trans_9 | Once you pop the fun don't stop

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Once you pop the fun don't stop

[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.||

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That was (surprisingly) much less pleasant than the first time she'd been taken against her will and placed on an alien ship.

And the pulsing plant-suit was just wrong.

"Not this again..."

Now that was a weird wake up. Not that waking up naked and in slime was normal, but that wasn't the weirdest part. No, the weirdest part was she woke up and it actually felt she was waking up. Without the usual headache of getting zapped or otherwise knocked out. It was like back before she was in the experiment and was actually waking up normally.

That was weird. Then the slime made itself known. As well as lack of clothes. Then there was the fact the floor felt vaguely familiar. Something she only felt a long time ago though she was on one recently. She had only been on one of the ships with her body and she remembered it. After all, it felt weird.

"A living ship..." she muttered and her eyes widened as panic filled her. "Shit, how did they grab me?!" She yelped, jerking up. She couldn't be on the Kanshian ship with her body. That was bad because there was no way they weren't pissed at her. And the hive mind king SAW HER DO IT, so they all had to know what she did and she really didn't want to die.

Then...she paused, getting a good look around her. "This doesn't look like a Kanshian ship," she muttered. And what were the chances that they would change what their ships look like so dramatically being that whole hive mind deal? Not to mention the pods. The pods with people. "Where...am I?" This didn't fit with how the Kanshians acted before. Sure, they took prisoners, but that was prisoners they had mind controlled.

And then a voice was speaking in her head and then there are EMOTIONS running through her. Oh yeah, that definitely was not Kanshian. Kanshians were not that warm. Then she was told to where she could get clothes. Which...might be a good idea now that she thought about it.

It wasn't Kanshian. Or if it was, they were being particularly clever, but since she couldn't remember until a few minutes after the defeat of their invasion, it couldn't be possible they had organized this. Then again, she also woke up normally. They might have mind wiped her somehow. But the fact was, the ship was different. It was too big, too dark, and too...artistic, really. The Kanshians were possible....but not likely, she decided.

Then she got to the clothing area. And was changed. And good god, it was like being in a perverted anime fan's dreams. She shuddered after she was clothed. "A warning for the tentacles could be nice," she said. She knew far too much on what those things could do that she didn't need to experience them in reality, thank you very much.

Then she was told a why. "A great purpose?" She muttered. Oh, what joy. She really did get herself deep with the superhero thing. Was it so wrong to want to protect her city and just protect it? No, she has to be pulled along to all the weird things too. She sighed and headed to get her things and to meet the rest of the crew, hopefully to get a better idea of what's going on.

Though she really wished she just stuck with being a barmaid.

The raptor leaps to its feet, dripping slime. Six feet tall, mostly yellow in color and spotted almost like an ocelot. Every inch of the creature is taught with nerves, muscles jumping with adrenaline.

Sharp Tongue sneezes, clearing it from her nasal passages before sniffing deeply at the air, drawing in lungfulls of unfamiliar scent. No raptor, which makes her heart beat more quickly.

||Please follow the lights.||

The raptor whirls with a hiss, looking for the source of the voice and ignoring its instructions. She's disoriented, alone, and angry.

With considerable prodding, she will eventually be persuaded to move along like a good little podling.

This is the second time this week Marcus Wright has woken up naked someplace very strange, covered in something he'd really rather not be covered in, and to be honest he was getting a little tired of it. The lack of dead bodies around him was a nice change, though, as was the current lack of robots/people/people-shaped-robots trying to kill him and-- Kyle. Was he here? He had to be.

And getting (pulsating) clothes from tentacles dropping down out of the ceiling? It turns out that that's a hell of a lot creepier than getting them off of a corpse.

He couldn't figure out of the headache was from the flash of light, the voice in his head, or the apparent surprise stasis he'd been subjected to. He just knew that it was there, and so was he. When he had been in the middle of Cheyenne Mountain a moment ago, just about as deep as it went. The list of people who would want to grab him or the rest of SG-1 from the Mountain these days had gotten pretty short...and the list of those who could was nonexistent.

