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open log » ❝ The VR Program ❞

Date & Time: August 5th, mid morning.
Location: Anywhere characters happen to be/the VR.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: From August 5th to August 8th, characters are plunged involuntarily into the VR Program.
Warnings: Potential violence within the threads.

When the chance arises, she's quick to take it. The programming is incomplete, she knows; the simulation isn't ready — but she's not likely to get another shot at it. And so she moves, slipping through security codes to input the command. The machines hum to life with nothing but a flicker of a green light in a dark room, and it takes only seconds to establish connections. The signal is sent out; the weapons respond.

In a single pulse, reality drops away.

There will be darkness at first as the mind realigns itself to the signals being sent it. Slowly, the darkness fades, forms take shape. People take shape. The setting is terribly familiar, plucked from the user's own mind. It might feel like a dream at first, with events playing out as if predestined, the would-be dreamer moving through a familiar and unalterable route in them. But as things begin to feel more and more realistic, as more senses more fully connect to the simulation, awareness will change. This is not a dream. This is more than a memory.

Welcome to the VR.

Only 20 minutes later, in some underground quarters, Doctor Sponde is roused from an undignified sprawl. He's hastily briefed and shuttled toward the command center, looking grim. He knows the problem demands an immediate fix, but… well, this is some complex machinery. It could take some time. It could take days. He gets to work.

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"Sorry we're late."

Tali oozes confidence as she strolls into the hearing room beside Shepard and Garrus – head held high, shoulders straight, perfect posture – but inside, she's trembling like a frightened little girl. Even though she's lived through this already, even though she knows perfectly well how this will end, reliving this trial is a nightmare. Being accused of treason, facing the possibility of exile, recovering from her father's death and the deeds he did beforehand... simply put, it scares the hell out of her.

She watches Shepard plead her case, thanking her ancestors and every deity she can think of that her enviro-suit provides her with the perfect poker face. No one can see her biting her lip or blinking back tears; it's a miracle she's able to keep her knees from knocking together. The only thing that gives her away is the sound of her voice when she calls after the commander when she steps forward.

"Shepard, please–"

"Does Captain Shepard have any new evidence to submit to this hearing?" her Auntie Raan asks, gently cutting her off.

The relief that washes over her when Shepard avoids presenting the evidence that they'd found on the Alarei is familiar, but just as sweet as it was the first time. No one would know of her father's crimes. And of course Shepard would be able to convince the board of her innocence without that particluar evidence. Commander Shepard always found a way.

"Tali'Zorah saved the Citadel! She saved the Alarei! She showed the galaxy the value of the quarian people," Alice Shepard declares in a booming voice that demands the respect of the people around her. "I can't think of stronger evidence than that."

No, no one would dare argue with her now.

"Are the admirals prepared to render judgment?"

The crowd murmurs quietly, buzzing with interest as the admirals light up their omni-tools. It seems to take years for each of them to submit their decisions.

"Tali'Zorah," Shala'Raan begins. The silence that follows is deafening and unfamiliar to Tali. This isn't how the trial ended.

Her hands shake a little.

Shepard, Garrus, and every single quarian in attendance all draw their guns.

"Prepare to die!"

Tali just barely manages to duck into cover before they all begin to shoot.

Haymitch isn't one to be picky about his allies, honestly. He's spent enough time schmoozing with people that he doesn't like that it's not strictly necessary for him to even remotely care who it is that's hauling him up as long as she isn't trying to tear out the rest of his organs. He grunts, but tries to make it a little easier for Darcy to drag him along.

"This isn't normal, even for the Games." He was also having a little less problem hauling himself up than he was expecting, so all around this place was strange.

"And -- even more honest than before." He knows they need to get moving because that hoarde is starting to catch up to them, but there's not really anywhere for them to go except along the edge of the cliff.

The garden, she has to admit, is a lovely sight as this new reality comes into place around her. But there is something there that feels wrong, an underlying quiver to the leaves and the flowers that makes her wary even as she walks among them.

