( 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

[one of those everywheres]

[phaseshifts]

[Clap. Clap. The sound of hands smacking together approvingly, ringing out in a brief lull in the combat. Turn to see who's doing that, and it's this one, tall, strong shoulders, wavy hair swept back out of his face for the fighting, head tilted to appraise, eyes bright with interest, expression without a fleck of fear. So much of arrogance here, albeit not unwarranted.]

My, my. You're a busy bee!

[inhumanity]

[Appearance is interesting but stance is more so. Christopher knows how to read that kind of confidence. He doesn't seem to react to it—instead, he stops in his flashy massacres to take a florid, excessive bow.]

How flattering. I can't think of any compliment higher than to be compared to one of Nature's most prodigious workers. To think that I might produce a comparable production to the sweet honey which has sweetness incomparable—stranger, comrade, friend, I accept your praise with pride and beg most sternly that you apologize to Nature for your slight.

[phaseshifts]

No slight! Bees only wish they drew as much blood as this. [He's laughing and ambling in, approaching on Christopher's left and turning it into a circle, or the beginning of such. Ever so harmless, he's just inspecting and letting his concentration fall on this interesting other soldier for the moment.]

[inhumanity]

[Christopher is far too familiar with animal roots not to feel in that prowl the circle of predator around prey, of one beast around another competing for territory. But he is too acquainted with his artificial side to give in to the instinct of what might be natural. Still relaxed in the concentrated bloodlust, he smiles, serene.]

Perhaps they're jealous. Or perhaps I should be. There are bees who can trap their enemies in their nests and vibrate to cook them to death. I personally would enjoy the opportunity to cook an enemy to death with all of my friends, but unfortunately we don't have a nest together.

[phaseshifts]

[He's not bursting into violence now! Not, because that stream of chatter interrupts him and then distracts him. For a moment, he's not sure how to react, and then his gut decides for him and he laughs, eyes squeezing up with delight. He found a strange one!]

That's such a shame, now that you mention it. Well, still, there are others waiting, aren't there? [He sweeps a hand in the direction of down the hall. The connotation: after you?]

[inhumanity]

[What a gentleman. Christopher grins, swings his unopened umbrella over his shoulder, and happily heads down the hall. (He is looking forward to killing monsters.)

As he goes, absently, absently, he starts humming a tune that came out just last year.]