EVENT LOG: BEYOND THE SEA

[nextnightmods]

EVENT LOG:
BEYOND THE SEA

characters: the key extraction team, the power restoration team, and the resource extraction team.
location: in the helix station under the lake!
date/time: july 8 - 15th.
content: three teams have been organized to explore the helix station, and hopefully come up with a solution for the adolescent world eater.
warnings: injury, water horror, monster horror, body horror, drowning. more details on potential warnings can be found on the event writeup! each thread will be tagged accordingly, please do the same for any threading in the open prompts.

arrival.

At the behest of the warning shared by Cao Pi, Kuai Lang, and Rosinante, some members of the lab team managed to dig through the files on one of the old terminals to recall a few submarines. Three of them arrive quietly in the night, lining up along the docks just as they used to when the Night Market would pull up to the harbor to share their wares. Only change is this time, each submarine is absolutely empty.

The inside of each submarine is limited in size. There's seating for six, though if there are more than that intending to make the journey, they'll have to stand or get pretty cozy. There's a pair of chairs at a console with all sorts of implements, dials, and radars. However, each submarine readout already indicates that the trajectory is planned and they are still functioning on autopilot.

As character settle in, the ride takes about an hour. A cold robotic voice indicates projected arrival time every ten minutes. Well, at least for the first half of the journey. About halfway, the lights in the submarine begin to dim. Safety locks will trigger automatically, trapping a few characters in their seat. Looking over controls and attempting to override the system results in no response.

The robotic voice kicks in to warn, Power at unsafe levels. Emergency protocol in effect. From then on, the ride will be in more or less complete darkness, with an occasional update from the robotic voice that grows more and more distorted the closer characters get. In addition, as the submarines sink farther into the water, some characters might experience seasickness, ear popping, or dizziness as their bodies react to the changes in pressure.

However, about an hour into their dark voyage, the submarines will slow and eventually jolt suddenly. Emergency locks will open, dim red lights will flicker on, and the submarine will slowly begin decompression, allowing characters to exit out the hatch and up a short ladder into the hangar of the Helix Station.

Stepping out into the hangar, the dire reality of the Night Market's emergency becomes clear. The air is stale and thick with the stench of blood. The large room features three moon pools which hold the submarines, as well as a broad platform with wheeled carts and boxes for transporting materials. On one wall, three spare dive suits are hung, and a shelf holds oxygen tanks and other diving equipment, but the tanks look to have been punctured by something with crushing, piercing claws. A streak of blood paints the floor in front of them, and scattered broken remnants of a couple of lanterns have been kicked to the wall. A body, headless and disemboweled, has come to rest by a door labeled Research and Development. A small room adjacent to this one has had its door smashed and broken completely as if forced open by something with immense strength. The room itself is plain, containing a list of schedules and deliveries on the wall intended for June, but stacked labels over a door leading further into the station read Crew Quarters and Power and Maintenance.

The three submarines are at critically low power levels, though it's immediately apparent that there is limited power available at the Helix Station. It will be impossible to charge and make a voyage back until power is restored. There's nothing for it; groups will have to splinter off to explore the Helix Station completely.

downtime.

While there's a lot of the station to explore and plenty of work to be done, it's not possible for characters to shove ahead and search the entire time. Every once and awhile, they will need to pull back and rest up.

The best place for this is back in the submarine hangar. The subs themselves have seating and a few bunks for resting. It might be a good place to rest up, or try to patch each other up from a few wrong turns during explorations.

Lastly, the team above ground has prepared a small parcel of rations. Characters might want to catch up with each other over something to eat, to keep up their strength and their mood.

ooc.

For refreshers on the basic mechanics of this event, please see the event writeup! for infosharing as explore threads wrap up, please see the header here. Voting on resolution of the event will be found here after the threads begin to wrap up.

Some last reminders: try to plan on connecting with your team partners and responding at least once a day. Provide overall input for your characters responses just in case you can't check in. Communicate with the partners in your team to help build explore-like responses!

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Comments

Bucky/Soldat | OTA

[worthallthis]

I. Submarines Suck

This is. Familiar. In a bad way. The pressure of it, the sound of it, the stale air, it's all too familiar. Soldat stays very still and quiet in the submarine, memories of shipment to mission sites flitting through their head, the feeling of the moment before freezing painfully close, the Asset loud and tense behind their thoughts, muttering to itself and making the arm buzz and shift. Even the distorted alerts and plunge into darkness only makes them close their eyes and hold themselves even more still, barely breathing. The lurch of docking and the airlocks cycling open take a long moment to register, and they push themselves into motion and away from the wall only slowly and with effort.

