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Entry tags:
- !!stacy,
- !location: pod caverns,
- !plot: pod release,
- adam monroe,
- anakin skywalker,
- angua,
- asuka langley soryu,
- faruq,
- heero yuy,
- jamie mccrimmon,
- jason todd,
- khel no'gran,
- kyle reese,
- luis sera,
- mikagi,
- miles edgeworth,
- nanoha,
- obi-wan kenobi,
- oliver johnson,
- otacon,
- pikachu,
- roy mustang,
- scarlet levy,
- shadow link,
- shimoa guado,
- shinkenblue,
- the bone lord,
- the major,
- trunks,
- vash,
- zatara
Pod Pop initiating
[ooc: Newbie Helpers List | Instructions: Post your character with one post establishing them as being podpopped. If you would like to play out them talking to the AI, please send an email to the mods making the request--we do this only by request. Then move onto the big Newbie Meeting. Once your character has gotten the rundown from the old crew, you may start posting entrance posts and freely tagging.]
||Pod Release Protocols Initating|| Stacy's familiar voice sounds out to all the podmates through the ship.
In the Pod Caverns, there are the sounds of: Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.
There is condensation and mist spraying out from cracks in the pods, as the people inside slide out onto the floors, covered in slime.
--
There was nothing. You were going about your normal life, then there was a bright light, and then? Nothing.
Then the world lurches.
The chamber here is humid.
Actually, "chamber" isn't quite accurate. You're in a cavern, half-lit by an eerie greenish light, going on and on as far as the eye can see. The light is coming from what can only be described as pods, glistening, round greenish-yellow things, glowing with a pale inner light, outlining human -- and not quite human -- forms. Each is rooted to the floor, to the walls, with something black, twisted, and unidentifiable.
They line the walls of the cavern, go up in maddeningly high columns, curling and corkscrewing up into the darkness, until the light from them is like that of the stars, glowing pale and mournful in clusters in the darkness above. Twisted walkways and stairs crisscross, traverse the platforms in front of the pods, wending their way back and forth, up and down through the chamber.
You just came from one of those pods, broke free like a butterfly from a (slimy, nasty) chrysalis.
Now you stand alone but not quite alone, naked, not knowing how you got there, who took you, or why you were taken.
As your body heats up again, you realize the air is warm -- just a few degrees too warm to be comfortable -- and muggy; it smells acrid and organic, like freshly spilt blood and sweat. Your mouth tastes of salt.
The floors are pulsing under your feet, throbbing...
Wherever you are, this entire place...is alive.
Oh, and also you're naked and covered in alien snot.
When you call out, ask where you are, a voice speaks to you, in your head. She tells you:
||You are here.||
When you ask who she is, she tells you that her name is STA'C K'LTRRB'TXFT, but that you may call her Stacy. When she tells you who she is, there is a gush of emotion, love, maternal warmth. You are on a ship. She is that ship. Her name is Stacy and she loves you.
Glowing phosphorescenet lights appear in pustules along the floor. They lead you up a massive spiraling walkway that gives you a view of what are possibly millions in stasis. At the top is a room with moving vines that clean you and clothe you in a plant-like body-suit--soft, but durable. After that, the lights lead you to a great cavernous room with a clear floor that lets you see all the holes and tunnels in the walls of it. When you reach the center, the last thing she tells you before whisking you away to gather your belongings and meet the rest of the crew is this reassuring thought:
||You have been Chosen to accomplish a Great Purpose.||
||Pod Release Protocols Initating|| Stacy's familiar voice sounds out to all the podmates through the ship.
In the Pod Caverns, there are the sounds of: Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.
There is condensation and mist spraying out from cracks in the pods, as the people inside slide out onto the floors, covered in slime.
There was nothing. You were going about your normal life, then there was a bright light, and then? Nothing.
Then the world lurches.
The chamber here is humid.
Actually, "chamber" isn't quite accurate. You're in a cavern, half-lit by an eerie greenish light, going on and on as far as the eye can see. The light is coming from what can only be described as pods, glistening, round greenish-yellow things, glowing with a pale inner light, outlining human -- and not quite human -- forms. Each is rooted to the floor, to the walls, with something black, twisted, and unidentifiable.
