Oh, Look! STUFF!!

[cityship]

After being de-slimed--for the most part--and wrapped in discomforting, dark green, plant-like body-suits--that not only left little to the imagination, but also seemed to be breathing--the newly pod-popped crew all happen to congregate in the Weapons and Possessions Lockers at the same time. This cavernous warehouse of a chamber has shelves and shelves and racks of belongings and weapons that go off as far as the eye can see. Everything from massive sidearms to impossibly huge swords, to Hello Kitty lunchboxes.

Their own belongings are here near the front--they've been moved to make finding them more easy, but it will take a bit of hunting.

Either way, they won't be searching alone. Everyone's piling in at the same time.

Comments

[wolf-that-grins.livejournal.com]

"Yes! My Gym bag!" Wags shouted, pulling the bag off the top of one of the lcokers, rifling through it, pulling out objects that wouldn't normally fit in a bag of its size.

"Guitar, baseball bat, lockpicking tools, and my Night Vision Goggles." He said, pulling the leather aviator gogglesm his forehead. "Looks like everything's here."

[playsin-traffic.livejournal.com]

"Nice," Plays mutters as he sifts through the lockers, trying to find his own stuff, "Not bad at all."

A moment later, he's pulling out a backpack, which seems to mostly be filled with random assorted bits of junk - empty cans and bottles, bits of string, broken knives, a screwdriver, a broken CD-player, a smashed iPod...

[wolf-that-grins.livejournal.com]

Wags tuned the guitar, humming a few bars of Henry the 8th I Am as he did so.

"Nice collection of stuff."

[purep4zaak.livejournal.com]

"Thank you. Someone seems to like me at least a little bit... but obviously not enough to get me off of this stupid ship." Atton is mostly talking to himself, but he's rather relieved to find his gunbelt, blaster, pazaak deck, and slicing tools there and intact. Unfortunately, no clothing.

"Come on... gotta be something here..." He's tossing stuff out of the way as he digs, without regard for who's stuff (or what) he's ditching in his quest for more of his own gear.

[wolf-that-grins.livejournal.com]

"Hey. HEY! Watch where you're throwing that stuff would you?"

[purep4zaak.livejournal.com]

"Be quiet kid, I'm trying to find something!"

[bostonbeatcop.livejournal.com]

Robert watched the others for a moment, picking at the strange, disturbing clothing he had been given before beginning to dig for his own possessions. There we go. A belt holding several pouches worth of speedloaders, a shoulder holster rig containing his handgun (a Colt Trooper in .357), the shoulder bag holding his camera, lenses and film...and the rifle. The one he'd carried and treated so well throughout all those months, that had saved his life. He carefully opened the case it was contaaned in and went through the contents. A bandolier. Ammunition. 10 en-blocs. And the rifle itself. He picked it up, hefted it, then turned it over to examine it for any damage. A soft sigh of relief as he confirmed that it hadn't been harmed, thank God.

He slid the shoulder rig on, then the belt. He felt better now, knowing he could defend himself. Then, over the shoulder went his camera bag, the rifle case balanced in one hand.

[thethirdhalfa.livejournal.com]

"Hey, you have a lot of stuff. Wouldn't happen to have a hair tie, would ya?" Dani asked Robert. Of course, thinking that they were on an alien space ship anyway, why would anyone mind if one little girl bothered to ask this question while floating in the air, bending over someone so she could look them in the eye when she asked.

Social common sense? Did not exist for this girl right now.

[bostonbeatcop.livejournal.com]

"Holy Mary!" Robbie jumped backwards at the sight of a girl floating (floating!) in front of him.

Greetings thread?

[anoldtrickster.livejournal.com]

"Helloooo?" Wednesday calls with a puff of breath, leaning against a wall near the entrance to the Lockers. "Hello-the-new-people?" To look at him, he'd seem a little lumpy and out-of-breath... almost comical, really. And in a rather disarming way.

Re: Greetings thread?

[playsin-traffic.livejournal.com]

"Heya, old man. Didn't see you in the room fulla pod-people, so I guess you're one of th' people already on board?"

Plays scratches at his head, eying Wednesday skeptically, "You got any answers? Like where the fuck are we?"

Re: Greetings thread?

