reveriance | TEST DRIVE #002

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TEST DRIVE #002

TEST DRIVE #002

( 0 0 1 ) » WAKE UP

Were you asleep or were you unconscious? It doesn't matter: when you come to, there's an odd taste in your mouth and there's a low-level mechanical hum in the air. Your head hurts and you feel nauseous. You aren't anywhere you know: everything around you is metal, from the floor you lie on all the way to the ceiling. You are dressed in a jumpsuit you definitely weren't wearing before.

"We tried to save the world. I think— I think we did the opposite."

The message repeats on a loop. If you look for its source, you find a comms device on the floor next to you. The logo on its wallpaper says REVERIE TERMINAL. Upon closer inspection, you find the same logo on your jumpsuit.

Welcome to your new home. What choice do you have but to explore your surroundings?

( 0 0 1 . 1 ) » WAKE UP WHERE?
When you wake up, you find that you're not alone. But more importantly, you find that you're in a closet. An empty closet, bar you and your new companion. It's small, cramped, and there is no door that you can see. The ceiling is low, there is barely any lights, only some coming from the tiny flashlight clipped to your suit's shoulder. You cannot be sure that there is any air coming in to the room.

Are these grooves in the wall supposed to mean something?

( 0 0 2 ) » OBSERVATION DECK

There were no windows in the corridor you woke up in and no windows in any of the crew quarters you might have checked for occupants — but there are plenty of windows on the uppermost level of the station, deck 1. In fact, there are windows from floor to ceiling all along the circumference of the station's circular deck, and it's possible to walk along it all. What it shows is a strange solar system you've never seen before and a planet that might resemble one you know, but certainly isn't the same.

You're in space. You don't know where you are. Neither does anyone else.

( 0 0 3 ) » BAR

On deck 3, you find the bar. Tucked away from the crew quarters, it's dimly lit, there are bar stools thrown down on the floor and what looks like some very old drink spills, crusty and dark against the bar top. But there is alcohol here, or at least, what you think is alcohol, in bottles with faded labels, most of them indecipherable. Take a drink, get drunk, start a fight, or start a party? You're stuck on this station, might as well make the most of it, right?

( 0 0 4 ) » SPACEQUAKES

One second, you are is walking. Magnetic boots are on, the ground feels solid enough, for a metal deck in a space station. Everything is perfectly fine, or at least as fine as it can be, given that you still don't know where you are or how you came to be here.

The next moment, it's like everything explodes around you. You're thrown against the wall as sparks erupts from electrical panels, as the whole station rumbles and shakes around you. You fall to the deck, earning yourself scratches from the grating. When you look up, it's like nothing has happened. No wires hanging from open panels, no flickering lights, no more shaking. Like an earthquake in space.

( 0 0 5 ) » NETWORK

The comms device you found next to you when waking up connects to a station-wide network, REVERIE NET. You have the option to post video, voice or text messages.

What will you share?

( 0 0 6 ) » WILDCARD

The station features a variety of locations, from sleeping quarters free for the claiming to a dirty swimming pool and a bar that still holds alcohol (though some of the bottles seem to have been opened a while ago).

Go wild, but don't wreck the place. It's your home for the foreseeable future, after all.

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Has anyone figured out something we might be here to do?

[ Excuse him. He's had his life jerked around from time to time, but there's always been a reason. ]

The recording mentioned something about trying to save people.

I doubt pouring me drinks is a means to survive anything.

( Logan would get along with this man, Charles thinks. They could communicate in grunts and growls. It would be a fascinating study of the alpha male, if Charles even gave a shit anymore. )

You're accent. New York, yes? ( Tipping his glass towards himself. ) Westchester County. Could our coming here be geographical, do you think?

It's a little complicated at the moment.

