The rest of the crew assembled on the Observation Deck to meet the latest editions to their numbers. After the revelation that their worlds are gone, many of them are even more eager to see people they knew from home.

Several people are set up near the doors to provide the new people with omnicoms and comm rings. New crew-mates might see a green-skinned alien and snake girl among their number. There are also several authoritative-looking figures ready to introduce themselves.

There's a lot to tell the new people. It's going to be a lot to take in.

[ooc: Only new characters and Command Staff can start new threads for introductions, to limit the number of threads. Everyone else, just tag in and have your guys greet the newbies.]

Indigo stands in the hallways, hands clasped behind her back. She doesn't pace, she doesn't weave or bob around. It's like she's a statue, waiting for someone to pass before her disdainful look. She's outside the Spacewalk's doors.

She doesn't expect that many people. Perhaps three Science personnel. Two or three from Security. Not much trouble. A small part of her wishes that more people were here to observe the opening of both the Spacewalk and Hydroponics, but the more logical part crushes that. If the creatures are dangerous, it would be wiser not to have any other crewmembers around.

So, she waits.

One of the cold facts of life is that it was temporary. Medical science was an amazing thing. Where once the smallest scratch or sprain would fester and become fatally infected, now even failing organs could be replaced. Everything was artificial, fake, and what kept people alive was no longer a flow of goodwill and the trickle-down hand of god, but the flow of money.

Of course, Motoko had known that her entire life, as far as she could remember. It had been explained to her in detail, when she'd been still a child, still learning to walk again in her new body. We've put a great deal of money and time into you, miss. You had better not fall and ruin everyone's hard work. When that had failed under her growing frustration, they had bribed her.

It was easy to contemplate the happy unhappiness of the past when you were reduced to picking the droplets out of your joints by hand.

Motoko was standing, leaning on a fleshy wall because none of the furniture she might have dragged over from engineering would have held her weight. Every seam and panel in her right arm was popped open— the joint had come up warm. It needed lubrication and Stacy's humid interior was playing havoc with her success rate. Back home, she'd have shrugged and paid a small fortune for a replacement, but here she had no such luxury. Her buffer of safety was gone. So, she awkwardly held her own arm to the light, fragmented from wrist to elbow in pieces like the ruffled feathers of a bird and examined the coverage. Good enough.

Several buildings in the City had been completely destroyed during Aang's rampage, but a few had survived relatively unscathed. It had only taken Kang two days to repair the Drunken Dragon; he'd done so by himself, not even waiting for his leg to heal up a bit first.

Usually, he didn't bother lighting any candles or using the fireplace in the tavern unless it was a period when the artificial sun had set. He could see perfectly fine in the dim light. For the celebration, though, he'd thrown the windows open wide, scrounged up every candle he could find, and started up a fire, knowing that human vision wasn't as good as his own. The tables surrounding the stage had been cleaned, as well as the tankards, and the door was propped open. The bozak had even wrestled two of the 60-gallon barrels from the back room into a corner of the main room for easier access, one of cactus juice and one of ale. If more was needed, he was sure he could get someone to help bring out another.

Tess had commandeered the kitchen to make her food, bringing in her own equipment. Kang had been slightly afraid at first that she was going to burn the place down, but nothing had happened yet. She seemed to know what she was doing, even if she'd given him a few scares.

The sunlight glistened on the old sword blade teeth and dinnerplate eyes of the comical-looking wooden dragon grinning above the entrance. Come in, relax, have a drink and a bite to eat!

[OOC note: Both drinks are alcoholic, and the cactus juice has twice the kick of the ale. :D;]

Nightmare becomes reality....

