nexus_crossings | The Start of the Storm

Entry tags:

event

The Start of the Storm

The god hosted Yule party left the Nexus in the state of beautiful Winter Wonderland. With the snow falling softly and steadily, and the beautiful festive lights twinkling in the darkness, the Nexus is left with a sense of serene nostalgia hanging in the cold air. This peace and joy clings to the streets for several weeks, buoying everyone’s mood as they look back on the past year and forward to ringing in the new one.

It starts in the Wilds, and the outskirts. The cold air suddenly feels like it freezes everything it touches in an instant. Light doesn’t quite pierce the gloom. Gentle snowfall becomes thick and falls hard. One or two people looking for shelter from their uninhabitable homes isn’t too noticeable. People can still enjoy their pretty Winter, blissfully unaware. Pipes freeze solid, paths become impassable, power cuts out, simple walks become baffling in the poor visibility. Soon it’s not one or two people, it’s many, it’s families. There are people coming in, bloody, bruised and scared, saying they were chased. Eventually the kindness of friends and strangers becomes strained. Spare rooms are packed to the brim and the storm that stays just shy of the bizarre torches somehow seems to have a slow, but unmistakable march closer towards a point where the Plaza, Industrial sector and Downtown meet. On top of that, people are complaining about PINpoints acting up or portals freezing over.

Streets are becoming packed full of people with far more problems than solutions. Huddling together and whispering about ghosts and monsters moving about in the shadows. In a place with no government, no organisation, no collaborative emergency services, chaos and confusion reigns supreme. And with chaos, comes panic. With confusion, comes frustration and anger. The Nexus is a powder keg waiting to blow.

That’s certainly how one Durant sees it. As a manager, Isidor is keen on organisation and order. Both things that are lacking in the Nexus at the moment. Groups pop up to help, but struggle to communicate effectively, or work together. Some people get free food twice, some people are still waiting for some at all. It’s madness, and Isidor can’t stand it. Particularly because she, her brother and sister-in-law are stuck here. So, when nobody else takes the mantle, Isidor Durant takes it upon herself to inject some order into this scrum.

In her fur hat and long coat, leather gloves and thick boots, Isidor can be seen directing people this way and that. There’s something about a confident person taking charge that means people instinctively defer to them. She becomes the point of contact quite easily, with people soon taking her direction regardless of whether or not they know her. Under her instruction, people are directed to a building that has tables set up, queues in front of them, and volunteers behind them taking names and telling people where to go. It might still be chaos, but at least now it’s organised chaos.

The question is: Where will your character go?

❅-❅-❅-❅

((Below are comments for each desk. Tag any of them, threadhop, or post with your own character. I suggest putting your character’s name in the subject to help keep things clear. Comments marked with a snowflake ( ❅ ) have been coordinated with the mods and I as official event comments. The OOC Post is here! If you have any questions, feel free to message me or one of the mods!))

Threads of Note
Medicine/Illness | Shelter/Heat | Food | Security/Crime | Lost items/people | Misc resources/Donations | Volunteers | Expeditions | Planning Table/The woman in charge | Drulb's Deelz | A Ship in the Outskirts

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Harley's yo-yo whips out like a fishing lure, flickering bright for a moment in the twilight of the storm. But nothing goes for the bait, nor is there anything to be seen just beyond the door. Nothing seems to be lying in wait there.

Not there.

The next sound comes from behind them, beyond one of those solidly frozen airlocks. It's one Palmer, perhaps, knows better than the others. The slow grind and creak of cracking ice, crunching as it gives way. Then an impact that rings through the hull.

And then it's metal that begins to groan, to shudder, to squeal as it's wrenched apart...

Knock, knock.

"I can withstand the cold ...relatively fine, but I am not designed for travel through it, which is why I remained be-" And then there's the wrenching of metal, the sound of hinges being torn and pressurized air (between the set of airlock doors) wooshing briefly. The creature, monster, whathaveyou, has the inner door to contend with now.

But after ripping the outer door off, and with no power to maglock it in place, it shouldn't be much of an issue for the monster to push its way through.