( He offers her a grimace, a slight tip of his head that indicates he doesn't exactly know to explain it. )

I'm currently on a treatment that has made my mutation nonexistent. Medicinally speaking, I do need it, so it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. ( It's a lie, he knows it's a lie. But part of him wants to keep pretending. He needs the serum, he does. He can't live without it, can't stomach the pain. At least his voice doesn't shake, and his hands are in the jumpsuit pocket, so the tremble isn't obvious. )

But I was a telepath myself.

( Unfortunately for them both, the movement was a reflex he's yet to wean himself from. He has no power to speak off, and for a moment he simply looks angry. With himself, with this situation, with everything that has gone wrong in his pitiful life up to this point.

Her voice breaks him out from those thoughts, and while his expression doesn't soften, it does turn quizzical. His hand drops to his side, clenching into a fist. )

I'm sorry?

( Better to pretend he doesn't know what she means. )

Yes, I've been trying not to think about that.

( It's not the first time someone's had to help his unconscious body out of his clothes. It's just usually he knows the poor sucker, which is why he gives Hank a wry little look. They don't talk about it anyway. )

We woke up separately though. He could be anywhere. I don't know how big this place is, and it's definitely harder to keep track of the corridors then it should be.

( They're all the same. Metal. Erik would have a field day. Charles has to suppress a shudder there. They step out into the Observation Deck, the expanse of space stretched out before them. He swears, stepping closer to the window, peering out as if he can't believe his eyes. )

Hank, correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think we're even in the same solar system right now.

Yes.

( How easily he'd fallen into the same trap, how quickly he'd believed. He should have kept his guard up, let his bitterness keep him afloat. But Charles has always had a weakness, no matter how broken it gets he can't ignore his heart. )

Well, maybe one day I'll realise.

( More gently. ) How much pain are you in? If this place has a bar, they must have a medbay.

The way Connor moves is curiously meticulous, but he assumes that it's part of how he's been designed. From a human, he'd assume it was a particular upbringing. Could the same even be said about an android? He has several questions, but Alucard is waiting to pace them out.

Instead, he nods to Connor and guides him toward the replicators.

"There hasn't been much in the way of configuring items into tools. The most I had been able to do is shatter a mug and utilize the remains for medical work. I'm fortunate enough that some medical supplies has appeared, but there is not much to rework into actual tools." If nothing else, he would agree that humans are exceptional in making anything into a weapon.

"Here. I think examining one is acceptable, so long as we can reassemble it. If you like, I can ask the network to see if anyone has any tools or has fashioned as such. Perhaps I merely overlooked it."

( It's like a slap to the face. Charles huffs out a breath, something that sounds at once disbelieving and inevitable. His smile is crooked, vacant of joy, just enough to bare his teeth like a wounded animal. How much he hates Erik Lehnsherr, how badly he wishes he could make himself feel only that. )

Mm.

( Weak? Probably. His heart had been torn out of his chest. He stares at Erik, something unfathomable in his blue eyes. The anger isn't strong enough to withstand the feeling of shameregretpain. It can't keep going, just like he can't.

And so he does the only thing he can think of and just walks away. Maybe there's a bar. Maybe there's something that will put him out of his misery. )

[ It's his concern for the man that dooms him. He doesn't register the approaching blow until it's too late. He dodges quickly, but still catches the worst of it right on his jaw and collapses. ]

What the fuck?

[ He scrambles to his feet, preparing to dodge anything else. Or even return it if he can. ]

Edited 2018-06-13 17:43 (UTC)

We'll just... have to keep looking for him.

[ He can't have gotten far. As big as this place may be, it's still a finite space. And Hank is pretty sure Logan will find them eventually.

Whatever he was about to say next gets eaten up by the astounding view in front of them. Hank has never seen so many stars, or a planet that looks quite like that one. ]

No, Charles. I don't think we are...

[ His amazed bewilderment lasts only a moment longer, though, before his mind clicks back into problem solving mode. ]

Whoever -- or whatever-- brought us here, had to be incredibly technologically advanced. We can't have been out long, or...

[ Or the serum would be out of their system. Which reminds him that they are now very far away from home, and Hank's supply of the serum. ]

I need to find a lab.