They line the walls of the cavern, go up in maddeningly high columns, curling and corkscrewing up into the darkness, until the light from them is like that of the stars, glowing pale and mournful in clusters in the darkness above. Twisted walkways and stairs crisscross, traverse the platforms in front of the pods, wending their way back and forth, up and down through the chamber.
You just came from one of those pods, broke free like a butterfly from a (slimy, nasty) chrysalis.
Now you stand alone but not quite alone, naked, not knowing how you got there, who took you, or why you were taken.
As your body heats up again, you realize the air is warm -- just a few degrees too warm to be comfortable -- and muggy; it smells acrid and organic, like freshly spilt blood and sweat. Your mouth tastes of salt.
The floors are pulsing under your feet, throbbing...
Wherever you are, this entire place...is alive.
Oh, and also you're naked and covered in alien snot.
When you call out, ask where you are, a voice speaks to you, in your head. She tells you:
||You are here.||
When you ask who she is, she tells you that her name is STA'C K'LTRRB'TXFT, but that you may call her Stacy. When she tells you who she is, there is a gush of emotion, love, maternal warmth. You are on a ship. She is that ship. Her name is Stacy and she loves you.
Glowing phosphorescenet lights appear in pustules along the floor. They lead you up a massive spiraling walkway that gives you a view of what are possibly millions in stasis. At the top is a room with moving vines that clean you and clothe you in a plant-like body-suit--soft, but durable. After that, the lights lead you to a great cavernous room with a clear floor that lets you see all the holes and tunnels in the walls of it. When you reach the center, the last thing she tells you before whisking you away to gather your belongings and meet the rest of the crew is this reassuring thought:
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"What the heck?" He muttered, looking around. This...was not the tower. That thing he came out of definitely was not the Dark Mirror. And Princess Zelda was nowhere in sight.
After a moment, he realized...he couldn't actually FEEL the connection to the Dark Mirror at all now. How did that happen? This wasn't the Shadow World, so it's not like Ganon sent him back, so...
And then he gets that voice in his head, telling him he was here, to call her Stacy with....with emotions he'd rather not think too much about, actually. And he was chosen to do something great after following the lights to a rather....uncomfortable meeting with the clothing devices.
Very creepy clothing. His clothes moved, sure, but they didn't PULSE. And a great purpose? That sounds like something for a hero to do. And he wasn't a hero.
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Incautious, she reached out, open connections in the computer that was herself, and felt like a wave of light around her the net. Blessed connection, but not The connection, and so, inwardly, she sighed. There were very few prisons that could isolate one from that all-encompassing, eternal flow of data across the surface of the human race that The Net had become, and certainly none of those were in Japan, unless one counted deep underwater, or inside a Faraday cage. Tentatively, she tried a radio signal, "Batou? Ishikawa?"
No response. Humbling, that cut-off silence, nothing but herself in the echoing emptiness; Batou had never failed her, before. Still, this was better than nothing, so the Major stepped out among the spilled and dripping muck that had come from her 'rebirth' and with a complete lack of body-consciousness struck out to find some answers.
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He quickly composed himself, body tense, and in a defensive stance, ready for anything. However, the only thing that comes to him is the warmth and that voice. Stacy? He calms himself a bit and looks himself over. This goop was probably the nastiest thing ever. . .
Lights? Lights were made to follow, so he does. He doesn't stop looking around though as he follows the path, his curious nature getting the best of him. And then suddenly he was clean and dressed. The way the suit fit reminded him of another suit he once wore not too long ago.
Chosen? That really didn't explain much to him. "What the heck..."
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“What the Hell is going on here?”
Her yell echoed in the massive chamber, “Someone needs to explain right now!”
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He found himself sitting, leaning, really in a puddle of goo, completely nude and inexplicably reassured by these facts. How odd, a voice that spoke into your mind. Puzzled, he blinked and looked about, concern written in every motion as the Jedi found his train of thought and his tongue in the same moment as he found his footing on the slick floor, "What in the name of the Force is going on here?!"
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It was three feet tall...green...insectoid...
...and extremely frightened.