That said, the ripping metal interrupts 2V's explanation, when he yelps out loud and steps back in surprise, away from the noise. "Oh. Dear. She's going to be Displeased about this..."

Looks like both Mistress and Droid are going to have a bad day. Especially as it'll inevitably rip its way into the ship. Poorly lit and nearly impossible to see in without power.

"I ain't going to use my exploding one in such a tight space, Palmer. Nor would I use the poison one, so close to allies." Harley explains, after her yo-yo doesn't lead to any clues.

Then the sounds come from behind them, she turns and frowns again. And quickly, she signals to the others. "Likely this is a trap... try to scare us out of the ship, where others are waiting to attack."

"So let's stay together. Backs against backs. So we can protect each other." She has fought in a situation like this before. Some weird creature of the unknown. And hopefully she can keep everyone safe.

"I want to see one explode," Furiosa says of the weaponized yo-yo, but she doesn't take her eyes from the door despite the chatter.

"If you have any kind of outdoor cl--" She begins to advise the droid, but the crack and grind of ice stops her short. She, too, starts to turn, but then seeing Harley's checking it out, she locks her gaze back on the open doorway again.

"A trap or a distraction," she says through gritted teeth. "I'm on the open doorway; someone else get eyes on the others."

The sound of metal being wrenched open has her on edge, breath rapid, but she's perfectly steady, eyes and gun muzzle trained on the boarding ramp.

Palmer jumps as he hears the metal being wrenched open. It's a sound he's familiar with, and one where he knows what it means. Of course the creature outside wouldn't give up that easily.

He looks for the general direction of the scraping sound, handgun drawn, ready to shoot when he sees something. He's pretty sure at this point that their visitor isn't friendly.

"Any idea what's out there?" Palmer can't see what's going on himself, but he can guess that the creature is the same kind as the creatures behind the recent attacks. And he'd wanted to see them.

He's well aware that he's the least physically capable of the party, and saw the least combat. Nevertheless, he wants to make himself useful to Furiosa and Harley.

Getting caught in an ambush is certainly no-one's idea of a good day. Then again, getting cornered by something that can rip frozen airlocks off their hinges might not be better, exactly. Especially if there really is more than one.

Still nothing rears an ugly maw over the boarding ramp. The group stands clustered in the middle of the room, framed in the grey light that filters through the open rampway. Nothing stirs but the snow... while somewhere in the gloom of the ship, doors creak as they're forced open.

And you'd think, perhaps, daylight would glimmer through the open airlock.

Instead the shadows flood in.

Movement flickers around and above as something scatters into the darkness of the ship. Among the support pillars. Skirts that dim and lonely pool of light. Claws echo from metal; shadows leap in the corner of the eye. Whatever is in the ship now, they are many and fast and it feels that the expedition is about to be surrounded. They have seconds to react.

Claws against metal, doors being forced open and the ship being damaged. Oh. Dear. Mistress was going to be so displeased at the state of the vessel when she returned. No, she wouldn't blame him (considering what she's up against in the alternate thread), but this was a fine mess.

A fine mess he was so very not programmed for. Oh, dear. Why couldn't he have been a battle droid?

He never did drop the blaster--mostly because it was a request at someone other than his Mistress, who wasn't authorized to tell him to do so. He aims it in the dark, but, perhaps wisely, doesn't follow through with firing. "It's.. in the ship, oh. Maker, I am not programmed for this."

He's trying to follow the noise, but the way it echoes through the ship makes it difficult to follow, and he doesn't have a fancy targeting suite like a battle droid, or any advanced vision modes like the same.

Harley doesn't like this situation. It feels like they are being surrounded... but she can't see the creatures.

"Might be time for one to explode. Palmer and Furiosa... head for the boarding ramp. Let me give us some cover..." She pulls out another yo-yo, one that is weaponized. She will have to wait until Palmer and Furiosa have distanced themselves from her before throwing the yo-yo with poison gas at the darkness.

"You coming with us?" She asks the droid.