[ Erik's jaw tightens as Charles looks at him. All that pain laid bare again. He clenches his fist as he turns and leaves. He doesn't follow. He's done enough damage. And he'll keep doing more but at least he can stop from making it worse in this exact moment.

Once Charles is out of sight he lets out a breath and rubs a hand over his face. ]

Shit.

[ He finds him later. In the bar, of course. They all had their vices, after all. He approaches cautiously, but what difference does it make? Charles is still mired in the bitterness that consumed him all those years ago.

Erik doesn't sit. He just leans against the bar, close enough to talk quietly but not too close.]

I hoped I wouldn't see you here.

I didn't mind and I didn't wake up in the clothing I last remember wearing.

Edited 2018-06-13 18:42 (UTC)

[he waits until it's clear that apollo is steady before he steps away again. before he allows himself a brief moment to swipe his fingers over the dent left behind. he's been on the receiving end of his punches before to know how much damage his husband can cause. so the idea of it only doing this doesn't sit well with him. not when it looks like a simple piece of metal. something that even midnighter should be able to bust through.

apollo starts moving again though before he manages to dwell too much longer on the lack of damage, and midnighter turns to follow after him instead. later, maybe, once they go their separate ways again, he'll take a closer look at another door. he already knows that, ultimately, he'll end up rechecking every one himself, regardless of what he's been told.]

The crew disappearing is a pretty good tell. But I guess we can't take anything for granted here.

[it's only once they reach the elevator that he continues, after a glance back down the corridor towards the door that leads to the observation deck.]

Any sign of damage on the outside?

Like most androids, Connor moved with a sense of purpose, precise movements, no wasted energy, nothing unnecessary. They had their own unique flavor of graceful. He had a habit of constantly surveying and accessing his surroundings, logging thousands of lines of information that would likely not ever be utilized, but it was all there just in case. All available for when a split second decision needed to be calculated and made.

"... What did you use a broken mug for?" He asked, tilted his head to the side slightly to look at Alucard as they walked through the halls.

They slowed as they approached the replicators, Connor pausing a few feet away to look the entire machine over with an almost blank expression before taking a very deliberate step towards it, tilting his head again as he took a closer look.

"Perhaps we could find someone who would be interested in undertaking such a project. My knowledge of mechanical engineering is limited," He confessed, reaching out to touch the machine, the skin on his fingers receding to once again reveal the white exoskeleton.

I understand... [He paused a moment, frowning slightly. Holden seemed far from keen to continue speaking with him.] Are my questions bothering you? My intention was not to inconvenience you. I'm simply trying to understand what's happened to us.

If you do not wish to speak to me any longer, I cannot be offended. You need only say so. [Now that he knew he was speaking to an android, it wouldn't surprise, or offend, Connor in the least bit if he wished to end their conversation.]

A bit sheepishly, Alucard admits, "I used the shards to cut things, as I needed them to. Or, I used them to pinprick for blood tests. Not unlike you, if I taste someone's blood, I can determine their general health. I only need a drop. Rest assured, they were clean for the process, but it felt unrefined. Fortunately, now we have some medical supplies, but it's still limited. I hope I will not need to use them."

Once they reach the replicators, Alucard watches with fascination as the faux skin reveals the plastic fingers underneath as Connor explores the machine.

"I'm certain you can find a few people who would be interested," he assures. "I know about engines, but this is much further than anything I've experienced. For now, perhaps you should see about your thirium?"

[Raven wants to get in close and quickly, which means all of her focus needs to be on her actions and not on controlling her appearance. A lesson Erik taught her, no less. Shifting to her true form mid-movemnet, Raven tries to tackle him to the ground and wrap her arm around his neck from behind.]

[Raven can't quite explain why the idea of Charles losing his trust in people made her suddenly feel so sick. She'd spent so much time resenting him for his unyielding optimism. Yet here he is now. So close to losing any shred of hope. Her hand curls into a tight fist, nails digging into her palm.]