_{[roster: Leader - Batman, Brainiac 5, Duncan Idaho, Invisible Kid, Brenda Del Vecchio, Hellion]}

The entire business of destroyed universes and great destinies was something Tali had chosen not to dwell on. By all appearances, the only real proof of the entire claim was that the creators of this ‘Stacy’ AI had said so, meaning there wasn’t enough data to go off of to even fully understand the hypothesis, let alone confirm it as fact.  Therefore, for the time being, Garrus and she were simply on a new ship in unknown space, doing what they had always done since joining the Normandy: survive whatever threats may come until Shepard gave more specific orders. There was the small complication of Shepard not yet being released from stasis to issue such orders, but she would be released eventually, of that alone Tali was sure. Until then, their mission would have to be to prepare for her arrival by gathering all the information and allies they could for the Commander. It was a plan that hinged on a very key variable, but at the moment the idea that Shepard may be lost to them was not allowed entrance to Tali’s thoughts. It simply could not be.

 

So information gathering it was. Of course, when Tali was given the choice of locations to investigate, her mind immediately went to the heart of the ship. Engineering. Despite the grimness of the situation, she was practically quivering with pent up excitement at being able to explore the inner workings of an engine capable of traveling not only distances but, by all appearances, through time and dimensions as well. How was such a thing even possible? What could fuel it? All the technology she could learn of, assess, rebuild. She almost felt guilty at the sheer amount of gleeful anticipation running through her veins. It was all for the mission, of course. That thought at least lent her some justification for her widened eyes as she entered the engineering deck and began looking around.

 

“Hello?”

The rest of the crew assembled on the Observation Deck to meet the latest editions to their numbers. After the revelation that their worlds are gone, many of them are even more eager to see people they knew from home.

Several people are set up near the doors to provide the new people with omnicoms and comm rings. New crew-mates might see a green-skinned alien and snake girl among their number. There are also several authoritative-looking figures ready to introduce themselves.

There's a lot to tell the new people. It's going to be a lot to take in.

[ooc: Only new characters and Command Staff can start new threads for introductions, to limit the number of threads. Everyone else, just tag in and have your guys greet the newbies.]

It is that time again, meatship.

Once again, the King of Nightmares has deigned to spread his touch to all of your dreams.

This time, however, he has decided to give them a much more personal touch, sending his very own children to visit each and every one of you, slowly sowing the seeds of madness within all of you.

Such a kind and loving king he is, isn't he?

[ooc: Alright folks, Nightmare King is ramping things up a bit. These nightmares are a good bit more dangerous now, and he's sending in his minions to make things a little more real. The nightmares will be of a much more serious nature this time, designed to start driving the crew slowly insane. Characters are more likely to run into nightmare minions in the guise of someone or something that will tug at the edges of their sanity. Also, this time, the characters can have joint dreams, as these nightmares are of a more mystical nature this time. Once again, tagging in isn't mandatory, but if you want to, go crazy (literally)!]

[Additional Note: Any injuries won't be carrying over to real life at this point in the plot but don't worry, we'll get there eventually!]

Being from (Ar)Rakis, Sheeana's first thoughts on the dark dreams that had been afflicting her fellow crewmates had more to do with hurricanes and sandstorms than clouds. The metaphor was the same though.

That was her thought as she sat in the lotus position in front of Arha's door (she would not leave her if she had another such dream, but would not tempt herself into sleep by joining her either). Sandstorms. She missed them so, the beating, suffocating, gritty howl of them. Real weather, to rasp at the skin, to shape both person and landscape. Sand or rock crunching underfoot, screaming winds, danger that could be understood and grasped by human hands. I am a desert creature. I need the environment I was born for.

She longed for them as for the touch of a lover.

Damian is in the sensoriums, surrounded by ninjas.

The setting is at first a city rooftop, but with a thought, he makes it a desert.

He hesitates again, then gets Stacy to make the ninjas more alien. He's fairly sure they won't be fighting humans when the final battle comes, after all. Plus, he doesn't plan to hold back at all, and that's more likely to be excusable if his enemy is not human.

"Do not hold back," he tells Stacy, then draws his sword and dashes forward, lopping the head off the closest alien ninja before it has a chance to attack.

Of course, none of the other ninjas are as slow. They've all drawn weapons and are rounding on Damian. Some are flying or slithering.

Damian grins sharply. This will be fun.

