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

[totallytrustworthy]

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.]
 

Comments

[hyanaimne]

[she makes a face and sighs]

Lovely. I do not suppose I get anything out of earning this status, yes? Other than more frustration?

[totallytrustworthy]

[Chloe laughs at that-- doesn't mean to but it slips out anyway.] Sounds like you know what's ahead of you already.

[hyanaimne]

[the annoyed look on her face isn't aimed at Chloe]

I have enough of that as it is.

[totallytrustworthy]

You and me both. [Which is why it's nothing short of convenient that the crowds are starting to thin out once they get past housing-- enough so that hitting an empty corridor prompts a slight segue.] So long as we don't have a say in what goes on around here, though, that's never gonna change.

[hyanaimne]

[she tilts her head for a moment, thoughtful, before she glances over at Chloe. She'd never asked about the Transports' power in that before, because it had never been important to her until recently, with the whole being forced onto the moon]

A shame, that. The lot in charge do not seem to give a damn what we think.

[totallytrustworthy]

Never have. Never will. Not without a little push-- and good luck getting that to happen. [Testing the water in 3, 2...]

[hyanaimne]

Mm . . . it would be nice if someone would step up and do something about it.

[she lets out a huff, tinged with bitterness and amusement] Good luck on that happening as well, hm?

[totallytrustworthy]

....[cue one last double check on how far off any moon base residents might be, and:] Not as far fetched as you might think, actually.

[hyanaimne]

[that gets her attention. Tempest glances over at her, eyebrows raised]

Ohh? Do tell.

[totallytrustworthy]

More of us than there are of them, right? The only time we have to actually take a stand is before those numbers shift.

[hyanaimne]

Mm . . . and that will not shift until the bombing is, ah, "fixed".

[totallytrustworthy]

Exactly. Which means we've got a small window to apply pressure before it all goes back the way it was.

[hyanaimne]

Yes, it does. It sounds as though you already have a plan.

[totallytrustworthy]

I do. [And it's a solid, purposeful stare that Tempest gets just after she says it.] So I have to ask right now before I go any further whether or not you'd rather stay here in all this.

[hyanaimne]

[she tilts her head, considering just what to say]

I would have to ask what you mean by that.

[totallytrustworthy]

Well I'm not about to go showing my hand to someone that's not on my team, yeah?

[hyanaimne]

Ah, fair point. [she shrugs, taking a brief glance down the hallway again to make sure they were still alone]

I suppose you can consider me a teammate, then.

[totallytrustworthy]

Right, well, the one thing we've got in our favor right now is strength in numbers. We've, what-- hundreds to their tens? [Look, she hasn't taken a head count, that's Charlie's job.] Which means sneaking in to get our hands on the transporter is an actual possibility.

And once we have it, all we need to do is lock it down and demand a little equality in exchange for passing their tech back.

[hyanaimne]

Seems simple enough. [Tempest was never one for numbers or real plans as it was - she was was always the hired help, there either to provide protection or power] How many have agreed to work with you?

[totallytrustworthy]

Mm? Oh. [Four does not an attractive number make.] Ten. So far, of course. Probably a few more will turn up with a little luck.

Or the right connections.

[hyanaimne]

[Tempest can't think of too many who would actually . . . be interested in participating. Some who may agree with the idea, of course, but otherwise]

Hopefully. I cannot say I know many who would join in, though. [wryly] I've made friends with too many of those "good" kinds of people.

[totallytrustworthy]

Oh ouch, c'mon. It's not as if we're the bad sort. [Yes, Chloe, yes you are.]

[hyanaimne]

I did not mean it as an insult towards us.

[totallytrustworthy]

Right. Must be the company I keep these days. Very judge-y.

[hyanaimne]

Judge-y is a good descriptor.