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.

Daimon had chosen the location ahead of time. The Church of the Holy Sepulchre was sacred, perhaps more so than the Vatican. It was the place where Jesus Christ was crucified and buried. It had also not been descrated.

Many months had passed since Daimon spoke before a group of people. His palms sweat and he wiped his brow. Silently, he asked God for the strength to not simply speak but to speak on behalf of the Lord.

When the time came, he walked up before the assembled, Bible in hand. While he was nervous, perhaps on the verge of a panic attack, his words were strong and passionate and grew surer the more he spoke.

( Meatship, I give you your first sermon )

[OOC: Closed to Sam Winchester, Connor MacManus, Murphy MacManus, Paco Guzman, Kate Bishop, Xander Harris, Tim Drake, and Tony Stark.]

Following his chat with Master Chief and his talk with Dean, Sam sent a personal, secure message through his omnicomm out to the other seven people who had been infested by the Yeerks the longest. It'd taken some doing--and some yelling--but he'd managed to get the Chief to back him (and them) up for the time being. Now, all he had to do was get as many of them on board as possible which, he hoped, wouldn't be all that difficult.

As the appointed time--or as close as they could get to it considering time seemed to be rather difficult to grasp on the ship--Sam made his way to the city to the place that he'd selected for them to meet. It was a place that was bound to stir up bad feelings, things that many of them may not want to face. It was the place where it all began: the Clock House. Or, outside of it, rather, since the actual house itself had been sealed up per Cybil's orders.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sam walked over to the wall and, folding his arms over his chest, leaned up against it. It was as if he were defying anything that might be left alive inside to come out and try something. It was a small gesture, a tiny act of defiance that, despite its implied bravery, still caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. But even though it seemed overwhelming at times, he stifled the urge to flee, burying it deep down in his stomach and remained where he was while he waited for the others to arrive.

Earlier, somewhere in the Vatican's outbuildings:
Carefully, Murphy poured a little of the precious liquid into a dish, then placed the bottle far, far away. He nodded to his brother who then, with great ceremony (and from a safe distance) lit a match and tossed it in.

The flame burnt fast, bright, and blue.

The twins grinned.

******

The next flame burnt a decidedly different color, and distinctly higher. The boys jumped back, laughed, and Murphy pointed at his twin.

"You're trying it first!"



( Now, nearly everywhere... )

[ooc note]

Connor and Murphy snuck and tiptoed and giggled like frat boys on a panty raid all the way to the lab area of the ship. They had already visited the lockers, and were building a hoard in some private part of the ship, supplemented by the equipment they carried out now, separately and together, grinning widely.

Luckily, it seemed no one was around to catch them; busy on the mission, or at the meet and greet, the halls were empty enough for them to conduct whatever mischeif they were up to. Pipes, containers, adhesives, all were removed and carried away.

What were they doing? Well, no one knows but them. Yet.

Muahahahaha.

Sawyer is back in the Vatican, back to work making the renovations and alterations that he had unilaterally decided were necessary for turning the thing into an even stronger fortress than it already was. Many of the pews had been busted up and the planks set aside to be placed over the stained glass windows as reinforcement. The gold, silver, lead, iron, steel and bronze from the basilica and all the museums had been confiscated and sorted into piles to be melted down into other, more useful items.

In fact, some of the melting down and re-forming had already been done. Which was how Sawyer was able to begin work on his next project: nailing together the remaining pews to form make-shift beds, using a war hammer from one of the museums to drive the nails that he'd fashioned from melted steel.

Little does he know--or care--that there are actually Catholics on board.

Sparhawk is not normally one for brooding. His only real fit of brooding occured after his wife was kidnapped, and even then it mostly consisted of Sparhawk thinking of ways to track down those responsible, and what he would do with them when he caught up to them.

He dislikes feeling helpless. At least when he first arrived here, there were people to meet, and he had to get his bearings. And then the brain slugs came, and the Taxxoms, and there was no time to think in the heat of battle.

But now, afterwards, the reality of where he is, is sinking in. He has found good companions on board this ship, but it is still an alien place. And so far, there is no way of getting home. To be sure, Sparhawk, more than most, understands about being chosen for a purpose, and not being consulted. He had not asked to be Anakha, but that was the way that things worked out. That was the reason that he volunteered to try and find a way off this ship. Others should have the choice whether or not to be Chosen. But he would stay.

He's not voiced this thought to the rest of the crew as yet, there was no need. No doubt most would think him mad to want to stay, but he is a Knight. Being mad is what they're good at. He can almost hear the voice of Kalten in his mind.

But he still gets homesick to an extent. And so the broken nosed knight has retreated to the Sensoriums.

