( 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

[maddeninghatter]

[ He actually was in the act of sweeping up a largish dollop of pie (with only a tiny bit of zombie goo) when he's startled by Gilbert's screeching... ]

Gilbert? You —

[ ...and then Kevin grabs him and shoves him behind the counter. The smell of delicious pie is almost, but not quite powerful enough to overwhelm the smell of dead(er) zombie. He inhales... ]

You and Mister Cecil, both of you!

[ ...and affects a great pout. ]

You made pie without telling meee~!

[retraced]

[Meanwhile, Gilbert has grabbed another of those delicious smelling pies and is preparing his throwing arm.

He just has to pause a moment to GLARE AT BREAK (even though he can't see it that's not the point.)]

There are more important things to be worried about right now! What are those things?!

[He'll wait for the answer before lobbing it across the room.]

[senseandcecilbility]

[He will just...kneel behind the counter and rub Break's face and hair with a wet napkin. Ears too. He cannot risk the stupid man succumbing to temptation and eating the infected pie. The horror, the horror. ]

[maddeninghatter]

Why should I tell you that?

[ He's having a moment. A petulant, affronted, and betrayed sort of moment. ]

You're not telling me anything, and —

[ He twists and pulls away from Kevin's ministrations, batting with his hands and pulling a face and whining. ]

Stoo~ooop~!

[retraced]

[He tosses the pie with all his strength. The tin spins through the air and strikes one of the zombies right in the head. It stuns him at best, definitely doesn't knock him down. Okay, they might need more than pie after all.

Gil kneels back down behind the counter and turns to his companions.]

Because you probably know more than we--

[But what he sees shuts him up fast. Kevin you really are even more motherly than him. He's shocked.]

[senseandcecilbility]

[Kevin knows what his priorities are during a zombie attack. There is no reason to behave in such an uncivilized manner, after all. He holds Break's hands gently but firmly. No batting the angel, young man.]

The pies were a surprise, sir. Now, be nice and answer Mister Gilbert's question.

[maddeninghatter]

[ ...




Of course they were a surprise. Gilbert wouldn't be making pie for himself. And Kevin.... urgh! He wrests his hands free. ]

People are calling them "zombies," whatever that means. They were in the agricultural wing.

[retraced]

[The agricultural wing? The area that was supposedly closed off and had only just been able to be opened back up? So then...]

Th-they've been alive in there all this time?!

[senseandcecilbility]

[Their fresh ingredients. Ruined by the undead! Is nothing sacred?

This angel...is not pleased.]

See? That was not too difficult. Now would you kindly tell us how we exterminate them?

1/3

[maddeninghatter]

Well, no. I wouldn't say alive....

[ It's spoken as horribly as possible, accompanied by wiggly fingers of doom. ]

[maddeninghatter]

[ ....Kevin.

It occurs to him just then that Gilbert and Kevin teaming up is the best thing in the world, except it's actually the worst. There might be a lot of pies, but there seems to be even more judging going on. ]

I've been chopping them into tiny pieces, obviously. But you might as well do that div —

[ Divine retribution thing, he was going to say. But it's the moment that the words start to leave his lips that he recalls how upset Kevin was after he had, you know, blown lots of things (and people) to bits, and.... ]

[maddeninghatter]

[ Urgh, he owes you one, you judging, pie-making angel. He'll keep your secret. Clearly a bit of misdirection is in order, because he chirps suddenly: ]

My what a lovely pie~!

[ And reaches for one, apparently heedless of how his slimy fingers are spoiling it. ]

[retraced]

[Nothing is sacred, Kevin. If the zombies get into the kitchen and the icebox and the pantry, then all of the fresh food that they've acquired through missions and rations could be destroyed in an instant! And if there's one thing that Gilbert can't stand, it's wasted food. Even throwing the pies now, for survival or not, is causing him heartbreak.

He misses whatever Break was just about to say in favor of taking hold of the counter and raising himself up to peek over it. There are two of them in the room now, and he doesn't even have a gun on him. Not that he would use it in the moon base and risk putting holes in the airlock, but it would at least make him feel a little less pathetic.

That pie is snatched away before Break can get his hands on it.]