Furiosa doesn't need orders to react to an imminent threat. The airlock being forced open with no attack coming from the open ramp would seem to confirm Harley's fears about their attackers wanting to force them into the open, and Furiosa swivels slightly when it becomes clear the ship is breached, a few steps away from the others but still within the circle of light. She turns toward the attack, because she and Harley are the fighters here and there is no choice but to respond to a threat, but she tries to keep the ramp in her peripheral vision as well.

There is nothing to be seen in the surge of shadow coming toward them, but the sounds tell her many, fast, sharp, and above. Her mind's eye constructs something fancifully like tremendous scorpions, all blackness and claws. It hardly matters how accurate that image is in reality. Envisioning something threatening yet familiar makes this situation somewhat less overwhelming.

Even before the droid speaks or Harley gives her orders, Furiosa has aimed her pistol and pulled the trigger twice. She can't afford to waste ammunition if it has no effect, but shooting at the shadowy mass while it's down the hall from them is the only time she can use a ranged weapon without fear of hitting the people around her.

Once the two rounds fly, though, their attackers are too close and Harley is telling them she'll cover them, so Furiosa reaches out with her metal hand and drags Palmer a little closer, heading for the ramp obediently. "Head down! They're on the ceiling!"

Okay, she's only guessing it's a 'they' and they're on the ceiling based on sound, but the last thing she wants is to watch something reach down and grab one of them by the neck.

"How many of 'em do you think there are? I can't see, but I'm guessing there's more than one." Palmer doesn't dare shoot, for fear of hitting someone on his side. He has a hard time tracking the creatures.

Palmer instinctively freezes. The creatures are coming after them, and his one small gun won't be enough to hold them all at bay. There's more than one, for sure, he's having trouble following their movements, and he's probably the most vulnerable member of the team in terms of physical capabilities. All in all, Palmer isn't feeling particularly optimistic.

However, Furiosa dragging him closer snaps the mechanic out of it, and he scampers toward the ramp, joining her. He wants to be out of the way when Harley brings out heavier weaponry, as well as out of the creatures' grasp if he can help it. His mind's conjuring up creatures from movies and real life - scuttling xenomorphs, the snarling Dog-Thing, monsters of every shape and size. He hasn't gotten a good look at the creatures, letting his imagination run away with him. The fact that the danger is very real doesn't help.

He ducks, imagining a twining tail or a tendril reaching down to snag him by the throat and haul him up, like a monster out of a movie he remembered seeing before Antarctica. Except there isn't just one monster, there's a whole pack of them. They're outnumbered and surrounded. Not good.

"Why are these things after us, anyway?"

The darkness of the ship masks so much- numbers, size, shapes- but the shadows scatter, something squeals harsh and inhuman and falters when Furiosa's gun barks. Suddenly it does feel that the enemy is many. Many, and everywhere. Something snarls and hisses from above as the group falls back. Something slashes at Palmer's clothes as he strays too close. Shadowed forms around them coil back as if to leap- and that's when Harley lets her yo-yo fly.

Behind the group it explodes into a cloud that stains the air, almost luminous in the thin light. The creatures recoil from the billowing gas, bounding backward into shadow. Hesitation buys the expeditionary trio time. Time to grab their team and go.

Before they're quite out of there, the hull shudders again. The airlock frame creaks with stress. So little noise, but the creatures behind quieten. If anyone looks back before they run, they'll glimpse something back in the darkness. Something coming through the airlock, unfolding itself from the rent-open doorway, huge in the confined space of the deck.

Whatever waits out in the snow, at least it's not that.

Without the ship's engine making noise, sounds echo through the inside easily enough, the floors, walls, and everything's made of metal. 2V steps back with a little bit of a panicked sound of his own at the sudden swarm and arrival of so many of these things.

He really, really wished that Dia had stayed behind. She's so much better suited for this sort of thing than he is.

"I... don't know what their after, and self preservation overrides my orders," through, ironically enough, earlier orders from Dia, given how much she values his presence and (some of) his opinions. "We need to leave, now."

It's not cowardice when it's the right thing to do, he won't stand a chance with these things, not alone with a blaster that he's a lousy shot with. He'd rather take his chances with Dia'ndria, rather than whatever these monsters are.