The smell of blood on the other side of that airlock is actually kind of a relief. This, they know what to do with. This is familiar in a different way. Soldat prowls around the hanger, loosening up, investigating each available door without actually leaving the main space, and crouching beside the dead body a moment. Wondering if that's the one they exchanged messages with.

The Asset is still close under the surface... but that's probably not a bad thing, given the danger here. (Just keep it under control. No. No killing the good guys, asshole. No. Leave it alone, Sarge. It'll be fine.)


II. Downtime

Nothing is making Soldat go back into that submarine until it's time to leave. Really, nothing about this place is making them want to bed down at all. The artificial pressure is constant, the smell is pervasive, and the small sounds of settling metal just sound like the old transport tank. It will just be nothing but nightmares of cryo and HYDRA and killing. So they catch sleep in cat-naps here and there, usually either wedged into an out of the way corner buried under their coat or in an exhausted ball next to of the few people they consider "safe" (and 80% of the time they wind up flailing out of those catnaps with nightmares, anyway), but mostly they just... don't sleep.

Which means every time they're not making a patrol of the safe and reclaimed areas, or working on a particular project, Soldat is mostly eating or feeding people, or some combination of both. Thankfully, they expected that and pretty much everything they brought that wasn't bullets or weapons was food of some kind. They put sandwiches together for everyone else from a basket of bread, lettuce, cheese, and lunchmeat (Rosi and Law get lettuce sandwiches); dish out cold stew from a pre-made pot brought from the Invincible; munch from a very big bag of trail mix and nuts; and chew obsessively on their pendants. They'll shove cups and plates (mostly scavenged from the station rather than brought with) into people's hands with a firm, "Eat."

And they keep watch with the flat Asset expression to keep from betraying anything worse. They're here to fix things and deal with a problem, not to drown in awful memories. When actually doing work, it's fine, they can keep it together... but not even the Winter Soldier can work every minute of every night.

downtime

[callada]

When Rosinante finally stumbles out of the R&D hall, he's clearly in dire need of recuperation, and food is a key part of that. Sleep, right now, is not, given he apparently slept for three days straight, and given the persistent feeling like he might just choke or vomit, he suspects he's not going back to sleep any time soon either.

His clothes are soggy with water and blood, several fine lacerations all over his arms and face have been thankfully bandaged and cleaned, and he doesn't want to move, so it's a relief when Soldat walks over with food in hand. He sticks his cigarette in his mouth so he can take the plate, and damn, that lettuce sandwich looks excellent.

"Thanks," he says, and goes ahead and takes a bite. What? He's hungry. "Guess it's been a few days?" he adds once he's able to swallow.

[worthallthis]

You enjoy that, Rosi. Soldat came up with that idea just for you and Law. They drop to a slow crouch next to where Rosi's sitting, so they can look up rather than down(-ish). "We were down there about half a day ourselves. We were the second group back. Starting to get pretty worried about the last of you."

[callada]

"Green-eyes found us," he says, which is probably enough of an answer but he decides to go ahead and elaborate. "They-"

Well, he wants to elaborate. Before he can continue, his eyes widen and he gasps, then coughs a few times before sitting there with his eyes screwed shut for a good few seconds. When finally he feels like he can breathe again, he sighs in disgust, then tries again. "I think they were trying to show us their version of events, but you know how things go with them. The hallway we were in was flooded, and it's lucky nobody drowned while we were passed out."

[worthallthis]

Soldat gives a little twitch of their own, but doesn't speak. They wait. They know what that is. They even know the proper name for it, now, instead of a memory malfunction. They can wait until Rosinante's ready. "We should have gone to look for you," they say, subdued, once Rosi finishes. "Gotten you out sooner. I'm sorry. What all did they show you?"

[callada]

"They showed some of us what happened in the weapons development room. The rest saw the experiments, which I could tell you what I was told but you might be better off asking Cao Pi, Link, or Hope. Us, though - we saw the prototype of the weapon Weaver was working on. Everything seemed normal, and then suddenly it switched to after the green-eyes got loose. A lot of their work was smashed up, Preston was - I guess he hid in there, but he didn't make it. Variks, too. His body sort of... reanimated, and then the dream broke down."

As with everything the green-eyes get involved in, it almost feels like it was well-intentioned up until that point. What happened after, with his various disassembled body parts attacking them and trying to merge with them, was likely less based on reality, he figures, and more to do with how those spirits always end up inflicting pain and suffering on them as if they enjoy it, or perhaps it's just their nature.

