figured her public safety duties had pretty much been completed. She glanced at Sam briefly as if seeking reassurance, and at the other woman's tiny smile and nod she took a deep breath, turning away to the first tray of waiting syringes.

***

The actual injections took very little time at all; with people monitoring just about every patient it meant that John and Lauren could concentrate on injecting the serum, confident that they would be alerted to any immediate issues by the others. She was cautiously optimistic that this would work, however, and indeed it wasn't long until the first stirrings and murmurs began to drift through the medbay, heralding the return to consciousness of the sleeping supers.
sharpshooting: (investigate)
[personal profile] sharpshooting
The tray full of hyposprays looked grim in the soft lighting of their imagined sick bay. John had to admit the holodeck had proven useful beyond his expectations-- even if the end result they'd reached was less of a sure thing than he was really comfortable with.

This is going to work, he told himself for the hundredth time. It was a far cry from a guarantee, but the results had been promising with Forge. Really, Lauren and Sherlock had been right: they didn't have the time to spend on being completely sure. It was their last hope. They had to take it.

He picked up the first vial and slid it into its casing, bending over his first patient-- Mrs. Troi, as it happened-- and pressing it to her neck. She stirred, and John began to speak in a quiet tone that effectively masked the relief he felt. "You're waking up now, Mrs. Troi. Take slow breaths, don't move around too much just yet, and I'll be by with a glass of water for you in just a moment."

John looked up and met Lauren's eyes where she stood giving a similar speech to Dr. Banner. She returned his little smile in wordless acknowledgment: the antidote was working, at least for now.

[see the OOC post here for more info.]
wise_ass: (some say it's better but)
[personal profile] wise_ass
[April 30]

Dr. Lauren Lewis comes to Cuthbert Allgood with a troubling development. Once a peacekeeper (but of late, a wastrel), Bert feels a call to step up and, well, keep some peace.


[HERE | Contains hot chocolate & comfort.]

-

Bert goes for a walk after his talk with Lauren and runs into Sharon Carter, who's having some megrims of her own. They make a stalwart attempt at distracting themselves, first with sport and then a little holiday before realizing that troubles always come home to roost.


[HERE | Diversion & vodka. ]

-

Bert finally heads to up to have some palaver with Klaus Mikaelson on the matter of compulsion. Things are polite, civilized, and full of barely concealed loathing.


[HERE| Bourbon & strife.]

-

Quite tightly wound after his conversation, Bert runs into Caroline Forbes and decides he might as well make it two for two. It goes better... but not by much.


[HERE| Tea & sympathy.]
proserpinian: (caduceus)
[personal profile] 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.
dr_lauren: (Default)
[personal profile] dr_lauren
[The evening of April 22nd]

Lauren offers to help organise volunteers for the vampires' feeding schedule. They convince her to drop the issue.


[Here | no warnings]
proserpinian: (caduceus)
[personal profile] 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. ]
no_good_deed: (pic#5974091)
[personal profile] no_good_deed
"Fiyero?"

The word echoed around the room in a wholly unsettling way - this was not Kiamo Ko, nor was it any place Elphaba had ever seen before in her life. It had the cold, unsettling feel of some of the clockwork alleys she had peeked down in the Emerald City, but there was nothing green here. Well, except for her.

Pacing solved nothing, nor did her attempts to force her way past the invisible door trapping her inside. The words that usually sprang more or less fully-formed to her lips were shy here, refusing to issue forth no matter how hard she probed for them, and eventually she had to concede defeat. Tucking her knees to her chest she sat and waited, a deep and unsettling gnawing in the pit of her stomach. This had to be the work of the Wizard, she just knew it.

***


When she was suddenly transported out of the cell Elphaba thought at first that perhaps Glinda had found her, rescued her, but there was no sign of the bubbly blonde in the wide-open room where she was. More chicanery from the Wizard, then, most likely.

She hadn't gotten far in her investigations before a noise to one side startled her, and she turned to glare in its general direction, wary of tricks and illusions.

"Show yourself," she said flatly. "I know you're there."
brightestlight: ([uhoh] fangs)
[personal profile] brightestlight
[March 1, 2013]

Even when you're in dino land, a girl's gotta eat - and Lauren's on the menu.


[Here|PG-13]

--

[March 2, 2013]

Caroline: 0, Raptors: 1, Logan: 2. Wolverine wins the smashing-through-the-ceiling lottery.


[Here|PG-13, In Progress]

--

[March 5, 2013 2AM]

Finding out that holo-people taste like real people, and this is how bad habits start.


[Here|NC-17]
brightestlight: ([bff] birthday)
[personal profile] 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.
princess_bruiser: (heck yes.)
[personal profile] princess_bruiser
The thing about a ninja is, a ninja doesn't need a superhero name.

A ninja is just a ninja. A ninja is a force of nature. The wind doesn't have a name, the darkness doesn't have a name, and vengeance doesn't have a name...