It's strangely intoxicating. The garden beckons her to relax, to stop thinking. And she almost does without realizing it, much to her annoyance and fear. A demon of sloth did this to her and her companions a long time ago, trapping them in the Fade. She wouldn't fall to the same seduction again so willingly; she would fight this time, even in unfamiliar territory.

She hears a voice and follows it, finding its owner just as he draws a blade across Martin's stomach. Elissa staggers to a halt and then runs forward, heedless of what she might face. "Martin!" she shouts, reaching back to draw her blade from its scabbard on her back. It's only when she's mere feet away that she realizes who his enemy is and what he's doing.

Elissa raises her sword defensively between them, eyes on the younger Martin Septim and the blood magic he's performing.

"Games? Yeah, next time we're sticking with Monopoly. FPSers are not my bag."

Stumble over to the cliff they do anyway. Mostly because, really, where else is she going to take them? Unless Thor decides to thunder his way down it's not like up is a viable option on the list. Darcy lets out a whine from the back of her throat as she kicks a few rocks over the ledge in her eagerness to stop and not pull a Willie E. on this one.

"Please tell me there's an tap out feature on this one."

Fortunately for Alistair, Cailan so far remained unarmed -- which meant that it was easier for him to awkwardly wrestle with the King while he glanced over his shoulder to Elissa. She was showing both the ability to speak and the ability to not throw herself at him with malicious intent, so Alistair could only assume that she wasn't part of whatever it was that was going on here.

"If this is some sort of rage demon trial, I am going to become a sister of the Chantry for the rest of my life." Darkspawn he could handle, but this sort of thing? He had not signed up for it.

Kaidan doesn't turn to look at the bodies they just put down, but they're still at the forefront of his mind. "Yeah, I don't blame you." So too is the memory he just relieved, made even worse by the sight of Rahna turning on him. He sits on them both, focussing on the issue at hand.

"Just like old times," he agrees dryly, before firing off biotics at the Saren husk. He doesn't mention the fact that last time they had a giant krogan with them as well.

[ Oh.

Who's that screaming in her head? ]

< Dodge! Dodge! >

[ Taking her own advice, Collette backwings away from a pigeon attacker and comes in for a landing. ]

< Who are you? Get higher than they are, or get down and take cover! >

She set herself back-to-back with him, not touching, but guarding his unguarded flank as she had done so many times before. Elissa shot him a look from over her shoulder, resisting the urge to awkwardly smile. "Skirts don't suit you, Alistair," she quipped briefly. "I don't think this is a rage demon dream. If it was, it would be much easier, I suspect. We would only have to kill one foe." And not the people who looked so much like her friends.

Zevran had regained himself and lunged at her, slower than she thought him possible. It gave her the time to meet him halfway, clash blades with him, and twist herself so she could draw him away from Alistair.

"Stop, Zevran. Please," she pleaded, hoping against hope that he'd go back to normal to assist them. Instead, he swiped her legs out from under her. She fell into the snow and was able to pull her blades up in enough time to stop him from stabbing her through. She kicked him back.

As her vision cleared, Anora recognized this place. There was no mistaking the Ferelden throne room, and there was no mistaking a certain man standing a few feet away from where Anora had entered.

Maric Theirin, alive, and looking...not quite like himself. Well, he did look like himself, but what she saw of his expression was not quite how she remembered it as a child, and as far as she could remember, she never once saw Maric strike a woman. She thought twice about approaching, wondering how to escape what she was beginning to realize was a memory, when she heard the sound of a baby crying and saw an unfamiliar man about ready to stab the swaddle of an infant in his arms.

She felt herself grow hot, ears turning red with shock at the imagery, and despite what would be in her better interest to run, she instead hurriedly made her way forward, directing a commanding voice towards Duncan. The woman was an adult and not of her concern, and though the child may be just as much an apparition as the man holding it, there was still something...sickening about the mere implication.