"How heavy are you? If you are not equipped to walk in the snow I might be able to carry ya..." Harley makes sure he is heading out of the ship, with Furiosa and Parker. She stays behind them, between the rest of her group and whatever is coming into the ship right now.

She has her exploding yo-yo left... and she has it in her hand, ready to throw. She needs to make sure it is the right decision first... and is not burying herself or the others inside the ship with the creature.

"Keep alert outside! We don't know what we are being forced to face..." She warns the others. Yo-yo in one hand, she pulls her ice dagger into her other hand, to defend herself from any attacks from the shadows.

Right. Furiosa isn't scared of much. She's faced down cyclones with steely silence, spat in the face of men that would see her strung up and sun-dried, and driven a straight course with lances and gunfire lighting up the desert all around her. But the way the hull of the ship keens and shudders goes right down the center of her spine, and while she doesn't dare stop to look back, she can almost feel the pressure that must be unfolding back there. A living thing, or a thing that's not dead.

No, there's no doubt in her mind now that they need to be out of the ship, even at the risk of taking to open ground. Something wants the salvage, and it's bigger than them, and maybe they can turn and face it but not from where they were standing.

She wastes none of her breath in words, metal arm coming around Palmer's back to shelter him--he's the only Blackthumb she's got, ok?--and hustling him down the boarding ramp, then around and behind one of the landing struts. She points toward the snowy landscape beyond as if commanding him to watch that direction, then positions herself, gun ready, in case something other than Harley or the droid comes down the ramp after them.

Palmer, on the other hand, is terrified. Before his arrival in the Nexus, he was almost killed by a creature that pretended to be a dog and tricked the mechanic into letting it in his room. Next thing he knew, the dog exploded into a mess of grasping, wriggling tendrils, Palmer desperately hiding in the closet to stop the monster from catching him. Only talking to Kinner gave him the slightest idea of what would have happened to him if he'd been caught, and he's very glad he wasn't.

He knows there's something on the ship, something large, aggressive, and very, very dangerous. He doesn't know why the mystery beast wants the ship, but as far as he's concerned the creature can have it. Palmer isn't in the mood to be eaten today, no sir. While he doesn't see himself as a coward, he also knews when to cut his losses and not to pick fights he can't win.

Trying not to seem too scared, the mechanic obeys Furiosa's orders, drawing his gun as he keeps watch in the direction she pointed.

Now is a very good time to retreat. The billow of toxic gas has bought them precious seconds, twisting and dissipating out in the draft from the storm outside. The deck shakes and the ramp rattles dully as the great shadow at the end of the room drops to the floor. Its presence seems to spur the others on. A handful at the front brave the edges of the gas to lunge forward through it. The two first and boldest spring toward Harley, and into the light...

And they're human-sized, these creatures. Roughly human shaped, too, though their heads are too narrow, their limbs angled strangely as they bound forward to slash at Harley. Everything else is hidden beneath the ragged cloth and scraps of metal bundling them against the cold- or the light. The glitter of the dagger each carries, however? That's all too clear.

As far as 2V's concerned, now is definitely a great time to retreat, "I.. suppose I weigh a bit more than the average human my size--Oh! Dear."

There's a brief uptick of panic in his voice at the gas being released from Harley's weapons, to say nothing of these things coming into view.

What are they?

2V has no idea.

All he knows is that at this point? They need to get the hell away from these horrific things. At this point he suspects it doesn't want the ship, so much as its various occupants.

Adding to the sounds of these things moving across the metal deck plates, is the ship's occasional creaking at the snow on the outer hull, and ice forming further on it.

"Get with Furiosa and Palmer then... I will help you get to safety once I have dealt with these attackers..."

Harley is used to fighting multiple opponents at once. And because she has an immunity to toxins and poisons... she can fight close to the toxic gas without concern. It might even give her an advantage... since she can force the creatures to stay in the toxic gas a little further.

The ice dagger she is using is the same one that Loki gifted her during Christmas. And she is incredibly quick with her attacks. Harley can dodge attacks just as quickly with her enhanced agility and speed. Besides her dagger is magically enchanted to cold-cauterize the wounds she inflicts. Unless their weapons have magic on them... Harley is not concerned about being injured herself, since she heals quickly.