(But if she had a ninja name, she thinks it would probably be Kimiko Shadowborn, like the awesome girl ninja from Magic Teen Warriors : Xtreme because that is a really cool ninja name.)

And after she sneaks out of the wardrobe, she knows just who her first target is.

One of the bad mutants. She's not going to hurt them, because she's not a bad guy. She just wants them to know that the station has eyes. ...HER eyes. And that she's got their number, and they better not try anything bad. Also, she's got this costume and she just had her first ninja class with Wolverine-sensei, so she really wants to do something.

So: Magneto and Mystique. Time to track them down... ninja style.

- - -

Mystique's on her way back from a swim, wrapped in a terry robe and wearing flip-flops, when she sees something familiar-looking on the ground, just outside the Arboretum.

It's a bullet. An AK-47 shell, to be precise. Just sitting there. She looks up from where she's crouched and sees another one, farther down the hall.

What the hell...

She thinks of the block of rooms up ahead, half of which lock sporadically, and wonders if it's even remotely possible that the armory has opened up.

Later, in retrospect, the fact that a child set her up with a breadcrumb-style bullet trail and she fell for it calls for some serious self-examination.

---

Bam! Mystique walks in, and the door shuts behind her. Molly-- err, the faceless ninja-- presses a button on the wall and locks it. There's a mirror in Mystique's room, so she can see Mystique, but Mystique can't see... the ninja.

Mystique's face is priceless.

"What the #$@%?!"

"Hello, Mystique," says the ninja in her most mysterious, loudest whisper. "I think we should have a talk. ...and no more swears."

"Molly," Raven says through her teeth, looking like she's about to try busting through the glass. "Unlock the door. Now."


[ C'mon, tag in and be party to Mystique's fury and humiliation or Molly's mysterious admonishments of a former X-villain!! xD Depending on your tag-in, I'll give you one, the other, or both (and let you know via IM or email) at least until your character either frees Mystique or encourages Molly to get a new hobby. Feel free to pretend your character got the wrong door and stumble into Mystique's side, or see Molly's door open a crack. ]
brightestlight: ([uhoh] have to deal)
[personal profile] brightestlight
[February 14, 2013]

Frustration with the guard situation - and the aftermath, of sorts - has Caroline and Mystique talking.

[Here|PG]

-

[February 14, 2013]

After her talk with Mystique, she goes to ask Klaus his opinion - and things don't go as planned. He goes off to pick a fight, she goes to party.

[Here|PG-13]

-

[February 14, 2013]

Klaus wants a fight, and finds one.

[Here|PG-13 (Violence)]

-

[February 15, 2013 (5AM)]

Klaus comes back a bloody mess after running into Logan, and this time, Caroline's the one who skips out when he won't tell her why his arm's made of hamburger.

[Here|PG-13]

-

[February 18, 2013]

After spending some time on her own, Caroline goes home to find all their stuff gone and a note telling her where they moved too. Caroline and Klaus talk - really talk, and she finds out why exactly he and Logan got into a fight, among other things.

[Here|PG-13]

-

[February 19, 2013 4pm]

Now that she knows why from Klaus, Caroline wants to hear Logan's side of the story... and ends up with an unexpected ultimatum.

[Here|PG-13]

-

[February 19, 2013 5pm]

... which sends Caroline to Erik's doorstep, where she has an abrupt realization.

[Here|PG]

-

[February 20, 2013 5pm]

Still, she doesn't tell Klaus, even after he surprises her with a not-exactly-a-Valentine's-Day-gift that's housed in the Inventory room.

[Here|PG-13]
withmyshield: (appraisal)
[personal profile] withmyshield
Sharon marches into the holodeck, which is empty [apparently there aren't any takers for her challenge, and it's probably for the best -grown men crying isn't the most fun way to start a beach day] and plunks her bag down in the middle of the empty space. She looks pretty hysterical dressed the way she is standing in the middle of an empty room on a space station, but Sharon doesn't give a damn about that right now.

"OK." She puts on her sunglasses. Let's do this.

"So, I want a beach. The best one you've got, preferably from Earth. I'm talking white sand, palm trees, blue skies, possibly a bar serving nothing but drinks with little umbrellas in them. Out of coconuts. There better not be any wildlife bigger than a starfish, either. Seriously. I see a single wild boar or the suggestion of a shark and I will flip out. Your little sweeper bots will blow all their circuits cleaning up the mess I'll make." The threat sounds pathetic even as she says it, but her powerlessness has become something of a joke even to her.

"Oh yeah, we're gonna need some chairs. Maybe a hammock."

Every time she speaks, there's a soft noise as the room reconfigures to her design. In the end, Sharon is standing on a stretch of beach that seems to go on for miles, not far from a long dock at the end of which she thinks she can make out a grass-hut bar. Next to her is a canvas chair with a big red umbrella. Thoughtful. It reminds her of a vacation she took in Aruba a few years back. Well, she almost got there. Rerouted to Cuba at the last minute, but Fury had been really apologetic about it.