"Stop. Put the child down." Oh how she wished she had a sword. She should have taken another weapon when given the choice, one that would be of use.

Haymitch laughs, as dry and bitter as someone who's had to participate in and then observe the Games for a few decades has a right to be.

"Tap out? Oh, no -- you're in this one until the end. Literally, really -- although I've never seen this crowd together before." He pulls a slim knife from his boot and palms it, still clutching his organs.

"Might want to start throwing those rocks instead of kicking them. Just a thought." He's still dizzy, but he doesn't feel as much as if he'll collapse. Maybe it's because he's older ~~or maybe it's because it wouldn't be much fun to thread with Haymitch after he's passed out on the ground from blood loss~~.

If Martin was anything, he was a very single-minded kind of creature. He had trouble splitting his attention between things, especially when many things required an almost even amount of care. And between the stranger-turned-acquaintance-turned...something (friend? Martin's still not sure he can even have one of those) and the visage of his own flesh and blood, well...

It wasn't much of a contest.

As Regina moved and writhed to free herself, Martin's heels dug in, dragging into the gravel as his weight proved to be little to keep either of them in place.

"Please," he was begging, over and over. "Please, Gina. Gina, I want to leave. It's fine if we just go, go home, please. Please!"

His voice shrilled as he was finally wrenched free, shoved aside to give the girl the means to attack her target.

"GINA—!"

~~Aw, she'd sit on you lovingly, drunkie~~ Rocks. Okay. Sure. She starts gathering them up, deciding tasers and zombies probably end up with more of a soothing massage-like effect instead of being a good weapon. Thank goodness for high school softball, because the first throw actually manages to hit. Not doing much, but hey. It's the thought that counts?

"Together? You mean the undead hoards are friends of yours?"

"You're right -- whatever this place is is really taking the challenge out of things." Alistair lets out his own string of cliche phrases, one of which is 'Is that death you're wearing? It really suits you!' because clearly the way to wound the enemy is to make confusing references to fashion.

Because he's clearly made himself a little too cocky, Cailan makes a lunging grab for Alistair that ends with him having to press his back up against Elissa's. Now's not the time for embarrassment, and fortunately Alistair can sort that much out in his mind.

"And you! Stop using your -- your logic on me. What do you suppose this is, then?"

"That's not Wynne!" Nathaniel growls, trying to reassure his friend. He grabs a sword from the corpse of a genlock and darts towards the wizened mage. She's barely back on her feet when Nathaniel runs her through, a grimace twisting his features. He feels a moment's pity as the frail woman slips to the ground, and he has to remind himself that this is not real.

Katniss lets out a wordless cry as she feels someone gripping her arm, and in that moment Darcy is extremely lucky that the girl needs both hands to put an arrow to her string.

The fact that she has her bow now is strange in and of itself. She's meant to be incognito.

"What are you doing here?" Gale shoots again as Katniss tries to figure out what the hell is going on and fails miserably. The only thing stopping them from getting hit right now is the gaping hole in the ground. She doesn't want to think too hard about what's at the bottom.

Darcy freaks out about the bullets as Katniss tries desperately to think. She grabs a hold of the woman's shoulders and forces her to look at her. "Believe me when I say that getting shot right now would be the most pleasant way to go out of our options."

"Sure, we can go with that." Friends, people that you failed to keep alive and were murdered by other children -- it's all the same in the end, isn't it?

He coughs hard for a few seconds before he picks up a rock of his own and chucks it at the nearest person's head, taking a chunk out of the boy's skull. Charming.

"I don't like these options! I choose new options."

Attempts at sarcasm might not be the biggest crowd pleaser when it came to coping mechanisms, but Darcy worked with what she knew. Being manhandled was fine, she was very pro being manhandled by someone who knew what the fuck was going on here. Kantniss could shove her into the gaping hole and she'd roll with it just about now.

"There's gotta be an exit strategy."

