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leavin’ on a jet plane
"Don’t know when I’ll be back again."
ABOARD THE MOIRAThe Ingress has pulled you in. Your body experiences several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. You have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer from dizziness while others are perfectly fine. Once equilibrium has been reestablished, you will notice you are standing on a long platform and that the room is filled with a soft cerulean light. It's slightly humid and dark despite the glow around you, and nothing is familiar. Shortly after, you are led out and toward the medbay. Inside this room, you are given a physical scan and offered a contract to sign that states you are now part of the crew of the Moira with a specific job. Any questions you might have would be answered in a straightforward manner as well as an explanation about how the Ingress, the thing that has pulled you onto the Moira, is broken and bringing people here unintentionally. This process also consists of a complete work-up of medical history and current health, and afterwards, you are given your MID, a device that is integrated into your hand or wrist with only the slightest pinch. From there, you are guided out of the medbay and to your living quarters. Whether adjusting to space travel has been difficult or not, there is always something to be done. From working to leisure, the Moira offers a multitude of opportunities to get to know your crewmates a bit better. Exploration of the ship is highly encouraged. You may notice a slight change in the artificial gravity every once in awhile; however, more noticeable changes can be found in overall morale of those of the crew.
☄ on your ownThere are plenty of other communal areas on the ship to explore! Pick a place, and see where it takes you. ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. ) The day begins normally. Or almost.
The Moira has accidentally fallen along the trajectory of an asteroid barreling its way through space. While most things like this are not uncommon, and the ship is far from any potential danger of collision or risk of debris damaging the exterior, there is something particularly odd about this specific occurrence. The rock itself appears to give off a strange light that is both eerie and alive. Often, if looked at in just the right manner, it will shift colors; so, while one person sees one side of the spectrum, someone else could see something entirely different. At first, things continue on as they usually do aside from the glowing asteroid alongside the Moira, but as the hours go on, that does not seem to be the case.
☄ the hours are breathingresignedly beneath the sky the melancholy waters lieWith a rather open view of stars and space, thanks to the skylight above, the pool in the rec area suddenly comes alive beneath the light of the asteroid filtering in. Perhaps it’s some natural response to the chemical composition of the water, or perhaps it’s magic. Yet, regardless of the explanation, those who happen to take a dip suddenly find themselves plagued by despair. The depression and melancholy are not subtle changes either; it slams into you with great force, like a punch to the gut. The longer you remain in the pool, the deeper it grows, like an all-consuming paranoia that settles into the back of your mind and causes your heart to grow heavy. These strong feelings will eventually fade if you choose to leave the pool and dry off, but as long as you remain damp from the pool, those emotions will continue to linger. Even after you’re completely dry, there will be no mistaking just how intensely you felt or why. There is no explanation and might not be. Would you dare a second swim to test whether or not it was a fluke? ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. )
☄ those who have crossedthe eyes are not here, there are no eyes hereThe walls are shrinking in. Every room you step into feels much too small, like there isn’t enough room to even breathe. A crowded place becomes startlingly empty, and no matter how much you run, how much you explore, there is no one there to comfort you or answer your calls for help. Hallucinations run strong between the lulls of obscene loneliness or claustrophobia, and exposure to the glow of the asteroid is really the only thing to thank for that. You’re desperate to claw your way out of the ship—open the emergency hatch in the Cargo Bay, bust the glass of the Observation Deck. What’s worse is that it’s not just you. It’s catching, and the fear of being next is very real. It feels like you’re being watched, that everyone around you is looking and seeing everything you are. Or are not. The only way to make it stop is to admit that you’re afraid of being seen, but who, in the deep madness of the self, has the courage to ever admit the truth? ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. )
☄ the sun in flightrage, rage against the dying of the lightSomething has drifted its way onto the Moira from the outside. Unlike the faint luminosity they give off, they suck up all the light around them, making them the only source to see by. From far away, they are just flitting balls of light, but if you get close enough to inspect them, they are mean. And have sharp, sharp teeth. Go poking, and they will bite you before trying to fly away while taking that only light source with them. The option to avoid them is quite easy if you’re not the curious sort, but without them around, it will be impossibly dark. As the asteroid moves on in the opposite direction of the Moira, these light creatures begin to dissolve and fade away with it. However, a word of caution: their bites glow. If you don’t manage to find the one that bit you and capture it between your hands, the bite will become a permanent glowing fixture of your body. ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. )
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thisavrou_ooc2016-07-08 05:07 pm
Reaper | Overwatch
[The idea of space was not new to Gabriel Reyes, even if he had not taken it upon himself to visit when he was more capable of doing so. Reaper has even less interest in space, preferring to keep his focus on things he could control down on the surface.
He blends a bit with the window, dressed entirely in black with the occasional metal accent catching the light of the starts to give him away. He is a masked man, easily seen when he turns his head to watch an asteroid or two pass. His arms stay folded beneath a long, leathery trenchcoat and his presence is a heavy one to anyone who has a natural sense for danger. Long, silver-clawed gloves eventually crawl out of his coat, scratching at an empty shotgun shell in an almost idle manner.