That was...nonexistent before he woke up in a ship worth years of nightmares, without the slightest clue how he ended up there--or how long it'd been since his last memories transpired.

This was generally what he considered a bad situation, even without the alien gook, and the lack of proper clothing. The surprise tentacle dressing aids? Those really did not help the situation at all. All-in-all, this was clearly not the greatest day he was ever going to have in life.

So far, however, for all of the unannounced kidnapping the ship dabbled in, it didn't seem outright hostile, and it at least provided his tags and Beretta. Although...what he was going to do for spare ammo, he hadn't a clue just yet.

One creepy, pulsing step at a time.

Vega is, first and foremost, afraid. This... ship? Whatever it is? It's WEIRD in here! Also, this slime is really gross.

But it's the being all by himself part that's the worst. Vega wants to call out for somebody, but he doesn't know who. Sarah? Why would Sarah be here? And beyond that, there's not anyone else he wants.

Some pants would be really, really great.

||Please follow the lights. You will be clothed.||

"Clothed?" Vega asks, not a little hopeful. Well, it's better than naked.

Tentatively, he follows.

One moment, Kira had been standing on the beach near where he lived in Orb, watching the starry skies --

-- and the next he was coughing, sputtering, covered in some sort of fluid and feeling entirely too warm. As he spun around, trying to recognize his surroundings in some way (and failing completely), his mind was racing. This didn't look like any architecture he'd ever seen on Earth or on PLANT. It was something he'd never seen before, and...

...well, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a bit taken aback, to say the least. Kira took a deep breath - the air was thick and humid - and tried to focus. Where was he? Where was--where was Lacus?! Wherever he was, he'd been taken without his knowledge. Someone that skilled could have easily taken Lacus as well, and Kira felt a momentary surge of panic that he had to try very, very hard to suppress.

Hell, it almost made him not care he was naked. But, he did. So he tried to cover himself as best as possible, still clueless as to where in the world he'd been taken to.

And then he heard a voice in his head. It was almost similar to the pressure he'd felt in the presence of Rau le Creuset in the way he felt the voice more than heard it. Despite its inhuman tone and surprising presence, though, it was almost ... comforting in a way. But could Kira really trust that whoever had taken him from his home like this truly meant him no harm?

Edited 2009-07-01 22:42 (UTC)

Being thrust into unexpected situations was hardly something Claire Redfield would ever be completely used to. Of course, previous to this, the unexpected was something she could deal with. Zombies, monsters, whatever.

Waking up covered in goo and naked as the day she was born was an entirely different matter. A plainly baffaled look on her face led her through the hall as the voice in her head spoke to her, and she habitually crossed one arm across her chest, despite no one else being around. Part of her wanted to linger, investigate just what was in the pods lining the place she'd woken up in, but the lights provoked her on, so on she went.

Getting grabbed up and manhandled by a bunch of fresh vines wasn't on her list of expected experiences either, but it was over quick enough and she was no longer naked. The suit wasn't exactly something she'd have chosen, but...

"I look like something out of an awful B-rated Sci-Fi movie," she muttered, finding dark humor in this extremely bizarre situation. She half expected to wake up any second, so blowing out a heavy breath and raking her hands through her hair, she continued on.

In Yoshimi's opinion, it was quite disconcerting to go, in the blink of an eye, from one's cramped, messy apartment, cat-in-lap, to the floor of strange place that she was absolutely sure she had never been/seen/heard of before.

In Yoshimi's opinion, it was also quite horrible to look down, wondering why everything felt so much more... intimate, and discover that she was not only stark naked but also covered in something so very gross that she didn't even want to begin trying to figure out what it was. A few foul words slipped from her mouth, not in any particularly emphatic way, and she reached a hand up to brush her hair out of her face.

The necessity of the action brought her up short, and she froze, this seeming to get to her more than anything so far. After glancing hopefully at her wrists for a rubber band, she realized that she had nothing with which to tie her hair up. The foul words were much more emphatic this time, and she stood up, glaring at the goopy strands of pink hanging in her face.

