( 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

1/2

[angel_of_death]

Though Walter had been about to call out to her, Seras' cry of alarm is more than enough to momentarily stifle any inclination he has towards small talk. He immediately heeds the her warning, his arm coming up instinctively to guard as his fingers flex, the whisper of metal wires flickering into existence just as the grating punches out from the vent followed by the grotesque, ghoul-like monster behind it.

It happens quickly, but to someone like him and someone like Seras, it might as well be slow motion; the wires bypass the grating, the trajectory of which will lead it to miss Walter's head, and go straight for the intended enemy. They arch around its front and flank either of its sides, one line circling its neck-- and like a leash, snagging it and ripping it away from the trajectory that would lead it to collide with the butler beneath it. The immediate instant thereafter, all the wires close in, the filaments turning razor-sharp as they slice into the flesh of the now falling creature.