When he first saw it weeks ago, shortly after the crew had finally caught up him, he thought for certain that he was hallucinating. But there it was, nestled among several other castles. The Luthor Mansion, in all it's glory.

Lex was never a superstitious man, but even he believed that there was more to heaven and earth than what could be proven on paper. The appearance of his home, a reward no other crew member had received (to his knowledge), certainly made him think. He wondered if this was some sort of sign that his decisions so far had indeed been right, or that he was on the right path. Perhaps it was put there as a distraction of sorts, as well, as there were many unpleasant memories that haunted those walls. For the time being, he decided to take it as a reward, however relocating there initially proved to be problematic.

The Mansion wasn't in disarray, but it was clear that no one had walked its halls in quite some time. Not only that, but the last people who had clearly had little regard for the property. There was a layer of dirt and dust everywhere, expensive and priceless paintings had been torn off the walls and trashed, priceless artifacts were just broken pieces of clay or stone, pieces of antique furniture had been smashed, and every vault was empty. Not a single green meteor rock to be found. He counted himself lucky that his pool table, piano, and a handful of family photos managed to survive.

Rather than be dejected, Lex looked at it as project to occupy his time. Since he only worked in Neuropathy whenever he felt like it, and manned the bar in the lounge at his discretion, he did have plenty of time to devote to this project. Which was good, because cleaning up and fixing up a 40 room mansion-- replete with its own library (with real books), well supplied medieval armory and modern armory, pool, wine cellar, gym, and grand ballroom-- took a lot of work.

Work which still hadn't been completed, but he had progressed far enough to not only make it livable, but also presentable. The master bedroom, Lex's office, and most of the common areas had been cleaned up. All the rest was blocked off for the moment, but were in locations that were fairly out of the way.

So, he put out a message on the omnicomms, and invited a few people to check the place out. The ones who weren't already spying on him, at any rate. He laid out a few drinks, and a sampling of some of the fresh fruit and food he picked up while during their last mission to earth. He didn't expect many guests, after all, he had never been the most well liked person, even back when he was a relatively kindhearted kid. Most parties he hosted as an adult, he was usually surrounded by obsequious employees desperate to move up the food chain, business partners who wanted a more favorable deal, business rivals who were trying to find out something about the competition, charity representatives who wanted money, and sycophants who wanted the notoriety of being in the same room as Lex Luthor and access to the connections that alone can bring. Friends were simply a foreign concept, if he ever truly had any to begin with, and he certainly hadn't gone out of his way to make any on the ship. He was curious as to what category his guests, if he had any, would fit in.

((ooc: This is something of a party style post, so feel free to talk to Lex, Lois, or talk to each other while your character looks around.))

Anyone passing by the hangar at this particular moment will hear the sound of some serious mechanical maintenance; the crackle of welding gear and the hiss of hydraulics. It's a rare indulgence for the current occupant, as intermingled with the bang and clatter of the work permeates a lilting yet bombastic tune that flares from the radio of the craft that he is currently working on.

It was one of Thomas Wayne's favourites and at this time of year, the time of his death, it was all the harder for that little boy that still hid somewhere in the caverns of Bruce Wayne's mind to ignore. All the same, he takes great pleasure from hearing it, not that an observer would be able to tell from the usual clenched jaw and eyes hidden impassively behind opaque work goggles.

That's right, even the Bat-goggles come in black. As does the craft on which he toils; an angular, wide-winged jet fighter. Or at least, it used to be, before he began cannibalising the harebrained concoction of alien technologies that had in the past been used in the designs for the Justice League Satellite and its squadron of shuttlecraft, in order to make his personal plane spaceworthy.

Anyone who wants to talk may, but they'd do well to address the Batman from a fair distance. A blowtorch and years of self-induced psychological conditioning can be a pretty lethal combination.

( To hell with Batman! )


((ooc: One thread would be nice so that Dustin doesn't have to explain and/or experience the same things more than once.))