"Ganesha, you are not doing this to me," she muttered, frowning. After a moment of silence, she raised her voice. "Hey, if someone's going to come rape and murder me, please get it over with! I don't really like the whole pulsing floor bit, nor do I really appreciate being covered in... whatever this is!"

No one physically replied; in fact, she didn't hear or see any signs of other inhabitants. She stood blankly for a long moment when someone spoke to her in her head, and she twitched visibly. The warmth in that voice made her feel odd, though; people didn't usually speak to her like that unless they were her parents, and she hadn't spoken to them for several months now.

||You are in no danger here. Follow the lights and you will be cleaned and clothed.||

Yoshimi blinked, looked around quickly, and sighed.

"Well, if I'm gonna be held hostage, at least my captor is compassionate..." she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest self-consciously and following the voice's order. It didn't occur to her to question the sanity of listening to a person in her head; if she was going to go insane, it would have happened long ago, so she didn't think it likely at this point.

The cleaning and clothing process was, needless to say, quite disturbing and uncomfortable.

She had lain on the floor for a long time, her eyes shut, refusing - for the moment - to accept this new path she'd been set upon. This was not the way it was suppose to be. This was not her path. She knew that, she knew it with a certainty.

She could hear the voice in her head, one that did not belong there, assuring her that she was alright, trying to make her feel better, trying to press it's heretical feeling upon her. Finally asking if she needed medical attention, a sedative perhaps.

Ghanima Atreides needed nor wanted anything from this thinking machine who was still talking to her in her head. She was growing to dislike it more than she did the Baron's voice.

Reluctantly, Ghani had risen and followed the pulsing lights. Clothing, she had to admit was something she really did desire. But, when she'd been grabbed, and tentacles began manhandling her as they tried to wrap.. She hadn't known exactly what they were trying to wrap her in, but she did not like it. She had fought back. Grabbed a few of the offending vine like things and tried to rip them apart.

She'd been sternly told she'd aquired a violation.

She could have cared less.

Finally she was set back on her feet, and Ghanima shot a look around her of pure and utter hatred.

"Greater purpose indeed," she muttered, refusing to believe anything that was being said to her. She'd been kidnapped by a thinking machine, and she was suppose to believe it was for a greater purpose? Not likely.

The Water of Life.

Arha still swam in it, still moved, her legs rubbery, a voice that should not be in her head. This Stacy. Atificial. Not Human. A machine, then. A thinking machine. Revulsion kept her curled tight in on herself as the creature-thing, this living machine, this thing that would not let her be. It. It was not a she it was an it. No mother, this. Not hers.

GET OUT.

Get out.

But there was no more than this. Eventually, she moved, for remaining still was not a choice. Following the light as indicated, much to her ire, found her in a room. Arha closed her eyes, trying to shake off the way the drug pulled at her awareness. Still adjusting, still changing.

She felt the first tentacle come and dodged it, hissing. More comforting words. She did not want comfort. Arha wanted her desert, but her desert was not here. It was only the fear litany that finally eased her struggles. She was clean, if furious, and silent as she moved, clothed in a plant like suit.

She did not like it and yet was forced into it.

This was not the Way. This was not where she was supposed to be.

No greater purpose was to be served when it was not of her own free will.

Being stuck in strange circumstances was certainly nothing new for Frank DeFresne otherwise known as 'Doc'. Having an AI take control of his body periodically was among them. So he wasn't that surprised. What was surprising was that the clothes he was wearing seemed to be alive.

"Well this is different now."

The last Jeka remembered, she had been holding onto Triad and Karate Kid's hands for dear life as they and the rest of the Legion as they whipped through the null space between dimensions. So finding herself here, alone...

Well, she'd come very close to getting jabbed with a needle full of sedatives.

But she'd restrained herself and gotten cleaned up, then been able to retrieve her Legion flight ring and her belt with its pouches, the supplies within them intact. Including her Omnicom, which she immediately put to use -- and promptly found Brainiac 5.

She was out of there, flying so fast that she left Weapons and Possessions in more disarray than when she found it.