A large thatched cottage stands at the far end of a muddy yard. the smell of fresh baked bread fills the air. A large barn rises up behind the house, and fields stretch into the distance.  Its late evening, the clear and cloudless sky that peculiar shde of blue that can only be found at this time.

Sparhawk sits on a log to one side of the yard, Stacey provided whetstone in his hand, carefully working on his sword. His rhythmic movement is still not quite as smooth as it could be, although Brainiac 5 did a good job of healing his shoulder. Along with a few choice words about waiting so long, but Sparhawk let that wash over him. There were more important things to worry about.

So he's taking this time to relax, while he can.

While the other captives screamed, shouted, begged, the MacManus twins were eerily quiet as they struggled fiercely against their bonds. Their expressions flickered rapidly; hatred, fear, uncontrolled anger, and in brief, steadily lengthening flashes between, stubborn, utter calm.

Through it all, neither brother's gaze wavered from the other's.

Cybil is currently talking with Jaime Reyes about the possibility of hacking the ship's systems. Just a normal day on the meatship, a normal conversation in one of the cold zones, where there are no working sensors, about getting the hell OFF the ship, or turning the big bitch around.

"Do you think we could have our resident tech nerds build something to bridge the gap from technological to the more organic parts of her systems?"

Things can happen without Stacy knowing, that much is apparent now. The damage to her sensors is significant. But the fighting clued her in.

After it's all over, after those captured have been rescued, after the injured have been tended to, only the nest is left, and Stacy takes care of it.

||Infestation of Cluster 42, Level 4, Sector 7, Sublevel 12, Zone 37 has been detected. Triggering internal defenses. Decontamination commencing.||

There is a pause.

||Decontamination complete.||

Simple as that, once she knows the problem was there. Her internal sensors are damaged, especially in the city, and so are some of the systems monitoring them. You have to know what's broken to know to fix it.

Such a simple thing and it only took one man dying to make it happen. (His body is gone, by the way, ripped to shreds and eaten. There's not even a spot of blood on the floor. That's the bugs' doing. The bugs' bodies are gone too--that's Stacy's doing).

||Any injured personnel that still have not received medical attention, report to the nearest lift, and you will be transported to the MedBay. Any uninjured personnel, report to the Living Area, to the restroom facilities to undergo decontamination of xenobiological material. Then report to the Obs Deck to meet your new crew-mates.||

Said crew-mates--and the Doctor, who'd skipped out and miraculously ducked and weaved his way to the lift when he'd realized the Master was there--are there and waiting, and just a tad confused.

[ooc: read this first]

The rescue team stopped just inside the doors of the Vatican for a quick last-second pow-wow, and to make sure that everyone knew their jobs and places on this team. A note was also made that if anyone was going to be f*$%#ing stupid, they should let everyone else know so they could be tied up and left behind as bug-bait. This was not the time to be pulling shit, not with over a half-dozen people captured and (hopefully just) one dead.

The general plan was that they'd all follow Jaime, since his scarab could track down Paco and Robin, and hope like hell the others were with them and that they didn't run into too many bugs on the way. There was wiggle room in the plan for as much running and screaming and shooting as necessary, but the end result was dead bugs and rescued crew members so they could all go back to trying to figure out how to get home.

Last chance to stay behind and fight the good fight in an enclosed space.

It took some running and some fighting, but they made it to the Vatican without losing anyone, or even any limbs. The Vatican itself seemed deserted, although it was unlikely that they'd take that at face value at this point. Roaches were good at getting in where they weren't wanted, why should seven-foot ones be any different?

At least it would stall them, let everyone catch their breath and recover. Regroup, take a headcount. Come up with a plan.

Because they really, really needed one.

It was time to get a little more organized, share some information with each other. She had a talk with that bigface kid, Jaime, to see if he could do anything to shield them from Stacy's prying eyes and he said he had a few ideas, so a meeting place was chosen, and it was time to gather.

Cybil had a good authoritative, shouting voice.

"Everyone, listen up! We're meeting down in the city near that big tree. Grab whoever you see and get down there."

Indeed they were. People were starting to gather there.

[ooc: Instead of little subthreads, everyone post in one thread as people arrive. Try to keep the convo general, like everyone talking to each other, instead of devolving into private conversations.]

After the most recent pod-pop had been completed, Stacy began encouraging the crew towards the Obs Deck. They would be most effective if they were familiar with each other, and as the Jaime Reyes Incident had proved, leaving them to meet whenever they happened to cross paths was not effective.

Anyone who stepped into the Hub would be transported to the Obs Deck, no matter where they had intended to go. Those who had been exploring the City were verbally herded towards the Hub, although the energy tentacles did not make an appearance.

||Please report to the Obs Deck for Crew Introductions.||

The Obs Deck hadn't changed very much since they'd last been there. The creepy sculpture was still present, as were the fleshy couches. However, the couches were arranged in a more obvious circle this time.

