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Entry tags:
- !!shipwide announcement,
- !!stacy,
- !location: pod caverns,
- !plot: pod release,
- aeneas,
- beka cooper,
- booster gold,
- damian wayne,
- fate testarossa harlaown,
- gaius baltar,
- gandrayda,
- green arrow,
- guy gardner,
- hal jordan,
- hellboy,
- ice,
- indigo,
- john hancock,
- kazuya mishima,
- kyle rayner,
- malcolm reynolds,
- matt olsen,
- michael westen,
- nicholas angel,
- qui-gon jinn,
- rictor,
- rikku,
- wonder woman
Pods Will Pop
[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. Here is the OOC info.]
||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. Her voice is warm and motherly, even if these messages sound almost automated.
Glowing phosphorescent 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. You have been Chosen to help fight the Ohm, a race of insectoid beings that are the destroyers of worlds.||
||You have been Chosen as champions of life, as protectors of the worlds and peoples that are left. The others are waiting for you. They will explain everything.||
She will tell you nothing more. Your answers lie with these "others" she speaks of.
||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:
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. Her voice is warm and motherly, even if these messages sound almost automated.
Glowing phosphorescent 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 as champions of life, as protectors of the worlds and peoples that are left. The others are waiting for you. They will explain everything.||
She will tell you nothing more. Your answers lie with these "others" she speaks of.
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But the ship that was both a ship, and a woman who spoke to him, and not just spoke, but emitted warm fuzzy feelings of acceptance, love, and some 'greater purpose'... all of this felt much too akin to the sort of nightmarish reality he had grown accustomed to.
But something about this was even more wrong, all wrong. His first instincts were that this had to be some kind of Cylon game. Actually, those were his second instincts as well.
But he'd never heard mention of this race of 'Ohm' that 'Stacy' was on about, and for all Six's blather about him being the Chosen of God, she'd never alluded to any of this. He'd thought it all had something to do with the end of humanity, or the beginning of something new for both man and Cylon, but to be a protector? A 'champion of life'?
Not to mention she'd stated he would be fighting these alien insects.
He had a terrible, terrible feeling that they had Chosen the wrong person entirely.
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That was the best Rikku could come up with in her current state, the Al Bhed struggling to wrap her head around what had happened. She knew she was covered in something slimy, sticky, and felt worse than getting buried in a sandstorm back on Bikanel. Even worse, she was naked, and covering herself with her arms was proving a futile effort. She spat and coughed some at the salty taste in her mouth as she tried to remember what happened. They were celebrating, she thinks. Tidus had returned, hadn't he? And then... Nothing. "Y-Yunie?" Rikku called out quietly for her cousin, then louder, but all the response she got was the throbbing of the floor at her feet.
Wait. Why was the floor throbbing? Had she been swallowed?
Rikku didn't like this one bit. "Hey!" she cried, trying to suppress her fear with unnatural bravado, "Can I at least get a towel or something?" As if on cue, the lights on the floor lit up. Lights were to be followed, right?
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It was something Matt was unfamiliar of.
Emerging like a slime-encrusted human nightmare was a unique experience, something he felt was less than needed.
Something on the edge of his senses tingled a little bit as he was clothed and changed and hosed off.
Something FAMILIAR.
Unnoticed even by himself, his fingers tingled with magic before dying quickly. Was he...?
His expression went a little downcast as he looked around for that familiar presence on the horizon.
No doubt about it.
His Will-senses were tingling.
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But she doesn't need fancy scanners to see the pods. Millions of them. The ship itself seemed organic... Was that what was keeping her from getting a decent reading in this room?
"Ohm." She tries the word out. She doubts that any insectoids would be related to the unit of electrical impedance.
She lands, then starts walking. If she had been chosen, it was likely that the other Outsiders had been as well. All she had to do was find them.