I've gone to a clinic. They stitched it up. [She doesn't answer his question as to the pain. It hurts a great deal even with the painkillers and the alcohol she's drank on top of it. But what did it matter? He couldn't do anything about it.]

"Oh. Of course," It made perfect sense, "Not the most precise instrument, I would imagine. Where did the medical supplies come from?"

So far, he'd heard of two possibilities. They could have been found in a previously unexplored area of the station, or they could have been among the objects that seemed to appear without explanation.

The machine was whirring to life as Alucard mentioned the thirium. After a moment, a small vial of thick, syrupy blue liquid was produced.

"Good," He said with a quiet sigh of relief as he slipped his hand away, skin recovering his fingers. He picked up the vial, giving the small sample a visual inspection before dipping the tip of his finger in the viscous liquid. His finger moved to his mouth without hesitation and, he hoped, before Alucard could protest, licking the sample to get a reading on it.

"It's thirium. The replicator seems to have produced an acceptable sample," He stated, tilting his head again to look at it. The little vial had come with a lid, so he promptly sealed the container, though he wasn't completely sure what he should do with it now.

Observation Deck

Aymeric placed his hand on the glass, staring out at the endless expanse of stars that stretched for eternity and beyond, eyes wide with a mixture of both wonder and horror. "By the Fury..." He couldn't help but whisper the curse, his heart throbbing in his chest, his stomach turning. He covered his mouth with his other hand, leaning against the glass as though he were going to be sick.

How in the Seven Hells did he end up here?

Aymeric's eyes scoured the planet below, though the sense of vertigo from looking down on it almost made his legs drop out from under him. He tried desperately to determine any familiar land masses upon it, to get some sense of place. The Calamity had significantly altered so much of Eorzea's landscape that their maps had only just been updated to reflect it within the past year, but even keeping this in mind, Aymeric recognized nothing from his geographic studies. No Aldenard, no Ilsabard, no Othard; whatever star this was, it was certainly not Hydaelyn.

Finally, his knees gave out from shock, and he couldn't help but sit there in dead silence, hand clasped over his gaping mouth.

Spacequakes

Aymeric wasn't really a fan of the magnetic boots he'd woken up with; the force was strong enough that when turned on it would feel like walking across a floor lathered with syrup. But when a sudden explosion threw him off his feet and turned the whole world around him sideways, he was thankful as they kept him from flying several yalms more. Groaning in pain from the impact, Aymeric looked behind him to the one he'd just been passing down the hall. He regained his footing and moved towards them with his teeth gritted in painful determination.

"Are you alright?" If they were on the ground, he reached a hand down, the other gripping at his aching side. "Can you stand?"

/wake_up

[ Downcycle shears away like an electric jolt, charged fire lancing from the top of his head to his very core. Awareness pours in and Rinzler is in motion, rolling aside across the cool metal floor, executing a neat flip that has him on his feet in an instant, the comfort of brandished discs in his hands.

No threat issues forth, no Resistance-led fighters come pouring down the grimy corridor, thinking to hem him in. A cool, female voice in the air has him immediately tense again, but it's merely a comm unit(?) left on the floor he so recently vacated. Scans are limited here–Rinzler tuts beneath his breath, so it's a test then–but nothing reads at all abnormal about the device, and so, discs docked, he stoops to grab for it–

–and freezes at the sight of the pale, naked hand that promptly drops the device right back on the floor. His other hand is equally uncovered, knuckles and fingers gleaming with the familiar amber lines of circuitry he knows all too well.

Has he glitched? What is this– Rinzler plucks at the cuffs of his dark blue jumpsuit. Synthetic weave, strange beneath his bare fingers as they make the climb up each opposite arm, sliding his thumb across the patch on his chest and ghosting a slow path up his throat, his jaw, cheeks; the wide-eyed fan of lashes and knit of furrowed brows, up his forehead and carding back through his soft hair and Where is he??

