( 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

[crossbearing]

It might sound that way.

( Living it was something different. Living it took everything from her and kept snatching things from her grasp. )

[totallytrustworthy]

[Thievery's much the same; she sympathizes, honestly. Wouldn't trade it for anything else, of course, but the dream of running odd jobs in Rio is much more enticing that the reality of it. ]

C'est la vie and all that, yeah? Nothing's half as charming as we'd like to believe.

Being on the moon, for example. Wasn't my dream, but I'm fairly certain it was someone else's, and that they'd prefer their life changing moments without a dose of genocide topped off with shambling undead horrors.

[crossbearing]

You're right there.

( Nothing like a bit of glass-half-empty to win Helena's heart.

Her expression sobers, brow furrowed behind her mask as she watches the hallway. There's nothing but reminders of all the ways this place is messed up, how they messed up, and that's the way it should be. It should hang over them. )

This place isn't exactly about personal agency. ( They don't even get to choose if they stick around. )

[totallytrustworthy]

Well it doesn't help that we get teleported about whether we sign up for it or not. Dirty work included.

[A beat, and Chloe drops her M-9 to one hand to stretch out the muscles of her left shoulder a bit where it's all knotted up from tension. ] If we survive this I swear to Christ I'm punching someone in the ass for it.

[crossbearing]

I've got a couple of spare hands if you need 'em.

( More punching for everyone.

There's a groan from further down the corridor, and Helena tenses, raising her crossbow. She figures there's no need for a heads up - Chloe seems alert enough, even if she doesn't know about her shooting just yet. )

Promise not to shoot me if I go take care of business?

[totallytrustworthy]

[Willing to handle it on her own? Definitely a hero.

Chloe scoffs-- tempting as it is to let that play out, she has been making an effort to...you know, maintain less self-serving practices as of late-- shoulders her rifle, and nods off towards that distant sound.] So long as I don't take a bolt from you when I go to back you up.

i should probably put a heads up for gore and violence here

[crossbearing]

( Tell that to Batman, lady. )

I do need to save my bolts. ( Flippant, so flippant, as she's collapsing the crossbow, hooking it to the strap at her thigh and drawing two knives, instead. )There's three of them.

( That's her guess, and it's a quiet warning before she moves. Hopefully, Chloe will give her some cover for the back two, but she's used to working on her own. Other people having her back is a rare and new phenomena, but her thoughts aren't on that: they're on her knife slicing through decomposing flesh at the abdomen, moving fast and vicious, stamping on one of its hand as her opposite foot crushes the thing's skull, both knives at the ready for the next. )

avert thine eyes tiny children

[totallytrustworthy]

[Pretty sure she's seen him on a pair of pyjama pants at least once, whoever he is.

And it's impressive, really, the way Helena goes about turning the mostly intact undead monstrosity into a (more)repulsive heap of flesh and gore. Gives Chloe time to size up Helena's abilities before she bothers narrowing her focus, calling out a clipped, hasty 'on your left' that comes as more of a warning of the burst of fire that follows rather than a call to be on her guard for something she's likely already aware of. The bullets find their mark-- send the tattered, lifeless husk crumbling to the floor to rest near its former partner in crime.]

if only someone had told helena that, she would have been spared so much trauma

[crossbearing]

( God, they're fast. To her credit, so is Helena, and she doesn't flinch away from the bullets sprayed past her.

She likes the adrenaline. Part of her relishes the violence, and maybe there's even part of her that's grateful that there are monsters, things she can tear apart with her bare hands. Or, gloved hands, more accurately.

Another groan down the hall, and she's pulling one of the flares she grabbed out of her fire aid kit from her utility, twisting to duck claw lashing out at her, setting it up in a smooth motion before she drives it up into the rotten skin just below the things ribcage. ) Shut your eyes!

( A warning, as she sets the flare off, takes out the necromorph as the heat and force break it and the one approaching the sounds of struggle apart.

It's a victory for everything except her uniform. Splatter is never pretty. )

cry cry

[totallytrustworthy]

[Not the first time Chloe's dealt with flashbang equipment, (and it likely won't be the last) but the warning's taken without hesitation until the bright red glow at the backs of her eyelids starts to fade off and dim.

Popping one eye open for a double check means she catches sight of Helena looking-- well, you know. A great deal more decorated.] Nicely done.