rp_help: (pic#)
rp help ([community profile] rp_help) wrote in [community profile] janitorscloset2016-09-10 06:29 pm
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[Event] Ship Crash on Chorus

I.

     The place where Agent Washington faced down the Meta was deep into the Freelancer facility's security systems, deep into the place where its experimental tech had been moved after the Mother of Invention's crash in the snow. But chief among the signals from barely tested equipment was the Meta's own armor, which gave off many types of energy. Temporal waves are, even now, barely understood, and Wash has no idea when he chooses to set off an electromagnetic pulse to obliterate it that the equipment will be set off one final time. The Alpha, Church, joins the Meta's collective of AIs, and instants later the EMP tears through the facility—causing the AIs in the collective not to be deleted, but to be wrenched into a temporal rift, sent aimlessly through the universe.

II.
     Like all proprietary technology, Freelancer equipment has a certain energy signature, and years later a ship full of Freelancer equipment falls into its own rift in time and space—an equipment malfunction that caused it to attempt changing course, jumping to hyperspace, and powering down all at once. This led to its crash on the planet Chorus. As far as the signal carrying the AIs is concerned, this happens simultaneously to the Meta's defeat, simply in another wrinkle in the fabric of the universe. Thankfully, the ship's systems are full of equipment that can host AI technology, allowing all of the AIs to arrive safely within its systems. They are all here, or at least they should be, as far as anyone can tell.

III.
     Yet as things continue it's apparent there's another set of casualties when it comes to the Chorus nexus event. And it's the method of disposal for Freelancer armor that's responsible. The explosives used to destroy this armor after an agent's death are just as experimental as the rest of Freeelancer's equipment, and the explosion of these charges leads to the same temporal nexus event as the EMP and the crash. These manifest a bit differently, as there are physical bodies involved—the use of the towers on Chorus that led to the ship's crash draws these soldiers bodies as though they are some kind of a magnet, leading to the revival of the recently deceased agents on Chorus.
neverknocks: (this drink in my hand)

[personal profile] neverknocks 2016-09-13 01:43 am (UTC)(link)
York tips her head back with a groan and regrets it with a short wave of vertigo, rocking back on her heels. Yeah, she remembers that fight. "Goddammit. I can't believe I got taken out by Wyoming. That guy is such an asshole."

And then that second detail permeates and York jerks back in a double take, suddenly realizing that there's a void where she keeps reaching, and she claps a hand to the back of her neck. "Delta -- " Her stomach goes cold. Delta's absence is like a hole in the back of her mind. "Where is he?"
highinthemiddle: (and let you creep under my skin)

[personal profile] highinthemiddle 2016-09-13 02:33 am (UTC)(link)
Ohio winces sympathetically, a useless gesture behind the faceplate.

"Same place Pi is."

He doesn't sound as torn up about it as he may once have been, just tired.

He remembers how that feels. After working with an AI for so long, just reaching for that place where they are and finding nothing. Flipping all the neural switches and no lights coming on. Silence. A void. His throat tightens just recalling it, even though he's had a long time to get used to Pi's absence. The wound isn't raw anymore, but it's still there.

What the fuck happened to us? Men and women and machines.
neverknocks: (this pain in my chest)

[personal profile] neverknocks 2016-09-13 01:01 pm (UTC)(link)
York's mind reels, nausea overcoming the chill in her stomach, and she hits the release and tugs off her helmet, her hand going back to the back of her neck, to check for real, and even with gauntleted fingers she can tell the chip slot's empty. Her one good eye fixes on Ohio's face, her own face drained of its usual color and humor. Even after everything went to shit, even after she and Delta had roughing it out on their own all those years, she'd never lost that flippant bullshit sense of humor. Right now, she's not feeling it so much.

"Yeah? And where's that?"

She has a feeling she's not going to like the answer, but fuck it.
highinthemiddle: (and let you creep under my skin)

[personal profile] highinthemiddle 2016-09-14 02:40 am (UTC)(link)
Shit.

He's going to have to be the one that tells York this.

And she's standing there looking at him with her helmet off, and it feels wrong and impersonal and weird to do this with his on because then it's not really face to face, even though he's almost gotten used to thinking of this helmet as his face after so long, so he'll just have to take it off here, just a second, and it fucking sucks and-

"...There was an EMP set off at Freelancer Command."