"Eventually - I think it was Hope, actually, who woke up first and started trying to fight back." Which is one hell of a rough introduction to how things go here, poor girl, but she's got a lot of courage and he's glad they had her along.

[worthallthis]

Or perhaps it's all they know. Soldat doesn't trust or like them, can't condone their controlling others and causing pain... but sometimes they wonder if they could have turned out like the green-eyes, without love and support and good examples to model their behavior off of. Feral, confused and confusing, violent.

"Hope. New girl. I'll bring her something next." Tell her thanks, maybe, for fighting and protecting people, even when it had to be hard. "No one made it. Except Weaver. I went down where the third group went. It's a mess there, too. Should get a full headcount and I'll see if I can match to the bodies we've all seen."

[callada]

"Right. We should probably recover whoever we can. Give them some kind of memorial. Ought to work with Weaver on that, so we can come up with something appropriate."

Where there aren't bodies, there are still personal belongings. Rosinante hasn't managed to find Petra among the dead, but he found her locker in the research room. And there's still...

"The portal room, too, once we're in there - it sounds like a lot of them were in there when the thing came through."

[worthallthis]

"Maybe some. Yeah." Soldat has a mental image of their own about more spirits wearing the dead, like the one in the power room. They shake it off with a calibration loop through the arm, for once obvious in the tac vest rather than buried under a couple layers of sleeve. "We can tackle that problem with enough time after to do some clean-up before the submarines are ready. Just need more intel from Weaver and. To decide."

They're going to talk like whatever they do will succeed, because there's really no point in thinking otherwise. If they don't succeed, no one left on this world will last long, and clean-up won't matter.

ii.

[countershocks]

The lettuce sandwich is the kind of ridiculous consideration he's not used to from near-complete strangers, but he takes it nonetheless with a grateful nod. That's about all he's good for in the next six-to-eight hours — managing to eat one lettuce sandwich and then just sitting slumped on the floor because prolonged exposure to water really isn't good for devil fruit users.

Eventually, though, when he's feeling at least somewhat like moving, he makes it over to where Soldat currently is.

"Thanks for the food," he says, because generally not being a nice person doesn't mean he can't be, when there's reason for it. "I wouldn't have thought you to be the one responsible for all the food around here." Being a former assassin, and all. But then... Blackleg-ya was from that kind of a background, too, and also the best cook he knew.

[worthallthis]

"It's soothing," Soldat answers readily enough. Law managed to find him in the kitchen again, though the stew is just simmering low and Soldat is at one of the tables slowly and carefully folding paper. "Defined steps to a positive outcome. Plus I like feeding people." It's a lot better than killing them. "Didn't actually know how until I died and came here. People have been teaching me."

[countershocks]

"Not a bad thing to learn." You know, in general, but also for something to do. At least it must be as far from being an assassin as can be, and he's getting an idea that Soldat didn't really like his job before.

"Did your group get everything done without trouble? Seems like you got the power, at least," he says wryly. And of course he's here for information too... he's not really the type to just talk to anyone for the hell of it.

[worthallthis]

Soldat pauses in their origami to see-saw a hand in a "kind of" gesture-- the metal hand, because why not. "There were these little spirits. Shapeshifters. Pretended to be things they weren't. Had some close calls. Also a bigger spirit that was. Wearing the corpses of the other people who lived here. Talked to that one, got them to help us. Or not hurt us, anyway." Frankly, in the end, the body-wearer hadn't helped much beyond pointing them in the right direction.

[countershocks]

"Wearing corpses?" Huh. Well, that's new. Instead of horrified, Law just sounds mildly curious.

"Good job. Seems like you had better luck than us."

What with the whole "getting stuck in a hallucination and almost drowning" thing. And then getting hurt by the green eyes. Fun times.

[worthallthis]

The smell was probably the worst part, to be honest. "Talking is surprisingly useful," Soldat agrees. "Rosinante told me what happened. That the green-eyes got you." They make a little bit of a face, and go back to folding. "We should have looked for you sooner. Gotten you out."

[countershocks]

"You had your own thing to do, we had ours. All of us made it out."

Which is really what matters. Sure, Cora-san got stabbed and Law is still somewhat pissed about that... but at least it was hardly life-threatening.

And now he knows first-hand what the green eyes are capable of. That is important information, too, little though he'd liked actually getting it.