This one is bad news. There's a tension in his shoulders that doesn't belong in such a tranquil place.]
How does someone screw up enough to land themselves so far away from their home planet in the middle of space?
[Reaper asks his question seemingly to the open air, with a rasp and echo only gifted by unnatural resurrection. And some otherworldly form of chain-smoking.]
the sun in flight
[The dark is a gift to Reaper. When the light vanishes from the hull, a piece of him very nearly relaxes. Under the mask, he even might be smirking just a little. Already, he can hear the nervous breathing of someone unprepared for total darkness, and someone else startling for an unknown reason.
This was more like it.
Eventually, one of the light creatures takes an interest in him in spite of his dark aesthetic. For a long time, they have a staring contest until he grows impatient.]
Beat it.
[And when it doesn't, he reaches out to smack it away. Anyone who had not already noticed his presence might pick up on the snarl of pain when he's bitten by it in retaliation. The snarling continues, followed by heavy steel-toes hitting the floor as he attempts to pursuit the creature -- likely with the intent to kill it.]
You little rat--!
observation deck
nice. that probably looked sick as hell.]
Woo! Space record!
no subject
Who the hell invited Overwatch up here?]
Nobody is keeping that record but you.
[And like the asshole he is, he flicks the shotgun shell at him the next time he tries to make a pass in his line-of-sight.]
no subject
he recovers quick enough, though, skidding to a stop. the shotgun shell bounces off the middle of his chest and lúcio bends down to pick it up, raising an eyebrow.]
Personal records encourage self-improvement, man.
[this fucker...
lúcio makes sure his tone is appropriately passive aggressive:] You dropped something.
no subject
Luckily, he seems to have found some.]
Keep it. Enjoy it while its empty.
[But not that much. Maximum edge!!!]
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I don't use shotguns. [he holds it out.] You can have it back.
no subject
[He's owning his right to litter.]
no subject
I'm gonna keep it then. Maybe see if there's some recycling around here.
[lúcio is going to get fucking shot but he KEEPS AT THE OBNOXIOUS OPTIMISM, skating around reaper slightly.]
Nice view, huh?
no subject
He rounds a corner, keeping close to the wall and hopefully out of the way-
One of the weird blue squid things comes zipping by right overhead. His eyes follow it briefly before he realizes the thunderous footsteps seem to be heading right for him. ]
no subject
But since its out of his range and the turian is not, he will be the unfortunate recipient of his frustration.]
Where are these things coming from?
[He only briefly realizes that he's not talking to someone human, but that's a minor footnote to his rage. Because clearly the alien has something to do with this.]
no subject
They're fighting? Well. Okay. Guess they're fighting then. ]
Out of your ass, apparently.
[ If Reaper doesn't dodge, he's getting a gutful of armored Turian boot. There's enough force behind the kick to send most humans bouncing a good dozen meters. ]
Why the hell would I know?
no subject
There's a growl that comes from somewhere down the hall -- Nihlus might notice the glow on Reaper's arm where he has been bitten beginning to move as he shifts himself back into a standing position.]
You're right. No one in this hole is of any use. I should not have suggested that you would be any different.
no subject
The guy smells like smoke. It was an acrid scent that overwhelmed the more subtle, distinctly human notes. Curious.
When retaliation didn't come immediately, Nihlus squints into the darkness, spotting the little blue teeth marks floating in the gloom. Then the asshole speaks and he just about rolls his eyes right out of his head. ]
Okay?
[ Nihlus would laugh if he wasn't functionally blind and facing down a unfamiliar opponent. ]
I didn't realize attacking other people without provocation was particularly useful either, but okay?
[ Can't stop that sarcasm though. ]
no subject
[The blue marks disappear for a moment as Reaper's hand covers them and he tries to rub them away. It doesn't work of course, and by now, the damn thing has floated off into the unknown.
Great. At least it wasn't bleeding.
With that addressed, he can go back to sizing Nihlus up in the dark.]
What are you supposed to be anyway?
no subject
[ He tries his omni-tool again, but the device's light gets eaten by the gloom this time too. Looks like the only work he'll get done was enhancing the auditory and haptic interfaces for his devices for the day. It'll be pretty handy if something like this ever comes up again.
... Which he would get to work on if he weren't wary of getting clawed at again. ]
You really think you're going to get an answer asking a question like that?
[ He gets the impression that this new guy was a bit more used to people being decently intimidated by him. ]
There's a couple of other people around that you haven't pissed off. Try being nicer to them. You might get actual answers.
[ Or get his butt kicked by one of the more powerful crew members. Either or. ]
the first one
But he's woefully uninformed. He knows about as much as most people do, he thinks. Rumors of corpses sucked dry of life. Attacks on ex-agents, and, of course, the museum stunt. 76 didn't want to make this his business, but the mercenary clearly has it out for Overwatch, which means it has to be his business.