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The next thing the captain knew, his eyes snapped open, and he realized he was lying naked on the floor, covered in warm sticky goo. Then he realized someone was talking to him, informing him that he was chosen to do something... to fight some insects called "the Ohm".
As he sat there processing what that someone ("Stacy", her name was), he kept thinking there had to be something he was missing.
Why he'd been chosen at all was one question among many that he had.
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Wait.
Kyle can't mind the bar. Kyle's dead.
Kyle's dead and Guy's on some damn alien ship where he can't even get revenge or finish what Kyle started.
Shit.
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If Grayson has to rescue him from this, Damian will die of shame. Whatever the situation is, he's perfectly capable of handling it himself.
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There was goo EVERYWHERE. It was a bit ridiculous, once it weighed down his hair and it was all slimy in his face, and he coughed and started wiping his eyes a bit uselessly. He'd done his fair share of weird things before, with... clowns and carnivals and pumpkins and even an afternoon spent walking in place on the same stair for about four straight hours that he didn't like to talk about, okay. But he was pretty sure this one took the cake.
He was so very naked. And rather cold. He felt like his nads were going to retract into his body. And who the hell was Stacy?
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Kyle slowly opened his eyes; the fact that it was even possible was shocking enough as it is. “What…” It was as if everything was moving in slow motion, he checked his kneecaps (because, who doesn’t check their kneecaps after blowing yourself up?) and then his stomach…that was all in place too. Finally he ran his fingers through his hair and frowned. “This is definitely not my brand of hair gel... and it looks like the only thing I blew off were my clothes. Great.”
Who knew that the Alpha Lanterns were such perverts? Their massive batteries which should have nuked him to kingdom come had only managed to burn Kyle’s clothes off and deposit him in some….odd…pile of slime. That was the deal with the Alpha lanterns. They were as much of a police force as the Policeman in the Village People.
Kyle flexed his fingers a bit, no ring but it was only a matter of time before it came back. He really needed to take a second and pat himself on the back for making it so that his ring could never go to someone else. It was just safer that way. “Hey…can one of you….” what were they anyway? “Little helper things… tell me where my clothes are and why does it smell like a locker-room…” Not like he was going to wait for an answer.... He'd done the goo thing before, and it wasn't a nice feeling..
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It was Kyle. Live and in way too much of the flesh.
"KYLE!" Guy shouted, storming up to him. "YOU GODDAMN IDIOT!"
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She stood shakily, trying her best to cover herself, and cautiously followed the trail of lights upwards, taking in the information given to her as Stacy answered her questions.
"The... Ohm?" Strange. In all her years working for the Time Space Administration Bureau, Fate had never one heard of these strange beings. Surely if they were such a threat, the TSAB would have heard of them... right?
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He also notices that his ring is not with him, which is what's bothering him even more than being naked. He looks at his surroundings and notices that this isn't Gotham anymore. So where the hell is he? He yelled out a "HELLO" and that's when something (or rather someone) speaking to him in his mind.
After the explanation, Hal was not satisfied with what he had heard. But he found no point in objecting to what was said to him so he, in good faith, followed instructions to gather his belongings and meet the "others". To say the least, he didn't feel so troubled anymore now that his ring was around here somewhere, but he knows he can't be here right now. There are Black Lanterns to be dealt with back on Earth. And he was worried about Barry.
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... It was the fact that she was naked. No breast band, no undergarments. Nothing. Even her hair tie was gone.
Pulling on the plant-suit-thing she looked around for her superiors. Certainly this was... something. Mithros she hated this kind of magic. Was it her drink last night? Had Pearl's men come for one last horrah at her? If that was so, where was Goodwin?
Beka Cooper did not trust this Stacy person.
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Its all Ollie could think of as he's covered in a strange translucent goo, unclothed, and hears that voice being spoken to him. Did someone spike his chili?
No, this was definitely not a hallucination. He stands up, looking around himself, noting the long spiral up of all the glowing pods that fade into nothingness - and thats when he feels his stomach start to lurch in a dizzying fashion. Luckily, the just 'born' man doesn't lose -- Well, he didn't have lunch, but that doesn't matter.