There is a resounding mental alarum that sounds through the ship. Nearly "deafening." Lights flash from places for extra emphasis, making it impossible to ignore.

||Attention, Attention. All personnel please report to the Observation Deck. Attention, Attention. All personnel please report to the Observation Deck. Attention, Attention, all personnel...||

It's entirely likely that she won't stop repeating the announcement until, well, everyone reports to Obs Deck. Outside the windows, a very Earth-like planet is visible, hanging in space. The mouth in the huge statue opens, revealing a screen. On it, the dossier for the mission flickers into display, understandable to every person there. Smaller copies of the dossier appear in holographic form in front of everyone.

The planet's stats, right next to a rotating holographic picture of it, marbled blue and green, are as follows:

Planet Designation: Earth-78734XM45
Status: Terrestrial, H-class.
Non-sentient life: Extensive flora and fauna.
Semi-Sentient Life: Yes.
Sentient Life: Homo Sapiens. [Various translations of "human" appear here so everyone understands it]
Water: 69.5% of the planet's surface.

Climate: Earth-like, in the throes of a mild nuclear winter [Click here for cultural equivalents for non-Earth cultures.]
Landscape: Varied.
Air: Normoxic concentration. Slightly elevated levels of carbon dioxide.

Air Pressure: 101.3 kPa (kilopascals) = 14.7 psi (pounds per square inch)
Sky: Blue. Often overcast.
Sun: A class G2V, yellow star.

Warnings: Wildlife and plant-life can be hazardous. Humans can be hazardous. A human cultural and legal database is available. [click here]

Mission: Revive the spiritual entity at the North Pole.

--

Following that, there are various maps and things visible. The version of Earth this world is may be very recognizable to some, but vast cities dot its surface.

||Attention, podmates. Attention.||

Apparently Stacy wants their attention.

||It is critical that you pay attention at this time.||

A few people will be able to avoid the call by being in the right place at the right time, but most will be gathered up on Obs Deck.

[ooc: Organization Post | You can post into the gathering thread. I'll add more subthreads with explanations of aspects of the mission as we go. Note: If you don't have time to post to this mission briefing but still want to have your character in the plot, that's fine. You can just pretend they were there the whole time. If you DON'T want your characters to be in this plot altogether, however, don't have them in the briefing--Stacy could have missed snagging them.]

Leon had called for a full staff meeting for the Security team, though it was also open to whoever else wanted to attend. He had gone easy on his group since the Bridge mission, mostly giving them time to rest, recover, and deal with the things they've all been told. But now it was time to start moving forward again.

The meeting was being held in the Precinct, in one of the larger conference rooms. He gave time for people to file in and sit down where they would. Once everyone was settled, he addressed the group.

"First of all, thank you all for coming. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Special Agent Leon S. Kennedy, from the United States Strategic Command, and current Chief of Security here about Transmigration 9.

"A couple of weeks ago, we all learned some startling information. That our worlds were gone, destroyed by the Ohm, and we're all that remains. That we've been chosen to travel across the multiverse to fight the Ohm, save what remains, and possibly restore what was lost.

"All of that may or may not be true, and we have people working to verify that one way or another. The only thing we know for sure is that, unfortunately, we're all stuck here for a while.

"Because of that, there'll be a few changes around here, most of which you'll hear straight from the Captain and the Commanding Officers in the coming days. As for this department in specific...

"Security was formed with the intent to be the first line of defense for this crew; to protect them from any threats on this ship, and sometimes to protect them from each other. That hasn't changed, and never will. How we operate is going to change, however.

"For the most part, we've taken a defensive posture, waiting for something to go wrong before we deal with it. But a Fix on Fail strategy isn't going to work anymore. Now, before you get started, no, we are not going to start hunting down and locking up crew members who may be a problem someday maybe." He wanted to be clear on that point, particularly with a crew as prone to kneejerk reactions as this one. "But, acid spitting roaches, one of which was crossbred with an Ohm; a variety of class 4 viral and biological weapons, all gathered in a failed experiment to create a biological weapon to annihilate the Ohm; the Nightmare King trapped in Escherville; HAL 9000; the Yeerks... these are all threats that originated on board. Things that were left behind when the previous crew abandoned ship.