Slime, heat, a voice in her head, naked , lights, tentacles, clothes. Soothing. Doctor Carolyn Lam was unprepared for them all. It was the tentacles that truly woke her up. Who wouldn't be woken by tentacles cleaning them? At least the suit she was placed in was clean and dry and-- Well, it was a little uncomfortable.

Maybe more uncomfortable than she wanted to admit.

Somehow she'd get used to it and she wasn't going to be afraid. Not even if... She looked up and around yet again. Lam was in a living ship, the floor pulsed, the air was different.

And it was still terrifying.

She resolutely stepped forward. If nothing else, her determination would carry her through. Great purpose or not, there was an answer for everything and she was going to go find it.

The last thing he remembered was trying not to drown in the Hudson River. So, he supposes this is a slight improvement. Not that this is great improvement. He could do without the naked part and the covered in.... whatever the hell he is covered in.

Instinctively, he felt for his sidearm, momentarily forgetting his state of both undress and being disarmed. He took a second to realize he wasn't in any pressing danger... aside from the living ship that seems to have kidnapped him part. Though still tense, Snake finally started to relax... but not before muttering, "...not good," to himself.

The only response he gave to the voice of Stacy was a grunt or two. He could tell he wasn't about to get answers from... it? Her? Time to find his own answers...

And maybe some clothes.

There was a brief moment when he wondered if he'd died. The last thing he remember was having his throat cut by that hooligan. And then he'd passed out. For a long time it seemed. Must have been a coma. He mused. Wiping the gunk out of his eyes, he took stock of his situation. Taken captive, naked, and with no idea where he was. The voice in his head wasn't very reassuring either.

Following the minimal instructions he received from Stacy in answer to his questions, he went to be clothed and perhaps better learn the nature of the ship he was on. Not to mention get something to eat. Anger could be saved for later. At the moment, he needed to find out how he was going to escape, and who he could ~~use~~ get to help him.

Running his fingers through his, now dry, hair, he walked off through the ship, following the directions of the voice in his head.

She is alive.

Oddly or perhaps oddly enough this is the first and foremost thing in her mind. The feel of metal in her body was still fresh to her nerves, though the ink had faded, the blood gone, the wound sealed.

Diana is alive, and that should be impossible.

It should be and yet here she is, with a taste in her mouth that swallowing will not rid her of. Glancing tells her that the room is huge and that she is not the only one in her current state; whether or not that is a good thing or not remains to be seen.

Great Purposes or no, Diana has no desire to be without clothing or an explanation for longer than is absolutely necessary...with that in mind she moves onward, certain that since she has already encountered death once before this - whatever the hell this happens to be - could not possibly be worse.

Wilimena Morgana Daergina Annaxandra Projectra Velorya Vauxhall, known as Princess Projectra to most and Jeckie to very, very few, was not a young woman who was in the habit of cursing. She was, after all, a princess - royalty. Cursing was beneath her. That's what the peasants did.

And yet, as she found herself on the ground, naked, covered in slime, the first word that was out of her mouth was, "Sprock!"

Rising to her feet, she discovers that she's covered in - "Sprock!"

And then she notices that there are other naked people around her and some of them are most likely peasants. "Sprock!"

She was about to curse again when a voice spoke up.

||Please follow the lights. You will be clothed.||

While every part of her wanted to rebel against the voice, some instinct inside of her told her listen.

So, she did.

Moments later, she found herself wearing the most atrocious excuse for an outfit...but she also had her Legion flight ring and her cape, along with some of the jewelry she'd had on her before the white hot flash.

The white hot flash that had happened right after she'd been told she was no longer a princess because Orando was no more.

Is this it, then? she wondered. Is this where former royals are exiled to?

Greetings viewers and welcome to the show! Will they win or will they die! You can only find out by staying tuned to this great episode OF, Your money or your life-... Wait aaaa minute.. This isn't that new host role! This is some kind of.. roleplaying site! Awww man, not again! Well, a Deadpool's gotta do what a Deadpool's gotta do...