He seems a worried, wide eyed, and bewildered at the situation, especially with the more he takes in and actually notices... Holy crap, is he feeling the floors moving?! "Okay, Ollie," he tries to breathe out to calm himself down. "This is normal... This is - fine. Its not anything - not normal." This isn't helping.
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"What's going on Bea?" Pushing up from the floor she cast pale blues eyes about and found no sign of the Brazilian beauty, nor anything even remotely familiar. The white haired woman stood, sloshing off the slime from her body as she followed the direction up the stairs to find herself clothes and pushed on to a larger platform.
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Aeneas should have been thankful for this. For obvious reasons, he had other things to worry about.
As of now, priority one was checking to see if his few remaining memories were still intact. They were intensely precious to him, almost like little invisible children that ran rampant around his unusually empty mind; Aeneas could not fathom losing them. Again, he had already started out fresh once before--and that was hard enough, mind you.
A reassuring voice told him that everything would be alright, but between the 'being abducted onto a living meatship' and these god-awful plantsuits, Aeneas had his reasons for not believing her just yet.
He followed the other creatures silently and with a single hand over his forehead.
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Diana pushed herself to her knees, pulling against the hold of the slime, which conveniently covered her body, but only barely. A voice, speaking out to her. A sister? No, this wasn't human but it needed her help. Diana wasn't one to reject a cry for help, especially one which sounded so dire. But what did Stacy mean by others were here? They were all at home, last she saw. "Don't worry, sister. I'm here to help."
Then the smell hit her. It was almost enough to make her insides turn inside out, leaving her wishing she had some of that wondrous pink medicine with the funny name that helped with nausea. The salty taste in her mouth only made things worse.
Mouthing, attempting to spit out the horrid taste, her mind wandered, wondering exactly how she'd help out a ship against some world-destroying race while completely naked. Her outfit was revealing but completely naked? That just wouldn't do.
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What the hell was that? Slime? Gel? Pudding? Jello? He'd gotten caught in some pretty gross situations, but this one was ranking up there. He didn't stay put for long, especially given that he found himself lacking apparel. He didn't seem too caught off by it, as long as he didn't have to worry about other people staring.
Then again, perhaps it wouldn't be so terrible. He wasn't without good looks, after all. In the mirror, he wasn't against pausing, flexing a few times and noting what he needed to work on the next trip to the gym. Well, when he could get a chance to go. That wasn't happening anytime soon, he guessed.
"Skeets?" Where the hell was that computer when he needed it? He wasn't listening, obviously. Ignoring him, probably. Off with Rip likely. Where was Rip?
What was the last thing he could remember? Ted. He was gone again, but Goldstar...
He was adjusting to the salt in his mouth, like he'd dived into sand and slid across into the ocean. It lasted until he spotted dark hair, a fairly tan complexion, and a more than overwhelmingly toned frame. Woman. Woman, indeed. Naked woman at that.
I am man. Hear me roar.
That just couldn't do. So an arm lifted and he waved it back and forth, forgetting his own indecency, "Hey! HEY!"
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Eh, he'd had worse mornings.
Saito kicked on a cyberbrain diagnostic. All his barriers were green, which meant either no hack, or one so skillful there was nothing he could do about it. Frankly, he wasn't sure which he preferred. As a precaution, he was about to drop into autistic mode, when his cybercomm finished its automated site scan and a very familiar ID popped up:
0901.
Oh, hell. Two years of absolute silence and then she shows up here? He couldn't claim to be surprised; one isn't surprised at forces of nature, merely awestruck.
The idea of a spoof didn't even cross his mind. No one who was smart enough to pull it off could possibly be dumb enough to impersonate Motoko Kusanagi.