There it is.

Ohio looks different. Someone smashed him up pretty bad and he still has the marks to prove it, his nose is bent and a scar twists across it. He looks tired. He looks older, much older than the years between then and now should account for.

"I'm sorry."
neverknocks: (16)

[personal profile] neverknocks 2016-09-15 12:01 am (UTC)(link)
York doesn't choke on a lot of things, but this -- this she can't swallow. It's like a piece of her is missing and now he's telling her she can't get it back. York's always the laid back one, refusing to let her feathers get ruffled, but right now, she's got none of that. She almost wishes Ohio hadn't taken off his helmet, just so she could yell at him to say that again to her face.

She just stares at him for a few long moments, choking on it, and then she runs a hand over her face, tips her head back and mutters, "Son of a bitch."

She kind of wants to throw up, but she just breathes instead, fingers pressed to the back of her neck. She'd like to ask Ohio about a dozen questions -- are you sure, what happened, how do you know, how many -- but she doesn't, just squeezes her eyes shut and breathes through her teeth.
highinthemiddle: (I was weary-eyed)

[personal profile] highinthemiddle 2016-09-15 01:38 am (UTC)(link)
Ohio doesn't know what to do about a lot of things these days. Friends are definitely high on the list. He's used to being thrown out with teams he'll never see again, and who he quickly comes to hate each time. Indiana keeps trying to reach out to him, and it's his duty as a former friend to not respond because Indy is an idiot and will probably get himself killed if encouraged.

It's not good for him, but Ohio's been functionally working alone. He hasn't broken sad news to someone he gives a shit about in years.

He doesn't reach out because that just seems weird, he's not sure if that's what he should do here and he sure as hell didn't want anyone touching him after he lost Pi. Instead, he turns a little to let York collect herself. It's a moment to survey their perimeter anyway, which he needs to do because if he were doing things right that would be priority number one.
neverknocks: (this pain in my chest)

[personal profile] neverknocks 2016-09-16 08:51 pm (UTC)(link)
York's glad for Ohio's restraint, because she doesn't think she could handle that kind of shit right now, not pity or sympathy or anything, not even from someone else who'd lost theirs, especially not from someone else who'd lost theirs, and sure as hell not from someone she hasn't seen in years, someone who looks like he's been as fucked up and bent and broken as much as she has since Freelancer. She can't handle any of that shit right now. She wants to cry for the first time in a long time, but not right fucking now.

York stands there like that for a minute or so, head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut, one hand clamping over the back of her neck like it's -- it's not security, there's no security left there, so she just rubs her gauntleted hands over her face until she feels the feeling come back to her mouth and lets out a breath. She looks pale and white around the lips, but if that's from Delta's loss or just recently being dead or any kind of loss at all, it's not clear, and anyway she shakes her head, reaching up to tug her hair out of the bun it's already falling out of, because fuck it.

"Okay," she breathes, more to steady herself than anything else, and she finally looks back at Ohio, and she looks fucking tired. "Okay. What now?"
highinthemiddle: (The day I met you)

[personal profile] highinthemiddle 2016-09-18 03:49 am (UTC)(link)
Is he helmeting up again? No. It's a stupid thing to do, but fuck it. He was dead, he's fairly sure. The helmet smells like chem filters and the inside of a kig-yar pirate ship, and excuse him if he just wants to fucking breathe some real air for a few minutes.

Ohio maglocks it to his suit and starts moving, heading for high ground. Hopefully they'll be able to get a better look at this place.

"Now we figure out where the fuck we are."

He says it with the certainty he's been learning to fake in recent months. He's a survivor of a dead project with a cryptic code name and a scarred face, the people he gets teamed with have certain expectations based on that. It's just easier if he lives up to them.
neverknocks: (12)

[personal profile] neverknocks 2016-09-18 10:10 pm (UTC)(link)
York considers putting her helmet back on just as a shield, but God, does she need the air, so she does the same and runs another hand down her face, nodding. One more tired breath in and out.

"Good plan." For the first time, York takes a real look around, squinting against the sun peeking out from over high cliffs and thick jungle canopy. She's been a lot of places, plenty of different planets, but most of them had at least a whiff of civilization. "Got any leads?"