Every so often it would call out in a clicking language, the translators only just able to make it understandable.
"Father!" it called as it followed Stacy's instructions, sounding almost like a small child near tears.
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"Where did you take him?" he clicked accusingly.
Well, Obi-wan is a human he doesn't know, and he does have a vaguely authoritarian way of speaking. Not surprising the little guy would jump to conclusions.
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A moment of impotent frustration— ah, this was skirting moral boundaries. No matter, it was necessary. They were in what amounted to enemy territory, and this was only a child. Obi-Wan touched the force gently with his mind, manipulating, suggesting, projecting a facade of truth and friendliness to his perception, and waved a hand at the little one, as if in greeting.
"I pose no danger to you," he suggested, "But you can't very well stay here. Let's go see if we can't find your father, hmm?"
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"Okay," he said, with a slight nod, before walking towards Obi-wan.
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"Who are you?" he asks.
...He was never really taught good manners.
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Oliver's a...curious...child.
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"A Jedi is someone who seeks to create peace," He explained, carefully, "We go around the Galaxy, and do our best to make sure that places where things have gone wrong are put right again."
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"I didn't know humans did that. They're usually really mean."
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His ears pricked curious as he approached diagonally, in slow steps, which was a strong calming signal directed at the small alien.
HELLO, he greeted the little prawn, halting a few steps away. His nose tasted the air. IS BANDIT. WHO R U?
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A dog!
Oliver likes dogs!
...Oliver's also eaten dogs before, but he does know that the living one's aren't for eating.
However, he's never seen a talking dog before.
"...Oliver," he says hesitantly.
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Bandit prefers the soft and curious approach, stepping forward until his snout is less than an inch away from Oliver's carapace. He sniffs; smells like bugs, like Stacy-juice, meat and faintly like cat food. Bandit likes cat food.
NICE 2 MEET U OLIVER-BOSS, Bandit replies cheerfully. HOW R U?
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And then there was the presence in her mind - it felt familiar, like how the mages of the TSAB communicated, but still strange and alien. Even so, the idea of a sentient ship was certainly not new to her (even if she'd never seen anything on this scale), so despite her discomfort and fear, she nods. "I... I understand."
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By the stars, he was covered in the stuff.
That whole idea seemed to freak him out more than the fact that he was lacking any clothing. He tried to shake the goo off of him, but he was far too covered.
Finally gathering himself together he rose to his feet. There was something off about this ship... something alive. about it.
He found himself kneeling back down again and placing his palm against the floor. He could feel it, the warmth, the life coming from everywhere around him. It was amazing.
But the thoughts all came crashing together. He needed to find out what was going on.
"I demand answers, now!" He called out to the empty air.
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"What is going on here?" He asked, trying to keep his voice as calm sounding as ever. He hated being in situations beyond his control and this was certainly one of those times.
"I was just on my way to the Council when this -- and why are we naked?!"
He tried to calm himself down again.
"And I assure you this wasn't my fault this time."
ohey. I know you.
"I'm not blaming you— whatever this is, it's clearly beyond either of us," Obi-Wan assured, holding one hand up to stem to tide of frustrated exclamations, "As to our clothes...I have no idea. I must say, this is the strangest kidnapping I've ever taken part in."
Orly?
He threw his arms up in the air. "This is just great. We are in the middle of a war, and now this happens. ... Do you think it was the separatists?"
Oh if it was them, they would have a lot to pay. He would find out who did this and why.
"I just don't understand why we are naked and covered in... whatever this is."
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Ah, yes, the slime.
"I'd...rather not think too long on it."
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He'd also would rather not be too concerned with the slime... but he'd like to get it off of him. And find some clothes, yes, that would be a good idea.
"I think we should look around. Find out more about this place."
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"What is..." she looked around, mouth slightly open, unable to register just what was going on.
Then there was the voice. Stacy. She stood, watching the lights ahead of her, eyes scanning the walls around her, before she dared move again, a last thought of the safety of Tammy and Andy moving her on.
She took the clothing and cleaning without a word, although she wore the same slightly disturbed expression on her face before she was pushed along again. Exhaling, she decided to just focus on finding other people, and getting a clear explanation of what was going on.