There are no returning pings to his queries. No pings at all, actually, no network, no steady murmur of the security band.

No Clu, the Admin's absence a deeper ache than any other discovery he's made thus far.

Impossible. Unacceptable. Only a moment ago he had tackled an Unknown Program to the arena floor, ready to shatter his cringing opponent into a thousand sparking voxels, and now he's in this dead place?

Rinzler rocks forward, snapping up the comm unit, and stalks off down the corridor to hunt for answers. ]

/observation_deck

[ Aesthetics matter very little to Clu's enforcer. He was not made to consider the weight and heft of an artist's lines, to appreciate the graceful smudge of color over a siren's eyes, or think deeply on the rise and fall and interwoven mix of melody and countermelody. Beauty is a useless distraction, form is a place apart from function, and it is not his function to consider form except where it has an impact on his function.

Standing on the observation deck, his nose near-pressed to the wide window, hands flexing slowly at his sides, Rinzler has a revelation.

Stars are beautiful.

That is what they are, aren't they? They must be, he decides, flecks of glittering light in the dark expanse of space. Like recognizers pinned to a cloudless sky, fading at the bright edges of the–the word is hovering at the end of the queue–moon? that takes up most of the view at this end of the deck. He cranes his head to see further, pressing his fingers to the glass as if it might help him discern more about the assembled celestial bodies, when footsteps interrupt his quiet observation.

Anyone that comes this way will find him stoic-faced, at a distance from the window– and with the sure sense that he's aware of you to an unnatural degree. ]

/wildcard

(( You do you, man. Rinzler will be everywhere and in everything, peering into crew quarters, squaring away a map of the station for himself, sniffing the suspicious-looking bottles in the bar, flattening himself to the wall during a spacequake and holing up somewhere to read through the network. If he can stuff himself in a ventilation shaft just to poke around, he probably will.

Just, uh...try not to sneak up on him. ))

Edited 2018-06-14 06:30 (UTC)

[This guy is definitely a Persona user. Naoya gives him a friendly wave, hoping to make the other feel a little more at ease considering their predicament.]

We're stuck in a spaceship. [Yeah that's not helpful to make anyone feel great so he changes his approach. At this point he's not going to bother mentioning about sensing the other's Persona since it seemed that no one else but him could do that anyway.] We've been working on uncovering what exactly happened...it's a slow process but we're getting there.

[He gives the other a small nod.]

I'm Naoya Toudou! It's nice to meet you.

[Honestly, Jun is happy to have an excuse to no longer look out onto space, it was beginning to make his stomach do flip-flops. this is another Persona user. Again. A third one. The first one got a little defensive when he mentioned it, the second seemed to be much calmer.]

I guess that is rather undeniable. [You know, the space thing. Whether it was real or made real because of rumors, or... any number of other possibilities was up for debate.]

I am Jun Kurosu. [He gives a small bow of his head then.] Are there... people who are not... Persona users, here? [Hey, could be hint. He's met three people now and they all had Personas.]

[Oh! Well that fixes up Naoya's worry about slowly easing into the whole Persona thing, but what an odd question to ask.]

There's a lot of people here who aren't Persona users, or even 'people', and yeah...actually there's only a tiny bit of us. I think we just have a tendency to get close to each other no matter what...I'm surprised you could tell. Most others here can't sense other users. I was beginning to think I was alone with that ability.

as compared to a baseline human, anyway.

[He doesn't mean it pejoratively--at the current moment in his society, being a mutant is the norm; quirklessness is almost stranger. Also, he doesn't have much of an opinion on the joke--Aizawa is one of those people with the driest sense of humor possible--but he does think at the back of his mind that it's something that would've likely amused Hizashi.]

right, mythology.
do you prefer to be called venus, then?

Edited 2018-06-14 07:16 (UTC)

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TEST DRIVE #002

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Aymeric de Borel | Final Fantasy XIV

rinzler // tron legacy

002

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SORRY FOR THE DELAY writing this app sucked my soul out of my body lmao