Come and meet the new -- and in some cases, weirder -- members of your crew.

Nothing had ever, ever prepared the MacManus brothers for being abducted by aliens. This wasn't covered in school, or in any of the extra lessons Ma made them take. Nobody at the slaughterhouse ever talked about this, though one or two people may have mentioned it in a pub or bar or insert place serving alcohol here. Those people, though, they hadn't taken very seriously. Here, even the unshakable certainty of their Mission was trembling in the midst of so much foreign and bizarre.

So after the 'OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCK' factor had died down a little - definitely not completely, but a little - and the big group had been disbanded, the twins went where they felt sure to get some guidance.

During the very brief tour of the city, Connor noticed something in the distance. He'd nudged Murphy about it, but they left checking it out until later. When 'later' came, and they checked, it was, well, "Jesus fuckin' Christ! That's the fuckin'- that's- that's the-! Fuck!" the Vatican.

Ten minutes later, they'd calmed down sufficiently to stop cussing and were walking through the eerily quiet St. Peter's Square. Slipping wordlessly through the doors of the Basilica itself, they made their way to pray. At the moment it didn't matter why these buildings were here. The aliens might be overstepping themselves, in which case they would die soon. On the other hand, it might just be a sign. Before they could decide, Murphy and Connor needed advice.

Nearly an hour later they reemerged, troubled but much calmer. There had been no direct answers - there rarely were - but the two of them were ready to wait it out. Whatever happened here, their Mission remained unchanged.

The city was enormous, as they could see when they left the tube and entered the level it was on. It was enormous and cobbled together, seemingly. So many different buildings, temples, cathedrals, a massive tree, a labyrinth, so many different things. And overhead, a sort-of blue sky that wasn't a sky, and a light that could've been the sun if you squinted, projected there.

This ship wasn't just a ship, it was a COLONY, apparently. With a whole city inside.

"Un-Fucking-Believable."

This was where the other pod-people supposedly were, in this city.

"Okay, kids in the middle. I don't care if you can fight or can shoot lightning out your ears, stay in the center where we can protect you. If there's something the adults can't handle, then feel free to jump in. Noncombatants are with them. Anyone with a weapon, if someone is engaging an enemy in hand to hand, obviously, hold fire, even if you're a crack shot. Safeties of your weapons on until it seems like we might be running into something. For most of us, being able to shoot is only a thumbflick away and I don't want any friendly fire. Be careful not to hit anything that looks like a window, so we're not all tossed into space," Cybil said, standing at the front of the group.

"Andromeda. Cortana. Let us know what you can as we go, and if you think there's something we need to see, let us know to take a look. You're our tourguides."

And the important part.

"If you think you heard or saw something strange, calmly let the rest of the group know, even if you're not sure. We shouldn't be jumping at shadows and we can't panic, but we shouldn't be too relaxed either. We have no idea who or what might be here with us. Be careful. Not careless. Not paranoid."

Her gun was out in her hand, safety was on for now, and it was aimed at the floor.

"Kara, Harper, and Flash, I want you on point with me. Sam, Connor, Murphy, I want you bringing up the rear. The other people with superpowers in the middle, where you can get to the front or back easily if you're needed at either and where you're closest to the kids and the people without guns or powers to protect them."

She would, quite frankly, be amazed if anyone actually listened to her. She was just a cop. But

"Everyone ready? Let's go."

After the initial confusion of the pod release, the podlings have been allowed to wander at their discretion around the living area.

However, even though no one really pointed it out, people might find themselves drawn to a large oblong room at the one end. All of the hallways just seemed to lead there, for some strange reason.

The ceiling was massively tall, and shaped like a semi-circular dome. This sight would greet anyone who entered. There were fleshy couches and chairs for those that wished to sit down.

It looked, quite accurately, like a place people were meant to gather.

And gather they would.

Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.

There was condensation and mist spraying out from cracks in oblong glowing things that were clustered along the floors and walls of the huge, ancient-looking caverns.

For now, the ones that were cracking were the closest to the floor, but perhaps later, the figures sliding out of the pods would be sliding out onto the slimy walkways and platforms above.

Pop. Poppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiissss.

There was light, and unconscious minds breaking through the top of the briny, harsh waters of consciousness, as their bodies did similarly and broke free from the pods, sliding to the floor, shivering in pools of slime.

Once the temporary blindness that some of them had passed, and once they were free of their sleepy stupors: somebody had some splainin' to do.

But there would be no explanations, as the only thing that could explain was only watching, silently, almost as a mother would look at their child right after it was born.

Pop. KASCHUNKhissss.