The city air felt so clean and fresh today!

Or rather, it seemed that way in comparison to the Sleeping Halls and those small, throbbing and sometimes when Jr. focused too hard on it, muggy-feeling rooms. The small red-head made his way through the city, few articles of spare clothes draped over one forearm, a set of guns balanced on top of them and held against his chest. He had his other, more commonly used set of firearms holstered at his sides as usual, but that sure was four guns on his person in that moment. With a pair of sunglasses on his head, Jr. looked ready for something exciting, something thrilling. And that something was moving. He'd been surprised at the sudden invite from Zouichi, but easily snatched up the offer - learning the inn he'd be staying in was an old styled Japanese inn was like the icing on the cake, though. Happy at the idea to flop down and fall asleep in something that actually felt like a room, he sped up his walk some, passing by the other buildings and structures as he moved.

[ feel free to be passing by in the city or assuming he's passing by any of the buildings! anyone's free to tag in ]

After Lirath, Miku had tried her best to keep from being too far underfoot. So, she'd retreated to the Meiji Shrine. Sitting on the steps, and turning her hairpin in her hands, an abandoned broom at her side, Miku tried to think of ways to be more useful. She even had prayed a bit, but it seemed as if the Emperor and Empress were concerned with more pressing things than how to make a single, pious young woman more worthy to return the help she was given.

She wasn't much of a fighter - as her poor attempts at practicing had quickly shown. She had always been someone's support. But even Steve was more helpful than she was, and he only spent time in Engineering when he wanted. Which is where Miku was fairly sure he was at now, though she hadn't actually bothered to check.

Miku sighed and flipped her long, dark hair from her shoulders with a hand. It was already getting too long and heavy for her tastes, and Stacy was warm and humid. Miku stood with a sigh and picked up her abandoned broom, tucking her hairpin away in her skirt pocket.

There was plenty to clean at the Shrine, after all.


((As a special note, if you get Miku, you will likely also get a Steve! That's two, two, two CRs for the price of one! (Shipping and Handling not included)))

Despite not requiring much in the way of food, Zouichi did know how to cook. But with friends and acquaintances from wildly different backgrounds, he figured he could stand to expand his repertoire. So today he was trying out desserts. The inside of one of the Sensoriums had been transformed into a brightly-lit kitchen, its counters covered with baking pans, bowls, fruit, flour, and a multitude of other ingredients.

Zouichi, wearing a dark blue apron, was just taking a batch of chilled dough out of the refrigerator, rolling it carefully out between waxed paper sheets. It was looking pretty good, or so he thought. Nothing had even exploded yet!

From somewhere within the kitchen, the smell of cake wafted up into the air. Caaake.

Lowe couldn't help but feel like a part of him died when he saw the mess inside the Hangar. It looked like a war zone tore through the area... which it did, what with a variety of Ohm parts still scattered across. A lot of the damage was easily fixable, thankfully. However, he had to write off a ZAKU that was cleaved in half along with a forklift that was destroyed the same way. There was also that one Variable Fighter that was destroyed in the space battle...

The Junk Guild tech couldn't help but let out a defeated sigh. He wanted to find the people who decided tossing ZAKUs and forklifts at bad guys was a good idea, especially those who could do what they did to the thrown items.

He did make mental notes of what could be salvaged from the unfixable items, though. Best not to let these things go to waste, eh?

Now, it was just a matter of getting it all fixed up.

It has been some time since she first entered the pod caverns. She's lost track of it-- it's hard to tell time in this ship to begin with, and so without any sort of measure here it's especially hard.

Homura can't make out the faces of anyone inside. Just a vague silhouette. She knows she's trying to do something nearly impossible. She could look through these pods her entire life and never find Madoka, but she still looks. She said it herself to the others, didn't she? Giving up is the same as dying. Homura judges from the particulars of these people's bodies, their wrists, their ankles. Their hair. She searches for a glimpse of pink in a sea of green and finds nothing; that's alright, she'll keep looking.