HI readers, my name is Deadpool, and I'll be narrating for Myself today. Donations are not required, but if you don't I'll stab your toes. It hurts, I know. Right, so, where was I? Yes, that's right, narrating.

So, Myself slides out of a strange slimy pod, and wakes up lying on the ground in a nice cozy warm slime, you all know that part. His eyes wandered around the room, and a series of questions entered his mind.

"Where am I? Who brought me to this place? Why was I taken? And who wanted to see me naked..." He brought himself slowly to his feet, feeling like three thousand bucks, and taking in his surroundings. Stuffy, smelly, covered in slime... It was a lot like home! Once on his feet, the next task was clear; he had to dance in the buff like the good looking man he was. Kicking his legs and dancing like a pro, he was sure he heard a song in the back of his head.

"Don't you want me ba-by, Don't you want me, oooo-oooah." Wade sang along.

Words rang in his mind, interrupting his jamboree.

"Ooooh, another voice in my head- and this ones a LADY! It makes me feel all FUZZY inside!" Myself didn't know that fuzzy feeling was supposed to be love and maternal warmth from the voice that identified itself as Stacy. But maybe it was better off that way anyway.

No longer feeling the urge to dance, he gritted his teeth. Wade wasn't that interested in walking up a lit path with a bunch of others when he wasn't wearing his costume or mask... But maybe he'd get away with looking like a burn victim.

"Actually, that's a great idea! I'll be one of those burn victims from the explosion nobody saw but everyone knew was there!" Either that or a cancer victim with waaay too much radiation. Wade threw himself onto the ground. Rolling onto his side, and using only one arm, he dragged himself across the side of the pathway all the other folks were walking down. It was Wade's genuine belief that if anyone were to see him, they'd think he was a dead burn victim on the side of the road, and for some reason wouldn't notice that he was dragging himself along. For exta effort, The Merc with the Mouth hung his tounge out to appear more deceased.

Eventually, he reached the top room. He thought he might have seen a dinosuar walk by at some point, but with his eyes rolling back into his head, it was hard to see. Strange vines cleaned him off, taking away all the cozy slime. Too bad. Then they surrounded him. At first Deadpool wanted to chop them off with his katana, since they were clearly covering him and possibly attacking him. But, alas, he didn't have his katana. The plant-thingies stopped, hugging his body a little tighter then he liked. Must've been designed for those super-tight spandex wearing folks. Continuing on, he found a reaaaal big room.

"Now, normally, I wouldn't walk into the center of a huge room like this, since it's probably trapped with poisonous prickly vines and evil clones of the Power Puff Girls, but I suppose I can make an exception this time. Although... Can't remember why I'm making an exception..." Wade said to himself. He had to make sure Himself understood what he was doing. Then he was whisked. Whisking was fun. Then, he ended up finding his katanas and his beloved mask. Red and black is Our favorite colors. I missed how he got those because I kind of dozed off... But don't blame me, blame those lousy pods for not giving real sleep but some kind of chryo-sleep or something.

Masked and armed, he headed wherever the next place took him feeling much more comfortable.

Well, there was weird, and then there was this.

Edward had found himself deposited on the floor, just sort of.. dropped there in an unpleasant position. He slipped twice, trying to actually get on his own two feet. It was only then that the place itself really struck him; some gigantic, living nightmare. He stood in stunned, shocked silence, staring upwards, the scene not quite registering with him, so much as it engraved itself into his brain.

It wasn't until the ship actually spoke to him, or projected her thoughts, that he had snapped awake; very much in focus, yes, but also alarmed. Alarmed? That didn't describe it, actually. More like pure, utter distress.

That was probably about when he started screaming and it didn't like he was going to quit anytime soon; all those pesky questions that most people new to this scenario had. It didn't take long before something or someone had lost patience with a demanding naked crippled teenaged alchemist, and the needle had come so damned fast that he couldn't start to complain about it.

At least he'd somehow gotten an outfit while he was semi-conscious.

Today was certainly going to be interesting.

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Once you pop the fun don't stop

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