Stop trying to eat it! We need to come up with a plan! How many are there in the rest of the building?!

[senseandcecilbility]

[Kevin, on the other hand, knows exactly what Break was about to say. He lets out a sigh of relief and, as a token of his gratitude, selects a completely uninfected slice of chocolate pie and sticks it into Break's mouth. He should at least know what he missed.

He pats Break's hand, smiling in spite of the situation.]

If chopping them into tiny pieces works, we might as well set them on fire. Perhaps they are not too different from a hornet infestation... And we have a stove, after all.

[maddeninghatter]

Pie is a plan. It's an excellent plan, and —

[ Whatever misgivings Break might have had about Kevin patting his hand are effectively silenced by the chocolate pie in his mouth. He gulps it down whole, something like a pelican with a particularly tasty fish. Licking his lips: ]

You want to cook the zombies? Hm, well — I suppose that's not too surprising, coming from a mere house-steward~!

[retraced]

[There's only one problem that Gilbert sees with this plan.]

But then - where are we supposed to bake after that...?

[#priorities]

[senseandcecilbility]

[M-mister Break is so mean.]

Can't we use a simple wood stove for proper baking?

[After all, technology only makes food taste weird.]

[maddeninghatter]

[ IS THERE AN ECHO?

Break resists the urge to facepalm, if only because his hands are still full of zombie entrails. Should have toweled those off, too, Kevin. ]

Somebody will just have to clean it up afterwards~♪

[ Two guesses who is "somebody." He stands up, suddenly, and waves at the gruesome creatures. ]

Hi hiiiii Mister Zombie, helloooo! Don't you want a bit of tasty manflesh, come and get it~!

1/2

[retraced]

[There's reasons, he knows. Something about the science behind the air supply, the same reasons why he can't smoke and issues with the oxygen and so on, things that the Victorian gentleman (or some variant thereof) can't understand. But he doesn't have a chance to attempt to explain this before Break takes it upon himself to ruin the kitchen as we know it.

Shit.]

B-Break! Not yet, we're--!

[Not ready, he tries to say, but the zombies have already caught wind of the men hiding behind the counter. Well. Nothing else to do except...........]

2/2

[retraced]

[.............turn around and preheat the fucking oven.]

[senseandcecilbility]

There is one thing you can say about Xerxes Break: he sure knows how to attract zombies.

Break's exuberance distracts Kevin from what Mister Gilbert was about to say. It seemed to be something rather important, but now his eyes are on the white-haired man waving at the zombies. What was that about cleaning the oven up? Oh well, Mister Gilbert's valuable guidance will have to wait until the undead are properly cooked.

He takes his shoes off and stands on top of the counter, strategically positioning himself to rescue either men if they get in further trouble. He prays neither will get bitten. Honestly, he would rather not stab anyone else today.]

[maddeninghatter]

[ He'd been exhausted when he'd taken cover under the counter. But the chocolate pie has given him the energy and fortitude to leap back into the fray and set about slashing the shambling hordes.

...which is only part of the job, as should be abundantly clear. A bisected zombie doesn't move quite as fast, but it still moves. Several of the torsos start dragging themselves towards the kitchen, spilling undead guts in a trail behind them. ]

Have you got that oven ready yet?

[retraced]

It takes a while!

[He groans under his breath as he turns to look back at how close these creatures have gotten. At least Kevin is being smart about all of this, he can't say the same thing for his entrail-covered boss. Once again he wishes he had his gun, but a kitchen knife is going to have to do the job for now. He grabs hold of one in one hand and puts the other on the oven handle.

The floor is going to take a while to clean, too. Nngh.]

[senseandcecilbility]

[Kevin has no guns and his sentient weapon can only heal. Instead of divine retribution, he favors the power of the heaviest frypan he can find. Fortunately, not one of his favorites.

Mister Gilbert might also notice that the oven has preheated much faster than usual. Hopefully, everybody is too busy to miss a little redirected sunlight.]

1/2

[maddeninghatter]

[ A few more slashes, some well-aimed kicks, and a bit of, well, herding (these zombies are nothing compared to feral sheep), and Break has the situation entirely under control. Which is to say, he's got Gilbert with his hands full and Kevin distracted, while he doubles back and... ]