On and on her trek goes, up and down the spiralling walkways and stairs. Pausing at every single pod that holds a glimmer of hope, a human figure of a young girl. Illuminating the insides with the light of her soul gem, she can never get their faces to show. What she can see of their bodies usually shows something Madoka doesn't have. A faint scar, a distinct freckle or mole.

She's started from the bottom and is moving her way gradually up. It's easily been a day since she started looking. She's hungry and she's thirsty and she's tired, so tired. It's nearly too much. But she knows if she moves from this spot to get food or water or sleep she'll lose her place, and she'll have to start all over again. There's no food or water here, but she can at least get some rest.

Exhausted and frustrated, Homura transforms her soul gem back into its compact ring form and sits down. Leaning gently against a pod and feeling the swell of Stacy's breathing, she tries to get some sleep.

||Attention, Attention. The following crew members must report to the Observation Deck...||

Stacy began to name off sixteen members of the crew, repeating the message until everyone had arrived. When they did, they would find the following information being displayed.

Planet Designation: Unknown. No records of a system existing at this location can be found. All information is based on preliminary scans.
Status: Terrestrial, H-class.
Non-sentient life: Extensive flora and fauna.
Semi-Sentient Life: Unknown.
Sentient Life: Obsidian medial castles and crystal cities scattered all around, but no signs of humanoid life detected.
Water: 80.8% of the planet's surface.
Climate: Similar to Earth's Tropical zones [Click here for cultural equivalents for non-Earth cultures.]
Landscape: What little remains of area is deep thick tropical forest with forests and abandoned towns.
Air: Non-toxic. Elevated levels of oxygen.
Air Pressure: 101.3 kPa (kilopascals) = 14.7 psi (pounds per square inch)
Sky: Blue.
Sun: A class G V, yellow dwarf star.
Warnings: No records of this planet exist. Suggest taking extreme caution while planet-side, as dangers that have not shown up on preliminary scans could exist. Please bring appropriate tools and weapons.
Mission: Scout planet's surface and locate the twin signals.

Being sent off into the unknown was part of the risks that being on the ship had brought them. Thankfully they were getting a chance to stock up before heading out.

But just what was waiting out there?

[[Just so you all know, this is bendy time for around the 12th on the meatship, so those who were hurt during the battle should be much, much better. This is also the only post that will be open to both groups before they split off, and anyone who wishes to see them off can do so. In fact, it's encouraged!]]

After learning from Allenby herself that Zetta was outside on the ship, Lash hadn't wasted time going to the armory and getting Thorn Armor so she'd be able to survive outside, cursing the dumb people (Allenby) who threw team members like it was going out of style. What kind of plan was that? That sounded like something SHE should be doing! Just probably not with Zetta or people she cared--HAD FUN WITH.

It hadn't taken too long for her to converse with Stacy (arguing about her own safety and saying she'd be fine) about the ship's estimate as to the floating book's whereabouts. Thankfully close to the hanger, she was adjusting to using the armor as she continued to run there - still testing out its capacity, unused to it as often as her normal one due to how easily it reacted with her nervous system. No need to covering her head until she got to the hanger either - least someone pass by and not realize who it was. Her pace was slowed down by the wound on her side and the pain in her entire body. Still patched up, she hadn't returned to the ward yet, but the the suit that was quickly covering her body would soon make it hard to see that there seemed to be a bit of new blood seeping through...so she bit her lip and just continued. Black Hole Commanding Officers did not flinch in the face of stupid flesh wounds, after all.

The faster she got the big red demonic book out of space and into the spaceship, the better.

[OOC - The first part is open to those who want to stop her and/or encourage her. The 2nd part is those that want to join her, but it's limited to a few people (Allenby, Starfire, Hit Girl and Ruffnut if they want so far, PM me if you're interested) they'll also probably need Thorn Armor unless they can go into space normally]

Zouichi had taken a few wounds during the mission, but nothing that he would deem serious enough to require medical treatment. He'd already begun to heal, and he estimated that by the time tomorrow rolled around, he'd once again be at full strength. This was not, of course, true of everyone who had fought on that moon -- those who had lost their lives, for instance.