Shepard hisses at the shot, dropping back behind her cover and motioning for Bariyan to join her before his head is taken off. Carefully, she touches her shoulder. It's bleeding a little, and there's a sigh and a slight smile sent her friend's way at the cursing. "No big deal. Believe me when I say I've had worse wounds than this." There's a short pause before she glances back towards Kaidan's position. "Wait until he unleashes his biotics."

Even if Bariyan doesn't know what they are exactly, it's clear by the tone of her voice that it wouldn't be good.

"Now we..." The commander falters, listening to Wrex's heavy breathing as he gets back up. Stupid fucking krogan anatomy. She doesn't know what to do. These are her friends, her companions. And Kaidan is...

Well he's the guy that rejected the hell out of her recently, but he's still her friend.

"Wait, wait. How the hell did you even get here?"

How does one person cross into another person's memories?

If Collette had anything to say about it, there would be a crash of feathers through a window as an eagle rocketed into a room shouting, < Incoming! >

Aiming her Valkyrie, Shepard takes a shot and misses right at the thing jumps. She mutters a string of curses under her breath as she continues to fire. It's too fast, and she is entirely grateful at the moment that any of the reaper forces now are of a slower variety.

Less jumpy, too. It makes them easier targets, but of course, Saren could never make things easier for any of them.

"That's because it is old times, Major. Except for the part where we just killed Wrex and... you."

Weird.

"Oh my god."

Darcy was apparently torn between a shriek and an inability to actually form words with that one, evening out somewhere around a high-pitched, strangled whisper. It didn't stop her throwing, too, of course- she'd played enough Left For Dead to know you never stopped hitting A- but this was not doing wonders for her mental health.

"Please, oh please let a shrink be the next recruit to satan's army when we're out."

She moves around the curve of a blade and suddenly finds her back to Alistair's. She nearly jumps in surprise, looking back at him briefly before her gaze goes back to Zevran's. "Oh, yes, logic," she says smartly, a smile on her lips. There's nothing logical about it. Not even she could dream up the king's corpse as an enemy.

Elissa parries a strike and steps back and into her friend. "Whatever it is, I want it to stop." And soon, before they stumble into something worse, like Duncan. That would just be the icing on the cake.

"If nothing else, we can run," she offers, though she's reluctant to resort to that option.

Was that a fabulous ambush? Collette stuck herself out of the way, watching Barnaby and this Jake -- what was with that? Why the name Jake, huh? -- pull out moves better suited for comic books and science fiction films.

Whatever it was, she didn't have the big guns to back Barnaby up. Right? She glanced down to her hand, and the watch clutched in it. What exactly did her weapon do?

She looked back up. Keep perfect time, I guess. With a grin, she clicked down to start timing. Barnaby would have this Jake character down flat in no time.

Weird how everything seemed to slow down for a second...

"You don't have a choice." Katniss shakes her a little. None of this makes any sense, but she's so use to her life not making sense any more that she just sort of goes with it. As much as Katniss can go with anything, at least. "Listen, if you want to get out of this alive, you have to do as I say. Nothing about you can be unusual, okay? We're going to blend in with this crowd, and get to--"

Snow. The City Circle. The bombs - Katniss looks at her hands on Darcy's shoulders, burn-scarred mutt skin, and remembers.

"Prim," she whispers, and that's when the Capitol citizen who had been crying nearby leaps at them.

"You're going down!"

The adjustment to the dim cellar light came slowly at first. There was an odd silence and then a struggle that Fiona could make out while the world still appeared as a distant blur. Then with a step back and the high pitch crunch of glass beneath her boot things became much clearer.

She recognized the woman that was about to be attacked, and worse she recognized the human attacker. Without a second thought she lifted her staff and sent a gust of ice and snow toward the two attackers, freezing them before they could make contact. And then she turned to Anora and the boy behind her and began casting again.

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Page 12 of 44

open log » ❝ The VR Program ❞

the trial of tali'zorah vas normandy

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fly like an eagle rin baby

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please don't hate me too much

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Darned kids.