exsiliumlogs | [OPEN] Standing on the cliff face, highest fall you'll ever grace

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[OPEN] Standing on the cliff face, highest fall you'll ever grace

Date & Time: various; post zombie madness
Location: Places
Characters: Chloe Frazer and YOU-- or at least we all hope it's you in there
Summary: last boarding call for the S.S. Disaster of the Century (viva la revolution)
Warnings: copious amounts of Robin Hooditis

A: Cafeteria

[She doesn't much care for the idea of borrowing anything when supplies are scarce. Doesn't like the thought that this is-- for the moment-- all they've got left. But plans are plans, and change is necessary, and nothing in this world (or any other for that matter) comes without a cost. If they mean to hole themselves up long enough for negotiations to leave them all in a better state than the one they're in right now, then spare packets of food and water are more necessity than nicety.

Still, doesn't make the pill go down any easier; Chloe spends more time hovering near the kitchens than what's appropriate for anyone that isn't Gordon Ramsay. Might be worth looking into, honestly.]

B: Corridors; farther away from housing

[And the damage isn't as noticeable as it ought to be, (years of abandonment means the base already looks a half step away from collapsing like a house of cards) but considering she'd rather not experience what it's like getting sucked out into the endless vacuum that is our known universe any time soon, Chloe's quick to lend a hand wherever it's needed amongst the more battle scarred sections of the station. Sure, she's exhausted-- looks the part, sporting a good layer of salt and dust that's been there since the start of the undead fiasco-- but the sooner they get the base back into (relatively) good shape, the sooner she'll feel secure enough to sleep like a proper human being.

If it takes hammering at a few panels for that to be a reality, count her in.]

C: Housing

[Supplies seen to for the moment, holes patched up and wiring duct taped together, Chloe's just about done. The past week hasn't been kind, the past year hasn't stopped digging in under her skin: she's spent. Walks like one of the staggering dead they'd just spent all they've got in them to kill off, on a mission to just get through that last bloody section of the station to hibernate so hard they'll have to hire a prince to wake her up.

So it's safe to say she's not really watching where she's going, arms full up with pilfered foodstuffs and scrap-- and it's also safe to say she won't appreciate any incoming distractions. Or collisions.]

---

[ooc: Use whatever format you like-- and if none of these prompts suit you, feel free to create one of your own! Chloe's out and about and prone to dozing off in a few inappropriate spots for impromptu naps; it's a terrible habit someone should do something about it.]

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Nah, this'll work. Shame there's no welding tools in here though. Would make this one hell of a lot easier on us both.

[She's digging through the bag when she says it, chin dipped down and one arm elbow-deep in canvas.] Done any mechanic work before?

Nope. Not at all. Need a guy punched, or someone to play you pretty much every Led Zeppelin song? I'm yer guy. But we ran outta zombies to punch, so I'm doin' this instead. What about you?

Oh sure. I'm a driver back home. [She fishes out a wrench that looks about as good as can be expected, gives it a quick once over.] Helps to know what you've got running beneath your ass on an up close and personal level.

Good. Then ya can tell me what the hell to do. Think of a space station as one huge fuckin' car. [He smirked slightly, but it fades quickly.] Man, I always felt like we were fightin' an uphill battle, but it's getting worse than ever, ain't it.

[Chloe moves in just a touch farther, sets to locating contact points on the wall that'll tolerate the addition of a few bolts. ] I'm not much for being caged in general, but for the past year I've watched them kill off more people than I could ever care to count.

Doesn't matter what side they're fighting for in this war: they're doing it wrong. And they're going to get us all killed while they're at it.

Y'got that right. If we can't keep ourselves alive up here, we're never gonna be able to fix all the shit that happened down in Exsilium. If somethin' else like this happens again, we're pretty fucked. And still, despite us bein' trapped in this thing and low on supplies? They still bring in more people. They bring in more Transports. [He lets out a sharp breath. He's really had it with the Initiative.]

Even if we did fix it-- [Chloe motions absently to the other end of the panel she's about to fuss with] lift that end so I can tighten this bolt-- once everything goes back, it'll erase all their mistakes anyway. No guilt, no accountability.

Can't nail someone for murder when the victims are all up and walking again.

[Johnny lifts the heavy panel one-handed.] Yeah. Even the Initiative won't remember it. But we will.

Won't mean a thing when they outnumber us again, though, will it? [She goes to work on the bolt a moment later, applying pressure and leverage to tighten it till it holds.] Thanks. [Moves on to the next with little ceremony.]

Yeah, they'll just be like "Okay that was nice, now get yer ass back in the transporter for the next missions that's gonna do fuckall against the UE." [He scoffs, and shakes his head.] I think I been here too damn long.

[And where he scoffs, she laughs, down into the metal plates in front of her.] Right? Bloody mess.

[A beat] Would you, though? If you had the chance to change things around here?

I'd do whatever I can to get us back in order and on the ground. I'm one of those folks who can't really go home. I'm stayin' here. So if this is home now, I want it to be as livable as possible. But this? [He gestures to the base.] This ain't home. This is a death trap.

[Truth be told, she'd rather be home. Running odd jobs for shit pay in places too gorgeous to describe, it's...well it probably shouldn't be considered a somewhat zen experience for her, but for Chloe Frazer, yeah. It absolutely is.

And she misses it. ] Mind if I ask why you can't go back?

I hate to give ya the "it's a long story" rap, but it is. To make it short, pretty much everyone back home is human, and I'm sure ya noticed I ain't. Thanks to that, certain parties want me dead. At least here, no one wants me dead specifically for bein' half demon. Only in the general "you're not on the UE's side" sorta way. It's refreshing. [Another smirk.]

Suppose that explains a lot. Can't say I blame you for not wanting to go back, but this isn't that much better.

Not like it is now, anyway.

Which is why someone ought to do something about it before we're all wiped off the map.

Tell me about it. I'd been sayin' that before they even did wipe us off the map. But what can we even do? There's so many of them and so little of us.

Not right now there isn't. [ And she's careful to make doubly sure there's no one about before adding:] Which means it's just about the only shot we've got to pull something off.

[He gives her a sidelong look, like he's trying to figure her out.]

...Do you actually think that'd be possible?

So long as we don't go in trying to do anything but get them to listen to us, yeah. I do.

It's our one clear shot at the transporter without an entire bloody fortress built up around it.

[He thinks that over for a moment.] Yeah. We need to make enough noise to get 'em to listen. There ain't many Initiative left at this point. They may have no choice but to listen to us.

Exactly. I mean we're not going in to beat the bastards senseless but something's got to change, right? If that means taking their toys away long enough to grab their attention then so be it.

Might be the only way to get a message across.

...Easier said than done, though.

Nah. Not with as few staff members as they've got on right now, yeah? [Chloe stops working at that, turns to settle back on her heels and glance over at him.] They don't actually babysit it day in and day out. Not like they normally would.

They couldn't, could they.

[The gears are turning in his head. She gets another glance.]

Maybe somethin' oughta be happenin' before it's too late. Just sayin'.

No. No I think you're right, love. And I think we ought to be the ones to give them that wake up call.

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