But for him, intense combat was the norm. There was no sense dwelling on loss of life or regretting the past, and there were no nightmares about the dead or dying. There was only the future, and the battles to be found there.

So it was back to business as usual: maintenance on the HDC, clearing stray leaves off the front steps and caring for the flowers... and teaching his pet parrot some commands. Today, however, Alan seemed more intent on rolling onto his back and demanding to be picked up. So Zouichi settled back in the shade of a nearby tree instead, playing with the bird and occasionally wondering where he'd picked up all these new phrases that sounded suspiciously like Lash.

Maybe if Howard showed up, they could look for odds and ends in the City.

After the battle, the warriors' task was over. Their job, for now, was to rest and recover for the time being.

The healers' job, on the other hand, was far from over. Some exhausted from the battle, others rotating in, they took to their bay and continued the process of treating the wounded. Some patients were free to leave in a few minutes, while others would have some time (or quite some time) on the cots. Their mission: relax. Stay as still as possible.

Unfortunately, the temptation of so many familiar faces alive and about would ultimately prove to be too great. Keeping track of this group was going to be a third task all its own.

[this is a free for all for all your injured! Have them socialize, be thorns in the medics' side, try to escape, or bring the medics together for some action. Just note in your post if you'd like a medic to visit your character---if not, it's time for a chat!]

 After dropping off some of the crew at Balisair, it was time for the crew to set course for Lirath. The situation greeting them wasn't the most promising.

The cracked surface of the moon called Lirath was one of its most unmistakeable features. One of the three moons of the planet Kehoe, it had been terraformed and served as a settlement for a hundreds of different species, some humanoid, some not. Despite occasional class struggles, environmental issues, and speciesism blocking their way, the darker parts of Lirath's past were largely left behind, and an era of peace and tolerance had reigned for quite some time. The only problems they'd had recently were with a terrorist group whose cause for their actions had been a mystery, but they weren't tied to any particular species or social group and had been likened to a cult and had largely gone quiet in recent years.

Now the peace on the moon of Lirath had been shattered by the invasion of the Ohm.

The capital city had been destroyed. Now, all that was left of the peoples of Lirath was evacuating from one of its smaller cities, one known as Smyteval. A desert city, existing in a valley in between a rocky range of canyons and mountains, even though it was in the low ground, the natural channels of rock served as bottlenecks for any Ohm attacking from the ground.

GIA squadrons patrolled in space, locked in explosive warfare, protecting the Bleed-gate that had been activated to see the evacuated ships to the refugee world, and a shield created by massively-powerful shield generators extended around the city and up into the atmosphere, creating a shielded tunnel so ships could escape.

Word had come that there was a vital weapon to be deployed on Lirath, one that needed to be destroyed, hence why the Transmigration 9 had been called in. Given the diverse crew, and the ships that were in its hangar, there was at least someone or something on board that could blow the weapon up if it did show.

There was no sign of it yet. Right now, there was just chaos, streams of evacuees boarding ships, armies of Ohm engaged with GIA soldiers outside the shields, and forcefields that everyone hoped would hold out just a little bit longer.

The crew would be following Leon's orders but finding themselves fighting side-by-side with GIA platoons, full of various species that were currently all getting their asses kicked severely.

[ooc: STAGE 1 is now open! Please do not tage STAGE 2 until it's announced as open as well.]

[ooc: STAGE 2 is now open!]

 After receiving the warning the Tapestry had provided them, along the order to begin preparations from Councillor Kang, the crew had been getting ready for upcoming combat with the Ohm.

Unfortunately, the rather vague nature of the warning they received meant they had no particular way of knowing exactly when this battle would occur. Understandably, this put some of the crew on edge, but at the very least they had some prior warning that they would be facing the Ohm, rather than being thrown blind into such a dangerous situation. Combat drills, vehicle maintenance and armory inspections seemed to be regular sights for the week or so following Kang's message. Not much time to prepare, but the crew worked with what was given to them.

