( open ) our ag wing's back and you're gonna be in trouble (hey now! hey now! our ag wing's back)

[initiates]

Date & Time: October 31st, 3313, 11:59PM - November 3rd, 3313, ????
Location: Agriculture Wing, Moon Base to start. Cafeteria, warehouse, docking bay, VR rooms, Transport Pad, or Observatory later on.
Characters: Any & all!
Summary: Space Zombies are allowed out of the Agriculture Wing, slowly revving up their systems to try and infect and absorb as many of the Transports (or 12 Initiative Members) as possible.
Warnings: Log will be locked for potentially graphic violence. Please warn in threads should the violence or gore become graphic.
Notes: Specify a date and location in your top comment. You may specify multiple dates/locations. Specify a time if you wish as well.

Everything is a success at first, from the cool rush of air out of the Agriculture Wing once the doors are fully unlocked, to the heady sense of accomplishment for finally moving forward on something good for the long-term usability of the Moon Base. It's intended to remain a resource, after all, but not be a permanent home. Fraying tempers and the sense of cabin fever descending on Transports continues to showcase how important it is to get back down on Earth to regain some breathing room.

There's little enough dust between all the unmoving, unlit structures, many even supporting the barest dried husks of what once grew there. Upon the lightest touch, they disintegrate, turning into a dust that falls to the ground. The silent rows will be reclaimed and turned into functioning units, based on Transport efforts, and Transport time invested in the project.

There's just one problem. Something stirs in the reclaimed wing, among tangles of hosing and wiring. Skitterings and movements that make no sense for a long abandoned Moon Base. The further in Transports go, relying on magic or technology to generate light past the bare minimum maintained by the base, the more disturbing sights they may run into.

Of course, the most disturbing of all might be lying just around the far corner -- but don't worry, it's only a flesh wound. Try not to get surprised in the machinery, caught suffering from not looking up or caught making out with anything unsavory this holiday season, Transports. We need all of you to stay alive!

We can't bring you back right now!

Comments

cw: violence and gore, this thread may get graphic, folks

[onehundredswords]

[Oh good, someone a little more enthusiastic about all this than he is. Once he has a feel for how strong and fast the undead are, it isn't too much trouble for Gin to fight them. As dark as it is, it's possible to see him draw his blade and move towards some undead, only to move at such speeds he vanishes and appears on the other side of his target and sheath his weapon, causing those caught in his attack to burst into shredded masses of flesh and mutilated limbs. He doesn't draw it out because he isn't one to fight for fun, but although he's efficient and fast about it, he's rather messy too.]

At least you're enjoyin' yourself, Red.

cw: great friends, is what you mean

[inhumanity]

[Christopher barely turns to remove an arm before turning his attention back on Gin. It's impressive. Inhumanly so, Christopher thinks, but then there is Vino. Sometimes, he wonders.

Even so, Christopher smiles. The air of violence seems to ebb a little, or fade back into the cloak of benign whimsy that Christopher usually wears]

There's nothing enjoyable than an evening out with friends. Or is a day? Mother Nature, my circadian rhythm has become a-harmonious. When we reunite, will we be able to sing? Oh, another one. [And without missing a beat, he tosses his umbrella tip first at one of them. The weapon drives through creature and wall to pin it in place, but that makes it boring so Christopher stops paying attention. Back to Gin.] You should try singing. It makes everything more fun.

yes cw: ultimate friendship, also sorry this is so late! my computer died

[onehundredswords]

I'm afraid I ain't really one for singin', Red. Not my sorta thing...

[Still, he smiles at that. Not the everyday smile that masks his emotion, but a genuine moment of amusement - Christopher is just such a strange guy that Gin's constantly amused by him.

He drives his sword into the chest of a nearby undead, then shoves the weapon forwards and pins two or three more on the lengthy blade which has definitely extended beyond it's original length. Muttering something under his breath, a spark runs through the hilt of his weapon from his hands to the steel of the blade, igniting the three corpses, which he shakes off and leaves them to burn.]

It's all just really too troublesome to put up with, this.

no problemo!

[inhumanity]

But a song is expression of your heart! It expresses your soul! You can say from that it expresses your entire universe! Ah, what tragedy: I'm moved at having learned a friend of mine is without a universe! [Christopher slides under a zombie's attack over to his umbrella. He draws it free from the wall, opens it up to shake off the zombie (it freezes the skin it touches), and then swiftly dismembers his opponent with a spare knife.

He glances at Gin, almost looking amused.] You know, though. I don't see any reason you're bothering, if you aren't having fun.

[Because obviously, personal whim is all that really matters, right?]

[onehundredswords]

That's a question, huh? I ain't enjoyin' myself, don't got much of a reason to defend myself...so why am I doin' this, huh?

[He gives his weapon a little flick, some droplets of blood trailing off of the steel and onto the floor. Standing there surrounded by corpses, some bloodstains on his body...he isn't much for fighting, really.

But at the same time, there is something about battle he does like, despite all of that. Deep down he's a good person, but the years of mentally training himself to be not so good a person definitely effected him. A part of him is as bad as people would expect him to be now, so deeply ingrained within his mind after more than a hundred years since his childhood it's hard to shake, even now that he doesn't have to fight.

He just laughs and pulls a wider grin, slightly darker than his usual smile.]

I guess...it's just in my nature!

[inhumanity]

Is it? [Though Christopher's voice is softer, it still carries across to Gin. Softly, softly, the bloodstained monster chuckles to himself.] Ah, truly . . . I envy you for that.

[And then he moves. Christopher hops up over to balance on the leg of a knocked-over table. He draws out a handful of knives and throws them: each embeds itself in the limb of a zombie, not severing it, but wedging into joints with a surgeon's precision. When Christopher swings his umbrella, it strikes the hilt of each knife along its way, and the force pops a the bones and finishes the job of severing the limbs from the beasts.

Christopher sighs in a joy for violence, and he smiles at his twisted, so-called friend.]

You must really be blessed by God to live such natural ways!

[onehundredswords]

Blessed, huh?

[That's the last thing he expected. From a purely logical standpoint, he knows he's a pretty awful person for being the way he is, and that he should try and change.

From an emotional one, he just can't bring himself to care enough to do so.]

And what about you?

[inhumanity]

Me? [Covered in blood, unnatural in form, Christopher shrugs his shoulders.] God has nothing to do with something like me.

[He shakes his knives to clean off the blood, and they disappear up into his sleeves. Christopher looks at Gin.] Shall we be on our way?

[onehundredswords]

["As if that wasn't obvious" he thinks, considering everything about Christopher just seems really unnatural, he'd be surprised if he answered that any other way.

He mimics Christopher in shaking off the excess blood from the blade of his sword, sheathing it.]

After you, pal.