[worthallthis]

"That's very good." And very lucky, to be honest. Soldat still feels kind of bad about it. They set a little folded frog down on the countertop, and flip its tail so that it hops. That's always satisfying. Even if their voice is grim when they say, "He also said the green-eyes showed you the past. What happened here. To them, the green-eyes themselves."

ii

[policier]

Javert returns from the crew quarters smelling of smoke and decay, his clothing immaculate and with nary a scratch on him. He's quite restless in the time it takes for them to come to a decision, pacing the halls, and inspecting the crew quarters in case he may have missed something, which is unlikely. He eats and drinks, and he puts up a little bit of a fuss about it, but even dogged inspectors such him need to rest sometime.

He's seated nearby, his notebook open on his lap, and his eyes threatening to close for lack of sleep. Just as he feels himself drifting away, he's startled awake by the sound of Soldat's nightmares, his movement jerky and sudden. Javert can still see the reanimated corpse in his mind's eye, dead one minute and awake the next, and so when he hears the other man startle so suddenly, the first thought he has is that they are in danger. His hand moves for his pistol before he can think of it, pointing it at the dark space ahead of them, ready to fire.

"Soldat?" He sounds concerned.

tw panic attack, sorry Javert :(

[worthallthis]

While literally, physically flailing out of dark dreams of electricity and cryofreeze, hearing that word elicits a blank, Russian, "Ready to comply," before Soldat remembers where they are and that "Soldat" isn't just what the Russians called them, it's a name they've chosen and adapted to.

So the first visceral reaction is to shudder all over, jackknife back up against the nearest wall, and dry-heave for a moment in reaction to memories of-- of Words. The Words. Someone would say them, the Handler would say them, and then-- and then-- (Ready to comply. No. Nonononononono--) "--no no no no no--" It comes out in English this time, a thin whine of protest, wheezed through clenched teeth, and they wrap both arms around their head protectively.

[policier]

The danger is forgotten nearly as quickly as he reacts, pulling himself to his feet and rushing to Soldat's side. He hadn't considered that the other man's choice of name would cause such a reaction, but he feels guilty for it all the same. Much as he wants to reach out and touch him, to grip his shoulder, he thinks better of it. He lingers at the edge of his vision instead, his pistol in his hand, but hanging loose at his side, harmless.

"I'm sorry." How should he address him? He cannot use his name, nor his real one. How else can he let the man know that he means him no harm, and that he is safe? He murmurs, "Mon ami, I thought the creatures were attempting to harm you."

[worthallthis]

French. No handlers ever really used French. Russian, or English, or German. French is. French is a maniac with explosives and a cheerful disposition. French is cher around the house. French is quiet thanks for a gift and promises to stay. French is not-a-handler. Not anymore.

Gasping for breath as they try to shake off the clenching terror in their chest, Soldat pants out, also in French because French is safe, "Not you. Not your. Your fault. Dreams. Memories."

(That's a problem, pal. Still a shit-load of baggage with that name. Shut up. Shut up! Like there isn't attached to any name! Ready to comply. You're not helping!)

[policier]

He continues, still a concerned and hushed tone, "Should I fetch you a slip of paper?"

Perhaps that will help calm him down. Without a word, Javert turns to collect his discarded notebook, the one he carries with him in his greatcoat wherever he goes, and the flips through it to an empty page. Tearing it out, he hands it to him, murmuring words of encouragement and reminding him to breathe as he does so.

[worthallthis]

Javert you are the best not-handler. Soldat takes the paper with trembling flesh fingers, the metal ones still dug into their scalp, and set it on the cold floor, flattening it out slowly and carefully. Even that helps, it's a familiar motion, preparation for something soothing.

After two one-handed folds, the metal hand comes down to make the third, and their breathing is nearly back to baseline. "Thank you. That. Sorry. It. Was a title. Almost a trigger. Before it was a name. Whoever said it was registered as handler. Rote response was 'ready to comply'."

[policier]

"I didn't know." He still feels terribly for having scared him. How strange it is that he would feel such a way, after having for so long delighted in terrifying vagabonds and criminals. He touches the other man's shoulder briefly, before settling back on the floor nearby.

"Do you have these nightmares often?" They haven't spent much time together on the station, so Javert doesn't know much it discomforts him.

[worthallthis]

"I didn't even know," Soldat assures him. "Didn't remember until. Now. This. Great time to remember." This is so dry as to be clearly sarcastic.

They keep folding, making one of the flowers they learned specifically to have something to teach Javert that they thought he might like. "Yes. Two or three a week. Sometimes it's a real memory. Sometimes it's just impressions from them. Sometimes it's things I was afraid might happen." The one where they punch through the pleading faces of their friends is a particularly shitty one. "This place makes it worse."