Eventually, however, the call came.

||Alert, Alert,|| Stacy called out throughout the ship, ||Priority One message from GIA High Command. All crew members please report to the Obs Deck. Repeat, Priority One message from GIA High Command, All crew members please report to the Obs Deck...||

Stacy kept repeating the message over and over until the crew began making their way towards the Obs Deck to receive the message.

[ooc: As implied by the post, we're assuming the crew's ICly had a one-to-two week heads-up about the battle. It was supposed to be played out, but RL timing prevented this from working out. Feel free to come up with the details of your character's preparations on your own

Also, as usual, please wait for subthreads to go up before tagging in.

Edit: It's up! Feel free to start tagging in!]

Taking some time from other projects, Celena had once more brought down her Paired Gate device down to the park in an attempt to work on a number of issues of the operation of the device while in the Bleed. After all if a stable gate could be established, even for short periods of time, it could make for quick travel about the city and about the ship in general.

Thus in her usual draconic form she had set herself before the primary end of the gate device in the middle of a large clearing in the park, with the secondary portion of the device not a hundred feet away. After some time in pondering the problem she had decided to take a break from her work. Locking the device down she stretched herself out and padded away to wander the park for a short while before taking off to stretch her wings. Keeping her general flight path around the vicinity of the park itself.

[OOC: Feel free to run into her at any point, whether while she's working on the device, wandering the park or even flying around overhead!]

Lash couldn't complain about her life on the ship. In fact, if asked, she might have regarded it as 'pretty good'. In the time she had been there, she had become a Power Ranger (in the brightest of yellow colors), become friends with a rather colorful cast (not that she'd admit it out loud) and even really, really liked a guy (not that she'd admit that out loud either).

During the attack on Galilee, Lash and Zetta had used the distraction to go around and steal--er prolong borrowed some of the items in the nearby shopping mall. It was only fair, considering what they had been put through! Not that neither really cared about morals anyway.

After taking their share, they found themselves with a rather large amount of items and strange knicknacks that might interest the rest of of the ship's fine citizens. Maybe not enough clothing to dress everyone up or to give them a pair of fitting shoes, but she was sure someone could appreciate a new shirt or two, or use them for rags or other creative uses they could find. Therefore their next part of the plan came into motion; if they built it, the others would come.

One of the city's many abandon buildings had been getting fixed and patched up the last few days since their arrival, an old store getting a second lease on life. Only, you know, this one involved demons and afro girls and stolen merchandise. But it was okay! This wasn't going to be a purchasing store, but a bartering one. In between their talks, meets and crashing a prom in the best of ways, they'd managed to get a very crude and badly painted "THE AWESOMEMPORIUM" in dripping red paint over the building front. One of the windows also had the rules, also painted with the same brushstrokes;

1) Find stuff you like
2) Exchange it to us for stuff and service you have
3) We have the right to refuse any deals
4) No Zedds allowed

Truthfully, both Wunderkind and Overlord had very little use of extra materials they might get in return, being people of simple needs. However, just giving items away would label them as being too nice. Turning stolen goods into a store and hiding behind a bartering system? Now that was much more devious. Besides, maybe they'd end up with some pretty cool items and tools in exchange, or having half of the ship owe them favors. Both were prospects interesting enough to follow.

Inside, the store was brightly lit thanks to Lash's repairing skills and Zetta's Merchant Minions (which Lash fondly liked to call Sonja Jr's) walked around the shop, tending to to the shelves and making sure everything looked presentable. Everything was in sections, with the same red paint just put on the shelves (lacking proper materials for labeling) so people would know what they were exchanging for.

Most of the time, Dog, Lash's alien green caterpillar dog was in the store, being lazy behind the counter. Dog was looking abnormally fat lately, barely moving around. The counter sometimes had Lash standing there working on fixing an item, a book lazying around, sometimes the both of them, or sometimes just a merchant minion standing there when neither of them where available. Rest assured, they'd find out what you traded when they were gone.

And just to make sure it could easily be found, one of Galilee's fabulous floating fountains now stood in front, hovering for no real reason that it was built that way. Sometimes you could find Lash was riding in it on a good day or early in the morning.