He has suspicions (just like people have suspicions about him). No proof. He thinks he would like nothing more than to be wrong. The fact that they're both here is interesting enough, and he's full of too many conspiracy theory nowadays to dismiss this as coincidence.
If Reaper doesn't know that he's being tailed, 76 will be sorely disappointed in the guy's abilities as a mercenary. He finally catches up at the observation deck, and he hovers in the doorway for a few long moments, as if deciding whether or not he's actually going to engage.
He will, of course. Not that he expects this to go very well. Reaper has surely heard of certain infamous vigilantes, too.]
Maybe you can tell me.
no subject
He'd occasionally dreamed of forcing them to mourn again, but there were always more pressing matters and more immediate gratification that he could obtain. Yes. He knew the vigilante was tailing him. Stopping only allowed him time to catch up, so he could get his questions answered on equal footing.
The shotgun shell pings wildly off a silver claw and makes a loud crack against the viewport.]
Probably has something to do with talent. Or special interests.
[He turns just enough to look at 76.]
Or are you not allowed to have your own opinion?
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[He's got lots of opinions, but his tone of voice implies he's not about to share them with Reaper. 76 straightens up from his spot leaning against the entrance way, unflinching at the sound of the shell and its metallic ping. He'll even venture another step into the room, though he makes sure to keep himself between Reaper and the door, not about to have his exit cut off.
There's a laugh to be had here, somewhere, but he doesn't think he could muster one even if he tried. Instead, it's silent as 76 very obviously sizes him up.]
Guess special interests is one way to put it.
[That special interest, of course, being Overwatch.]
no subject
Reaper lets the silence hang between them for a few moments. 76 hadn't shot him yet, so he obviously wasn't there to put him down -- at least not without answering a few questions for himself.]
C'mon. Share with the class.
[Now, Gabriel finally turns his body, arms folded enough that his claws are not visible amidst all the black. After all, he's not going to face a known vigilante without being prepared to receive him. But he doesn't draw any weapons yet.]
Not very chatty, are you?
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In any other situation, he might raise the gun and start firing, but there are far too many unknowns. 76 hasn't managed to convince himself that this very ship isn't a threat, to say nothing of the people who run it, and he thinks that blasting up the observation deck might make a bad impression--put him in a situation he might not necessarily want to be in.
He laughs a little darkly, if one can call it that, a half-growled sound in the back of his throat. No, he's not very chatty.]
I've heard of you.
[Of course he has, but it seems like a good opener as any. 76 doesn't want to betray more attachment to Overwatch than he's already let on, what with his breaking into their old bases, and all, but they are talking about shared interests, and this will likely be his only chance to try and get some answers.]
You're killing ex-agents. Pays well?
no subject
[#justsaying
He sees the rifle, no doubt just the same as 76 has seen his hands in his trenchcoat. He knows its rate of fire -- or at least, he likes to think it does, if its still standard issue. There's always a chance that its been modified.
Pulsefire hadn't killed him yet. He doesn't expect the trend will start now. Rather than let on that he's inspecting how well 76 will be able to retaliate, he answers the other man's question with a chuckle.]
Sometimes. Got one for me?
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[Which isn't entirely true. Technically speaking, he's the agent to end all agents, but all of that is just rumors and speculation tossed around by the media and not otherwise given much thought. He doesn't want to give Reaper any reason to beleive that those wild conspiracy theories are true.
He gives a little shrug. They're both sizing each other up, and his finger worries at the trigger of his gun, as if he's still deciding whether or not it's worth it to engage.]
Makes me wonder why you've got it out for them.
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[He would have had to have heard about Gibraltar or would have had to been watching him to figure out he was targeting them specifically. And if he had that kind of interest in Overwatch, then he himself was an agent, or he was competition.
Of course, Reyes has more than enough reason to be targeting ex-agents. Talon's interest was much more shallow, and well known to anyone following.]
Now that I think about it, all those shiny toys are a nice motivator.
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76 has learned a lot, snooping around in old bases. It doesn't mean he's any closer to the truth, but it's better than complacently accepting the popularized version of Overwatch's fall. He'd stumbled on the recall message while digging, and there had been, of course, the museum stunt. He's not sure how he's supposed to feel about it, but he supposes it's a moot point now that he's been kidnapped into space and signed himself over to this ship.
So maybe he's just looking to take his anger out on someone, in the end.]
Not that hard to get. [If you know what you're looking for and have the skills to do it (so, maybe a little hard to get). And if killing agents only pays...sometimes?] If you're not in it for the money or the tech, what are you in it for?
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[Who is this guy, poking and prodding around his business? Nobody cares about a couple of dead Overwatch agents -- the organization was decommissioned and nobody wanted them except a bunch of museums. By over half the world's standards, he was doing them a favor.
But the reality is, the only person he's servicing is himself. Killing is easy -- death is what he knows. Revenge like a lifeline that keeps his stopped heart pumping.]
Maybe I'm bored. Maybe I get my jollies out of taking out the trash. Maybe I'm just crazy. But none of that should matter to you, or anyone else.
(no subject)