She sits down and pops open the sunscreen. She also doesn't care that fake sun probably isn't harmful to her skin -it's all about the smell.
nottheotherguy: (not going to work out for everyone)
[personal profile] nottheotherguy
I woke up with a rock in my back, which just pretty much set the tone for the entire day. Not that it wasn't cool to be in the middle of a theme park full of extinct species-- the scientist in me couldn't help appreciating that-- but I remembered enough from the movie to know that at this point we were lucky none of us had become dino food in the night.

The way I saw it, we were on a time crunch, but the dinosaurs were going to beat us every time. We needed to get on the other side of the perimeter fence so we could travel back to the visitors' center without worrying about a T-Rex surprise-- but Abed had been helpful enough to mention that there was a hurricane on the way.

"This day just gets better and better," I said as the wind gusted into my face.

[Gather or round robin underneath each top level!]
clearbluesky: (Default)
[personal profile] clearbluesky
[March 2nd, 2013]

A group of intrepid explorers discovers they've been beamed down into the middle of a paddock with a sick triceratops and (mostly) no idea what comes next.


[Here|All Ages]
xiii_legion: (sword)
[personal profile] xiii_legion
First things first: nothing will ever compare to the feel of going up against a real opponent, the feel of his fists smacking into another man's face, the taste of blood in his mouth as perpetually battered teeth loosen again with a ringing blow. That being said, cumbersome though these gloves are, he likes working up a good rhythm against the 'bag', venting frustrations and landing punch after punch on a target that won't fall over when he's just getting warmed up.

Proserpina had been the one to introduce him to this 'boxing' thing - on one of his first days at the palace the goddess had all but read his mind, leading him to one of the strange mirrored rooms with oddly springy floors and showing him around the equipment. Eager to please her, he hadn't even complained much when she pointed out that the gods frowned upon the wholesale slaughter of other residents, so all endeavours would have to be blunted and gloved (and yet without providing any chickens, sheep or doves they were making it seriously hard for a man to make a decent sacrifice). She had been suitably impressed with his showing, and so he made it a priority to come 'work out' every day - well, every day he wasn't too hung over or otherwise indisposed. So, most days.

Today they're up on the second floor of the palace, where the room is bigger and there's a roped-off area the goddess calls a 'ring', which seems to be something like a tiny arena for two men to fight in. He's eyeing it hopefully, but he knows better than to ask the goddess to join him there. Just like he knows better than to ask her to join him in his bed, though the urge is damn hard to fight, most nights. With such distracting thoughts in his head it's no surprise when he misses the bag, swinging himself round with the force of the blow until he's facing the other way entirely, a sheepish look on his face. Get a hold of yourself man. Concentrate!

---

The sparring rooms are easily the place Mystique clocks the most time outside of her bedroom, and she sure as hell has more fun in them. Most of the time, anyway-- watching Pullo go to town on that sandbag in all his big brutish glory is almost painful; she understands innately that as long as she's playing goddess, there are certain activities she really happens to enjoy that are verboten, and beating the tar out of her disciple (or worse, her disciple figuring out he can beat the tar out of her) is one of them. So she's just a spectator today, occupying three of the audience seats like a chaise lounge and watching Pullo through the lens of her communicator's camera, because all of this is precious and so very baby's first boxing match, giving him a firm thumbs up the first time he almost knocks the bag off the chain.

"Atta boy," she calls, pleased, entertained, but deeply pining for more first-hand violence. Just then, she hears footsteps behind her, and from the look on Pullo's face, he's as enthusiastic as she is at the prospect of a real skirmish.

[Tag one or both - be spectator or contender! The choice... is yours!]
ithinkiwasbornforthis: (beauty)
[personal profile] ithinkiwasbornforthis
The 24 hours are just about up, as far as Forge can tell, and though he doesn't want to admit it he's anxious about what the next move is. He sits on the edge of his bed, clenching and relaxing his fist, having not the slightest idea what's about to happen to them - who is going to come through that door, or what they're going to want.

Luckily, as it turns out, he doesn't have to worry about that. One minute he's sitting on the cot, and the next he's standing in the middle of a vast room, something like what Grand Central might look like if it was abandoned and untouched for about a decade. That's not what strikes him, though. At the moment, all he can register is that he's once again on his feet.

Two feet.

"Oh, thank god," he mutters, flexing the fingers of his cybernetic hand and feeling the familiar response.

Pam materializes a few feet from Forge, on edge and alert, looking about and assessing everything at once. With no direct threat, she relaxes visibly and arches an eyebrow at him. "Found something?"

She does not wait for an answer, but paces a few feet away, turning about. "The Proserpina," she says, wonderingly. There are not many things that can still surprise her, but this has quite caught her off guard.

It is a very pretty cage and she half expects Victor or even Felipe to walk into view at any moment, but despite dropping into a half sleep, Pam had had plenty of time to think that through. As much as she would love to corner Victor and put an end to him, she highly doubts his connection.

"I want answers," she says. And if answers were not given, Pam would find them.


[Tag one, tag both, tag both together, just let us know in the subject who you want!]

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