[[OOC info - this is the list of things that Lash and Zetta have available (one item is slightly unsafe for work). The list will be constantly updated depending on what your characters want and what they exchange for it. Sometimes the bartered stuff might end up on the list if neither of them have use for it.]]

Howard has avoided The Warehouse entirely for the last few days. Something about wandering around in it alone seems like a profoundly unsettling prospect. Even when he returns to it, he decides it's a better idea to work out in the front yard than actually lounge around the living room.

Today's project is a roller fridge. Having found three sets of identical rollerblades (for someone with six legs? Or just three right feet?), Howard's set to dismantling them and fixing them to a mini-refrigerator he found in an unclaimed house down the tracks. He eventually plans on recalibrating the fridge into a freezer and attaching a handle to drag it to and from Hydroponics, but actually putting wheels on it seems to be the most difficult task so far.

After several failed attempts to use a candle-lighter to weld some sort of axle on, Howard gets a drill and an extension cord out. The sound of the drill upsets the cat, whom he's zipped into an old backpack, bar her head. He doesn't want her to run off onto the tracks, after all, or leave her alone in the house, and despite all the random junk he's accumulated, he hasn't yet found a small leash or collar.

She growls at him and struggles to free herself, but he routinely calms her down with cat treats and a sock full of catnip when the noise scares her too much. To keep her attention, he slips one of the cat treats up his sleeve and out of sight. That's just sleight of hand.

The fridge, on the other hand, may require more creativity. He sits with the backpack full of cat on his lap, chewing on a hangnail, trying to figure out how exactly he's going to give it wheels that can swivel.

The day had finally arrived for her big event, and Starfire couldn't be happier---or more nervous, actually. She was certainly not an expert on the inner workings of a prom, but it couldn't be too terribly complicated, right? As long as the people could eat, dance, and talk, it should be a reasonable success.

With that in mind, her decorations sprung from her mind into the large dome all around her, transforming a grey Sensorium into a beautiful underwater world, one with clear waters and free from the possibility of a shark attack.
( Diving into a underwater wonderland... )

The City didn't have weather as most people knew it, but it was nonetheless a beautiful day - warm weather with a nice breeze, Stacy's sun-equivalent shining in the sky... almost as if it was reflecting the emotions of at least one of the ship's crew. In the middle of the Park, someone had set up a little white lattice archway amongst the hedgerows, decorated with ivy and roses and lilies that looked remarkably real (if they were, in fact, synthetic). In front of the arch were several rows of white chairs, more than enough for anyone who cared to show up.

It was a beautiful day for a wedding.

And frankly, Nanoha needed it. After the chaos and confusion; the rage and terror on Galilee... she didn't think she could ever forget that horrible sense of loss and emptiness when she'd thought that Fate was gone, if only for a day or so. But this would go a long way toward exorcising those demons - a day that she'd dreamed of for years.

Of course, she couldn't go greet anyone yet. She was in her wedding dress, after all! These things needed to be proper.

(ooc: Tag the respective subthreads, please! Mingling is highly encouraged.)

Its time to unwind, relax and receive news of home. A pod pop occurred while some were on a mission and it's time to meet up with new friends, drink well with old, and relax.The Drunken Dragon has opened its doors and stands ready and willing to assist in forgetting the trials those on the mission experienced.




OOC: If you want a specific barmaid, just put their name in the subject. Otherwise, enjoy, intermingle and do as you like.

The first thing he'd insisted on them fixing was the clone brand, but the surgery to fix his arm had come first, to allow all the tissue to heal right. His tendency towards fast healing was taking care of the rest. Then they got rid of the stupid clone brand after.

His hand was gone.

It was still a thought he had to get used to. One second it'd been there and now it was gone. It hadn't even been all the dramatic, like things like that were in the movies. It wasn't some moment over a gaping pit, with a villain chopping off his hand and revealing he was his father. He didn't have to saw it off to escape from some deadly trap, horror movie style.

There'd been a fight, he'd fallen on the teleporter pad, there'd been a bright light in front of his face and that was it. Apparently, it could happen just that easily.