"We need to find out what else they left behind; what other experiments they had going that have been left unattended for God knows how long. To that end, we need to root through every section of this ship, search it from stem to stern to locate and deal with these problems. We'll also be working with Engineering and Neuropathy to locate threats and malicious programs in the computer systems.

"In addition, we're also going to be expanding our duties to become a full blown Emergency Services Unit. We have to be able to deal with everything from heated arguments and hazmat spills to heart attacks and hull breaches. Some people here would be better suited for certain tasks than others, but everyone will crosstrained in a number of disciplines. I don't want to be caught short handed because we only had a few people trained to handle, say, hazmat spills, happened to be on an away mission, or were busy running through a maze, looking for cake.

"As for dealing with the crew themselves, Stacy has generally handled that, but we do have a bit more leeway now. We can interfere physically in conflicts between crew members without worrying about violations, provided you're not using excessive force. If you feel the behavior of a crew member has warranted something more than just a violation, you can haul them down to the brig where they can sit and cool off for a day or two, and any other additional penalties will be handed down by senior command, if necessary." Because that whole trial thing worked out ever so well last time.

"We have a lot of work to do, people. None of us want to be stuck here, but so long as we are, we need to make sure everyone stays as safe as possible."

((OOC: Beneath the two subthreads, people are free to talk to each other and free thread however they wish.))

Thaddos was doing nothing more than milling around. He could hear the Machine Spirits wailing in his head, and he hated it. So, that was the reason he was doing nothing at all. He couldn't find the machines.

What a Tech Priest he turned out to be!

His mechadendrites twitched anxiously, the only outward signs of his distress. His vox unit spit out rapid sentences of Machine Cant, which might mean everything from 'where are you, honourable Machine Spirits?' or 'Skak this.'

The brothers were being methodical in their mourning; the loss of their world had a profound affect upon them the first moment they had heard it, but it had been absorbed. They were here to do the work of God. If God wanted to end their world, it was not their place to argue.

The loss of Ma and Da had been harder. Da, at least, might be in the pods. Ma, who knew? But even that had been taken in, accepted. The boys were quiet, but they weren't quite mourning.

They had taken up their usual places in the battle-worn Holy See, heads bowed and praying silently. They got up together, walked out together in unison, step for step.

The brothers had lost their world. They had strengthened their resolve. Now, they had nothing to lose.

The rest of the crew assembled on the Observation Deck to meet the latest editions to their number. After the recent revelation, many of them were even more eager to see people they knew from home.

Brainiac 5 and Sensor were set up near the doors to provide the new people with omnicoms and comm rings.

There's a lot to tell the new people. It's going to be a lot to take in.

Of all the sights he'd seen on the ship, this had to be the best. He'd found it. Neuropathy: Stacy's IT support centre. It was huge, big enough to stow the hub of Stacy's neural within, and looked not entirely dissimilar to an indoor oil pipeline with cable cars running up and down its breadth.

Bruce walks over to one of the bay's many consoles, and one of the first pieces of synthetic equipment he'd seen yet on the ship. A mass of readouts blip happily to themselves, unaware that their audience had long since been removed violently from their posts. He pores over them for some time. If only they'd had access to this place earlier, they might have determined which areas of Stacy's programming were corrupted before they'd even have to run the gauntlet to the bridge. At a glance he fails to see any further issues with the readouts, but he'd make time to certify that.

Once he's done fiddling with his new toys, Bruce turns his gaze upwards to the huge, tubular infrastructure that makes up Stacy's neural network. In essence, this is where everything ticks from. And it's beautiful.

He hesitates before stepping into the car, making himself promise not to touch anything until he's absolutely sure it won't break everything.

What? Blame his Bat-curiosity.

It's one of the facts of life-grass is green, the sky is blue, and your average mainframe is inherently pretty boring. Which would be why Tex's hologram has popped up to keep an eye on the obs deck. It's a major hub, after all, and she's found it's the best spot to aggravate people people-watch from.

Until she actually finds somebody interesting enough to watch, though, she's just going to stand there, her posture screaming grumpiness.