: Major? :
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Why was she not surprised? Motoko had been deep in the rotting hardware of Stacy's brain— if that idiot's broadcast hadn't annoyed her enough she'd never have been in range, but as it was she was already on the obs deck. Typical timing.
: What's your status? :
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...summed up his thoughts quite nicely.
Hancock was not interested in fighting insects. He was not interested in creepy tentacles, and clothes that throbbed, and a ship that apparently wanted to get its freak on with him, and this just felt all kinds of Wrong. In fact, all Hancock wanted right now was a nice, hot whiskey, and maybe a cozy dumpster to sleep in for the night.
And where was his hobo cap with the eagle insignia? Hancock loved that hobo cap. He could still remember the day when he took it from a dead man's head. It was a perfect fit, even if it itched occasionally.
A part of him wondered where he was, while a larger part of him wondered whether he was stoned.
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She fell out, naked... Then a voice spoke to her..a telepath?
"Stacy?" Heh. I think STA'C K'LTRRB'TXFT sounds more fitting, actually. The floor is moving. Pulsating. Definitely not on that old elevator to the control room anymore. "This wasn't part of the deal," she tells to no one in particular. There had better be a bonus involved for this. Still...
Gandrayda spits out a bit of the salty taste that had gotten into her mouth, shaking like a puppy to remove as much of that alien goo on her body as she could. Change. Adapt. It was her homeplanet's motto, and that was exactly what she was about to do. She'd been chosen. That alone spoke of her skills, didn't it?
This was going to be fun.
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The spray paint. The aviators. The bargain movie stack. The sea mine. The sword against his baton, the handguns, the bear trap, the arcade game which George Merchant had relieved himself on...
The first thing he did as soon as he stood was shaking his arms, exhaling deeply with squinted eyes as he felt and watched the slime ooze and drip off of his nude form. It was strange, that much was for certain, but Danny was placed to the back of his mind as soon as he heard the voice from above.
Her recognised it as warm, maternal, nearly loving, but he also realised this "Chosen" bull$h17 she was spewing was all a cover-up for a mass kidnapping that had taken place here. He wasn't the only one. It didn't take someone with the brain of Nicholas Angel to figure that out, either.
The lights came on, the area alive. He was only still a moment more before he wiping his forehead on his slightly-less-snotty arm and followed the lights with determined steps.
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... And a young girl flops out of a pod. "Flops" is an apt metaphor, for she remains on the floor, gasping for breath like a fish, her breathing labored, as though the action of breathing is tiring for her slight, atrophied frame.
Her heart begins to pound as the world spins into focus, and Clarita Locke regains consciousness.
... Hot. Wet. Sticky. Hard to move... ground. I am on the ground. Why am I on the ground? Fly. Can't fly. Can'tflycan'tflycan'tflypowersdon'twork!...
The girl begins to thrash feebly, but after a few moments, she gets a hold of herself and, panting, pushes herself into a sitting position, arms behind her.
"... *gasp*... Where... *gasp*... am I?" she asks to the world, looking around.
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A voice blooms into Clarita's consciousness. A warm, almost maternal voice but with just a touch of brittleness that suggests automation. Not from any clear source, she's not hearing it. It's just there.
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Stacy's voice in his head did nothing to answer the questions he had so Qui-Gon's only choice was to move forward - undaunted by the state of his undress. The loss of his lightsaber was unsettling though. How many times had he retrieved Obi-Wan's over the years? Too many to count.
As he followed the illuminated path the Jedi stretched out his senses to examine his surroundings without actually gawking at it. The ship hummed and flowed with a life like he'd never felt before from just a ship. It only fueled his curiosity to know more.
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Regardless of how often he'd been abducted, mindwiped, brainwashed, cloned, or any other calamity that befell him, it still didn't stop him from cursing the world in every language he knew. "Fucking stupid luck always landing me in the shittiest--." And that's when he saw it all. Blkown away wouldn't even begin to describe his feeling as everything came together.
"Where am I?" said to himself.