Then again, it wasn't the first time he'd lost a hand--that same hand, in fact--but after healing for a thousand years under the North Pole, all the damage from the fight that had killed him had disappeared, and the thing had apparently regrown. So losing limbs wasn't exactly something he never expected would happen, when it already happened once. This time, he was fairly sure it wasn't going to grow back, though.

Ultimately, he decided that was okay. He was a little freaked out about it, but he'd cope. You rolled with the punches, right?

Sometimes you have to roll with the accidental amputations, too.

It was war. This stuff happened, it was going to keep happening, and at least it hadn't been his head.

It was war, and people got hurt in wars, just like you made decisions you weren't sure were the right ones. Just like his decision to let Moses free all the clones was one that was weighing on his mind. (He was just WAITING to hear from Leon on that one).

Superboy sat upright on his bed in Medbay, arm bandaged and in a sling, and played Tetris on his omnicom one-handed. Hopefully, they'd let him out of Medbay soon, and then...then he'd figure out the rest.

The young woman who had looked after Zouichi and his siblings had taken it upon herself to instruct them in quite a few areas that were not strictly part of their curriculum -- areas regarded by many of the personnel at Toha Heavy Industries as impractical, even pointless.

Better that they should be taught one more way to kill an opponent without a sound, or log additional hours in test simulations.

( Read more... )

He shed his customary gloves, placing them on the surface of the polished black wood. Then he closed his eyes, placed his hands over the cool ivory keys, and began to play. Satie's Gymnopédie No. 1, a slow-paced, melancholy piece. He didn't know why, but playing it always made him remember the ocean. Or at least the simulated version of it; he'd never seen the real thing. The quiet ebb and flow of the tide, the breaking of each wave into sea foam upon the shore. The sea at early evening, perhaps, when all its visitors had gone home and the sun cast everything in long shadow.

Then, on a whim, he focused on summoning up an orchestral accompaniment: a crowd of black-clad musicians in which he might more easily blend in. Or maybe hide, if such a thing were possible on an open stage with a stern-faced conductor watching over all of them. For a moment, the musicians were still. Then, together, they began the first movement of Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 2 In C Minor, Op. 18. It was easy, once they began playing, to simply lose himself in the swells of sound. The dreamlike ebb and flow of the violins, the rich, deep murmur of the cellos, the brassy reports of the trumpets, the clear, concise flurry of the flutes. Fascinating, the way the sounds of so many different individuals could come together to create a coherent narrative.

It was too bad he'd never get a chance to play with the real thing.

The plan was...well, it wasn't simple, but it sort of was.

While the CLF attacked multiple Clone Processing centers to distract the government, the group with the CLF would target one particular one in the region that'd once been New Jersey. The group with the government would offer their services in putting down their own people.

In the center, they'd split up into several groups. One would fight a fake fight, create a massive diversion, and blow up the room where the samples their DNA were being kept in the process. Another group would secure a teleporter pad. That team would teleport out other teams to steal a ship, steal some med tech to teleport to said ship, and steal a medical database. Another team would go to the main command center and hack into the government mainframe to down the sensornet around the planet so they could escape. And Nightwing himself would accompany the clones to upload the harvested memories to the Mother Brains, left unguarded because of the diversionary fighting, and make sure that was all they did.

Meanwhile, there'd be a standing order for all teams to avoid killing other crewmates, and avoid killing guards unless absolutely necessary.

It was a complicated plan. If a single part fouled up, they might find themselves dead, trapped, or worse. But if it worked, it'd work pretty spectacularly and leave them with medtech, a medical database, the clones helped, and possibly a grateful Council depending on how the fight went, because of the ones seemingly aiding the government.

In some worlds, things that were a million-to-one-chance (exactly a million-to-one) by their nature had to work. Let's hope this world is one of them, eh, mission crew?

[ooc: Only comment to threads if it says they are open here. All threads: OPEN. Characters may get injuries up to and including 7 on the Injury Scale (scroll to the bottom). Any higher, and they must ask permission of the plot-runners, just to make sure everyone isn't immobilized without enough people to help move them.]