Because if she was dead, this was probably the most bizarre afterlife ever.
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Luis opened his eyes to find himself naked, laying on a floor and strangely lacking a massive hole through his chest. He checked a couple times but it was definitely gone.
And there was a voice in his head (a woman... sounded kind of hot) telling him she loved him and he was chosen for something or other. And now they were supposed to go somewhere else. That was all well and good, but he was mostly distracted with the lack of a mortal wound.
"Well," he said to himself, "That's funny."
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She brushed her soaking, gooey hair out of her eyes and shivered, following the path of lights in lieu of anything else more productive to do. It wasn't too difficult to explain why she was naked... Sure, there were the usual other irritating questions like "Where am I?" and "What's going on?" and "Why do they still let those damned wizards muck about with their experiments where other people can get hit with the runoff?"
It was hard to worry about them now though when her nose was being assaulted by ten thousand unfamiliar odors. People and... and not people, and whatever it was the walls were made of. Angua would settle for getting rid of the headache before worrying about anything else.
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He doesn't really think about anything, he just follows the corridor. He needed to find his things. He figured whatever, or whoever brought him here, would have stashed his things nearby. He wanted his gun, his jacket.. but he wasn't wearing his jacket when he had died. He had been in the bat suit.
"Fuck my life. I died as fucking Batman." His growled out curse sounded hollow even to his own ears. When was the world going to just let him go? And now he was here to 'accomplish a great purpose'? He hated the world, and all it's higher powers.
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Something...slime clung to his skin, and a foreign presence impressed itself on his mind. There were...holding cells. Human pods, all around him. Hundreds, maybe thousands. Wherever this was, he had no doubt it could have housed the entirety of the human race within its fleshy, inhuman walls. If there were anything in his stomach before, it would have found its way to the pulsing ground. As it was, whatever was left blended itself indistinguishably from the puddle of goo he knelt in.
He counted heartbeats until his own slowed enough to stand.
Was this death? Would he have spent a lifetime fighting metal just to be enslaved by it again after death?
He had to find someone else. The pods were too strong for him to force his way into, but if he had been released, perhaps someone else had, as well.
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"A great ... purpose?" it asked, its voice empty and echoing. "I am ... honored." With slow, shambling steps, it began to move, but as it grew more and more aware, so too did the strength and ease of its movements.
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A dream? he thought, wiping slime made of god knows what off his glasses and from his dyed brown hair. No, this is too lucid--wait where the hell are my clothes?!
Before he could give further thought to this pressing problem, Otacon heard the voice in his head...Stacy? What a nice name, accompanied with emotions the engineer needed like most people needed air. He went along with everything in silence, trying to think of just how he had gotten here if this was at all real.
"...Chosen?" he asked aloud, in a voice that came with no small amount of uncertainty.
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He was more absorbed in trying to mentally reach out to this...'being' Stacy. Another Plant? Whatever she was, she was alive. But he didn't sense that she was hostile. That helped him relax an inch.
What do you mean, chosen? his mind echoed.
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Edgeworth's consciousness returned to him slowly, and he stood there, blinking, staring at his surroundings without comprehension. He was naked. Naked and covered in something... nasty. Miles stayed still for a few long moments, watching as a few strings of goop slowly dripped from his hand. All of sudden, he started, letting out a gasp as the voice spoke in his head. The horror and impossibility of what he was seeing finally hit him. He stumbled backwards until he hit something solid, then slid to the ground, curling up into a ball, trying to hide his nakedness, trying to hide from... whatever all this was.
No. No. This wasn't real. It was a nightmare. A horrible, vivid nightmare. He'd had nightmares before. Miles closed his eyes and tried to think of the sun, of the courthouse. Soon enough, he'd awaken, and discover he'd fallen asleep at his desk. How foolish of him. He would make sure it never happened again...
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“…Scieska?” His voice was quiet but hard, cutting the silence around him. The lack of reply had him hunching over, peering around the corner, his tactile senses hyperaware of the rather disturbing slime slipping over his skin. This wasn’t the time to address his nakedness, though he supposed that it should have been a bit of a worry, considering the fact that he had been fully-clothed and in a very solid, locked room not two minutes ago. To say that he was disoriented would have been an understatement.