"Furiosa get our new friend and Palmer away from the ship. If you get a clean shot take it..." Harley trusts the other woman to shoot the right person, even if she is still in the mix of the action.

Harley doesn't know what these creatures are... but now she can see them clearly she is keeping her stand. Protecting the others from them.

She is a good fighter. It is what Suicide Squad trained her for. And she is just crazy enough not to be frightened by these strange creatures.

Once again, someone else is taking the risks for the group, and it's a weird experience for Furiosa to watch. She doesn't want to see Harley sacrifice herself, but she's not foolish enough to argue, either. "Witnessed!" She yells back to her, hoping it's an unnecessary observation, and that the other woman will come out of the fray intact.

In the meantime, she's been given charge of a man and a droid. Leaving Palmer behind the strut, she hastens back up the ramp a short distance to hold out her metal arm toward 2V. "Fast as you can, c'mon, go!"

Once she gets her group together, she'll head back down the path the way they came, because going forward into unproven ground is the worst idea she can think of. Still, she's not liking their chances, because they will be leaving shelter for open ground. If their attackers have ranged weaponry, or if there are more in the snowy open, they're going to be leaving one pitched battle for another.

Palmer respects Harley's courage, especially since he's a self-admitted coward who simply can't imagine taking a risk for the group like this. He hadn't even faced that Norwegian who'd showed up at Outpost 31, and the Norwegian was nothing compared to the Thing. Hell, the man had been trying to warn them.

He watches Furiosa go to get 2V, waiting for orders from Furiosa or Harley. They'll have to enter the open, and he's afraid the creatures won't let them go without a fight. What's going on, anyway? Why are the creatures so hellbent on giving them trouble?

"What do you want?" he asks them, both challenging and genuinely curious. They don't seem interested in conversation, but he wants to pry for information. They're clearly intelligent and social, if only among themselves. Maybe, if they can speak or could be bothered to answer, at least he'll get some insight into why they're attacking people. "The ship?"

Their blades probably aren't magical as such, but they do spark and crackle with electric potential. A complication Harley may want to watch out for. Nor do they seem entirely hindered by the gas, despite their wariness of it. When Harley's knife bites home on one it jumps backward with a snarl, a wisp of something chemical and acrid filtering from between the cloth on its chest. The other creature immediately presses the attack, and it's not alone. From the shadows springs a taller creature, masked by a flattened helm into which a couple of tubes feed. Twin swords spark in its hands and a short cape curls around its body. It slashes at the troublesome human, letting its smaller comrade try to flank her. Their eyes are bright now- eyes or the slits in their masks, who knows, glowing a an unearthly blue.

Meanwhile, gangly forms clamber around the sides of the hatchway, dropping onto the ramp past Harley. More of the creatures- one or two bigger ones, mostly a handful of small ones with things that sure look like pistols drawn. They grab at the robot too late to stop him being pulled away down the ramp. If Furiosa means to shoot, she'll have to pick her targets, but it might slow down the horde starting to boil out of the ship after them. Harley's running out of time to get out of there.

They don't seem to be paying any attention to Palmer's attempt at communication- one, perhaps, that turns its head with the four eye slits of its helm aglow and makes a rasping sound that might be laughter. The low snarls, scratchy barks and inhuman squeals of its kindred are only getting louder. More and more of those in the ship are joining in, pressing forward in their eagerness to go after the prey.

Fortunately, 2V isn't an astromech moving on wobbly legs, or wheels. Humanoid design means he can get going when he needs to, taking Furiosa's lead to get the fuck out of the ship as quickly as he can possibly manage, "Oh, dear. This is not ending well!"

Nevertheless, outside may be a terrifying prospect, but at least he can see better about whatever's coming once he gets out into the ice and snow. Dia won't be happy he had to abandon the ship, but she'd be further displeased if he allowed himself to be destroyed.

That said, this only meant there were going to be new repairs that had to be made, now. Oh, dear. Oh dear indeed.

Edited (icon!) 2019-01-30 01:45 (UTC)

The spark and crackle of those daggers only remind Harley of her 'treatments' back at Arkham. And she is already plenty pissed off... but it triggers something dangerous inside of her.