[anoldtrickster.livejournal.com]

"It's a starship—a damn huge one, actually, as far as I can tell." He proffers Antonio a broad, callused hand. "Welcome to crazyland, population us saps who got unconsciously roped into doing we-don't-know-what-yet."

[brainy-bot.livejournal.com]

The size of the room made him pause for a moment, staring as far as his (considerably advanced) eyes could see into the darkness. There appeared to be no end to the boxes though, and eventually Brainiac 5 gave up trying to work out the dimensions of the room and turned his attention instead to the closest of the various containers that others were eagerly going through.

Unfortunately he didn't notice anything that seemed familiar or intended for himself. Judging from what others had been finding, he'd half expected to locate a box with the familiar Legionnaire's symbol, but if it was there, he'd missed it.

"Stacy," he asked, unconsciously adopting the same way he had of speaking to C.O.M.P.U.T.O., "where are my things?"

[cityship]

Tentacles gather something and then hold it out to him.

||Your belongings are here.||

[brainy-bot.livejournal.com]

"Thank you," Brainiac 5 said automatically, accepting the box and opening it. Inside were his flight ring and belt, both of which he quickly clipped into place with a vague sense of relief. Admittedly he was far from vulnerable without them, but he'd grown somewhat attached to having them there.

...wait, according to these readings, there were two other Legionnaires within range.

[sexygman.livejournal.com]

"Man this thing is ugly." Booth hates the podsuit. "It's so...un-manly, like one of those exercise suits or something." He doesn't have a lot to collect as he piles in, but he does get his gun back, and for some reason his badge. Not that he really thinks the FBI has any authority around here. He's glad his wallet's there too, because he's already angry at being away from Parker, and at least the pictures are there.

[bone1ady.livejournal.com]

Temperance wasn't exactly ebullient over the green suit that Stacy had given her, but after finding out what the purpose of it was, she was a bit more willing to wear it. Though some of the its aspects left a lot to desire if you asked her.

Which of course no one was.

Her lips turned down as she looked around what the computer voice had said was the Weapons and Possessions Lockers. There were others gathered, and most seemed to already be digging through a pile of things, supposibly for their own belonging.

Approaching the pile, she skirted around some of the others who were digging through it and decided to start on the opposite side. It didn't take her long to find her yellow protective glasses she used while working. She had also found a duffle bag of her intruments.

Sadly there was no gun. Even the ship wouldn't let her have a gun. How fair was that?

"I want a gun..."

[notamission.livejournal.com]

Okay so the suit? It was creepifyin and not in the sort of ways River could be. It reminded Mal of all the times he had to sleep on the ground during the War which had been the majority of his experience being a Browncoat. Not that he minded that much at all because there had been a cause behind it all, but this? Ugh. Also finding out he was on another ship that was not of Alliance fashion was only slightly comforting.

Seeing more people made the former Independent grin slightly. It was nice knowing he wasn't the only one in a situation that was less than favorable and rather discomforting. Approaching where a woman was at off to the side, Mal looked at the pile of stuff and sighed. "Guess we don't get no help in this do we?" he asked lightly, crouching to start tossing stuff that wasn't his back into the pile after giving the items a look over. More than half of the stuff he had never even seen before.

[electricityjolt.livejournal.com]

So there were other people here. Elle had been wondering about that. What was the fun of being "chosen" if everyone else was too...?

Either way, they interested her considerably less than the contents on the shelves. She strolled along down the aisle, inspecting each bizarre gadget after the other. Honestly, it looked to her like it was just a storage closet for props. Did any of this weird crap actually belong to anyone? She peered over at a particularly conspicuous laser gun and considered firing it, but reluctantly decided against the idea. While it'd definitely prove its authenticity, she didn't want to encounter any more tentacles. Oh well. At least the swords were pretty cool.

Fortunately for Elle's limited attention span, she soon spotted an incredibly familiar shiny handgun and quickly yanked it out from behind a collection of katana. It was her old Company gun! How on earth did they got a hold of that? The last she'd seen it, it had been confiscated by Angela and put back in the holding facility in Texas.

She tilted the gun to the side, examining it. It was definitely the same one. While Elle didn't use it often, the familiar source of back-up made her feel a little more comfortable with the entire situation. She didn't like being locked up somewhere without knowing why, but it wasn't as if she wasn't used to the feeling. Besides, since her expulsion from The Company, she had nowhere else to go and nothing left to do. The tentacle ship didn't seem to want to kill her, which meant it was a preferable alternative to being back on that beach with Sylar.

Elle cheerfully slammed a cartridge into the bottom of the gun. Maybe this wasn't so horrible after all.

[aworldnevermade.livejournal.com]

The sound of the magazine hitting home is matched by a near-identical one on one of the opposite sides of the racks and shelving of the aisle Elle's in. It's only after a short pause that enough of the junk starts pushing over for a jet-black face covered in white markings to peer out from behind it, a noticeably large and unfamiliar pistol held in hand with fingers well away from the pistol.

(The rest of the pile helps cover the fact that the woman isn't actually wearing anything—mostly. The bare arm and neck are pretty easy to spot, though...)

[servantoformazd.livejournal.com]

Elika watched as the other new arrivals began searching, finding their personal possessions. They had bags and strange weapons and the princess, dreadfully uncomfortable in this new, strange suit, watched them with what appeared to be mild disinterest. Her deep brown eyes scanned the lockers, unable to imagine how any of it could be hers.

She stopped, when she saw a smallish wooden box, old and appearing to be carved from driftwood. Her heart stopped in her chest, eyebrows arching towards the he hairline as she approached it slowly. It wasn't much different from the jewelry box her mother had given to her when she was younger.

She'd seen the box at the market, in a booth that sold various items made of driftwood and had liked it immediately. Later that evening, her mother and father had surprised her with the box, with a beautiful necklace and matching bracelet and anklet.

Elika's fingers brushed against the smooth, worn wood, a small sound escaping her as it felt exactly how the jewelry box felt when she first accepted it from her mother. Cradling the box with one arm, she opened it slowly, her chin trembling as the same jewelry sat in the center of the box. Her fingers found the necklace and she'd lifted it from the box. Elika closed the box, setting it into one of the cubby holes, and lifted her other hand to the necklace, unclasping it, then circling it around her neck, connecting it at the back. It was a stark contrast to the dark green bodysuit, but it was a small part of home.

[wantstobebatman.livejournal.com]

Tentacles... oh god. Tentacles had not been pleasant. He didn't trust the nice AI lady not to be leading him into a death trap, but being that there was nowhere else to go and that he got no gut-sense of maliciousness about the room with all the vines in the ceiling he'd stepped inside.

It took them three tries to grab him, two more to actually get all of his limbs pinned, and then they'd merely sucked the slime off his body (even the cowl) and given him a terrifying wetsuit with a freaking PULSE to wear.

So far his money was on one of two things. An elaborate hallucination brought on by a RIDICULOUSLY traumatic head-injury from falling over in his chair or being kidnapped by something out of a science fiction novel. Either was likely, but given what his life was like and how disturbingly real everything felt... the latter was likely the truth.

The weapons locker he was funneled to next at least got him his gear back - lab coat, tie, katana and stethoscope were all waiting, folded neatly on a shelf - and there were other people there too which gave him SOME hope. They all looked as bewildered and irritated as he felt.

Knotting his tie into place to start he leaned toward a young woman closest to him.

"Hey, uh... have you got any more idea of where we are than I do? That is to say 'any idea at all'?"

[staturity]

"Whoa." Cassie hadn't expected so many people to be there.

[nothawkingbird.livejournal.com]

Kate was passing by the lockers on her way to the media library. She heard some noise with the people there but then heard one... familiar one.

She stepped inside, and her eyes widened.


".........Cassie?"

[governmentninja]

Leon looked around at the other people who had been captured. All races, varying ages, including some teenagers. All dressed in these damn plant suits.

He didn't speak to anyone yet, though. He was still in observe and record mode.

His own stuff was easy enough to find. And everything but his actual clothes were there. His ID, knives, guns, holsters, and even some spare ammunition. Everything appeared to be in working order, but he didn't fire anything off to test it just yet.

But it still begged the question: What kind of kidnapper gives their hostages weapons? If anyone there had even a remotely similar experience to what he went through, they probably had just as many questions, and just as few answers, as he did.