He, however, did not get the compulsory mental tour from dearest, darlingest Stacy; he chose to remain confused as, being a military man, calling out was not the 'wisest' move in his opinion. Trying to remain relaxed so that he might respond more easily and with freer thoughts, he edged down the hall, following the lights on the floor, hoping it would lead to something a little better than an empty pod chamber and pulsing floors.
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He was unarmed, wasn't he? Yes, he was. His eyes flicked around his surroundings as he moved to place his back against something. But what? There were just...containers? No, that wasn't the correct word. Whatever they were, he didn't like them and didn't trust placing his back to them. He lifted his arm to his nostrils and sniffed hesitantly, wrinkling his nose at the stench. The texture was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Slime. Thicker than blood, stickier than machine oil. He was very aware of the ground beneath him pulsing. It was, like everything else about his surroundings, nerve-wracking. On silent feet he padded forward, feeling for a gun he didn't have, fingers twitching with the need to grasp something or gesture to someone on his side.
But he'd get through this. He'd get through it without any bloodshed. He didn't know how, but he didn't need to. Like all answers, it would come in time.
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Neither was true, however, and this certainly was a new experience. Not the 'something projecting thoughts and feelings into his mind' part, but the apparent, living science fiction sort of surroundings. If he didn't know better, he would have thought someone like Maury behind this, but he knew Maury's work. He was familiar with subtle signs of telepathic hallucinations. Neither appeared to be true of this.
It seemed whatever had caused the flash of light in the alleyway had also brought him here.
He straightened, scanning blue eyes over the rows of stasis chambers. Clearly he would need to be wary. If this could put him in a stasis that stuck without moments of clarity, he would need to take care not to underestimate whatever had succeeded in abducting him.
Naturally, that it thought to use him for its goals meant that it had underestimated himself, but he would not return the favor.
First, he would need to address the ship and make certain that 'maternal love' it impressed upon him was directed properly. Most importantly, in ensuring it knew what name he would answer to.
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He reached up and ran his hands over his face, scraping off some of the excess goop and flinging it to one side. Now he could see, and he definitely wanted to get a better idea of his surroundings. They were less than reassuring, and he felt for the little knife that he generally had on him. He wasn’t planning on drawing it unless he had to - but he liked to know it was there, all the same. Unfortunately, all he found was more slime.
“Eh?” he muttered, and finally looked down at himself. On one hand, being stark naked and covered in snot wasn’t too far outside the realm of what was normal for Jamie. On the other hand...trying to find clothing wasn’t such a bad idea. And if Zoe had been brought here with him, she would need to be protected from whatever menaces lurked in this strange new place. He ignored the nagging thought that she’d probably be utterly fascinated and already off exploring their new surroundings. It wouldn’t be right, if he didn’t try to find her. He decided to try calling, just to see if she was here.
“Zoe?”
It wasn’t Zoe who responded, but someone else who had a name that made much more sense as ‘Stacy’, and made him think of his mother...or, oddly, the TARDIS. There was something about a ship and the promise of clothes, which was a highly reassuring thought. Relieved, he focused on that. Great purposes would just have to wait a bit.
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Stretching his neck, Mikagi registered his many companions, then chose to ignore them for the moment. He began to follow the lights, deciding to play along for the moment. It wouldn't hurt to figure out what this place was, at least until he could figure out where his woman was.
ahahah wat.
A wave of nauseous light-headedness washed over Shimoa Guado. He was sickly wet and felt nothing he was accustomed to: neither dry, rich, soft clothing, nor the cool marine air of his homeland, nor the pressure of magic at his extremities, nor any kind of certain command.
He received the order and manner of Stacy with a serenity that had much in common with panic. Inasmuch as he was not in control of the situation, he would remain in control of himself. But when that horrible bodysuit was painted onto him, his pulse quickened, and he broke out into a miserable sweat, suddenly loathing everything around him.
||You have been Chosen to accomplish a Great Purpose.||
Unaware that Stacy could feel his thoughts, his first response to the so-called reassuring statement was a dream of night-colored violence.