She fights off the creatures swarmed around her with a viciousness that few people in the Nexus see from her. This is not a time for socializing, or looking at the brighter things of life. This is a time of serious battle. The lives of her comrades are at risk.

When the taller creature makes its appearance, Harley narrows her eyes. This must be one of the creatures she has heard about. One of the ones that have killed other citizens of the Nexus without any concern. With a quick switch of putting her ice dagger in her left hand -- she reaches back and pulls out her fire sword in her right hand. The blade springing to life with flames.

She slashes at the smaller creatures trying to flank her. And attacks viciously at the taller creature. Harley is standing her ground right now -- determined to be the focus of the things attacking her in the hope that her comrades get to safety. After all... Harley is trained for these kind of situations.

She has her agility. She has her strength. She has her determination.

A part of her thrives on the combat situation that she finds herself in. Fighting without having to hold back. That psychotic part of her mind that enjoys the thrill of battle is loving every second of this. Every swipe of her blades. The flame sword in one hand and the ice dagger in the other.

Right now -- Harley Quinn is a Valkyrie -- a warrior woman who is determined to fight to her last breath to protect those most important to her. She will find a weakness. She will endure. She will protect those who depend on her -- and those who don't even know her.

"Palmer! This ain't tea time! Get the FUCK to safety!" She yells over her shoulder. "And if you can... shoot a few while you do."

Edited 2019-01-30 03:57 (UTC)

"2V, go first," Furiosa snaps, pushing the droid ahead of Palmer. "Follow the tracks we left, stay close, tell me if any are circling ahead of us."

V8 help them if the droid is unwilling to follow her orders. She's willing to protect him, but if he's dead weight she'll focus on getting her and Palmer out of trouble ahead of him. He seems the least likely of them to fight, but a metal chassis is nothing to sneeze at. She dares to hope if he's confronted too closely with one of the monsters his frightened flailing will do some damage to it.

"Palmer! I've got 10:00, you aim toward 2:00, don't hit Harley, anything else that moves is fair game."

Assuming anyone's following her orders, she's quick to get them in a triangle position, with 2V leading, her and Palmer side by side firing at the enemy as they (hopefully) move down the track they just came from. Furiosa has no issue with walking or jogging backwards as she empties the clip of her Taurus; she's hoping Palmer can do the same, because they can't just stand and fire, either--they have to go. Her shots have to be judicious, because she only has ten rounds left in the clip, but she'll use every last one of them.

A handgun is not great at a distance, but Furiosa's aim has always been superlative. She's not going to get fancy, aiming at mid-body for every one of the monsters she shoots at, and trying to pick off the smaller, faster ones first.

Once that clip is empty she hastily shoves the Taurus into her coat and pulls out the Glock. Seventeen rounds, and then as far as she's concerned, they're down to tooth and nail and metal arm.

"I know it ain't tea time. I was just hopin' we could settle this peacefully. But it looks like they won't give us that option, huh?"

Palmer cringes as one of the creatures seems to mock his attempts to communicate. So much for that idea. He would have felt more comfortable if the creature just attacked. The laughter makes him think that the creature did understand that he was trying to talk. It just didn't care. Well, Palmer will show them a thing or two. The mechanic grits his teeth. He's no RJ MacReady, but he's no pushover, either. The normally relaxed stoner takes on an uncharacteristically fierce appearance.

He aims his gun squarely at the creature who laughed at him and fires. They couldn't say he hadn't tried for a peaceful solution. He gave the creatures a chance to explain their reasons for attacking.They didn't think he was worth the effort of talking to or didn't have conversations with their prey. Well, he'll have to show them he's more than just prey. He's willing to kill if he has to, though he never has killed before.

The time for talking's over. Clearly the ice monsters don't understand peaceful methods of communication. Like the Thing, except at least these creatures Palmer can fight. Palmer'll show the creatures he's worthy of their respect through force and gunplay.

There's another series of shots as Palmer fires at the creatures within range, careful not to hit anybody on his side. The mechanic's expression is one of cold, fierce rage. He is through with being prey.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject