spacecoast | WEEK 5: DECOMMISSION

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decommission

WEEK 5: DECOMMISSION

WEEK 5 EXECUTION

WITNESSES REQUIRED.

ALL CREW PLEASE REPORT TO SIMULATION ROOM 001 AT 1300 HOURS. REPEAT, ALL CREW PLEASE REPORT TO SIM ROOM 001 AT 1300 HOURS. ATTENDANCE IS MANDATORY. CALLSIGN UNGEZIEFER IS TO BE EXECUTED FOR THE ACT OF MURDER AGAINST FELLOW CREW. SENTENCE ░̴░̵░̴░̵░̴EN ̵P̴E̷R̸ ̵A̵░̶░̴░̵C̸L̴E̴ ̸8̴8̴░̶░̴.̵2̵░̸ ̴O̷░̴░̷░̶░̴ ̵I̷N̷░̵░̷░̴G̸A̸░̴░̴░̷░̷░̷░̶░̸ ̶░̷░̴░̷ ̴░̴░̷░̵░̸T̵ ̴T̸H̴░̴░̷░̶░̴ ̶C̷H̷A̷░̵░̸░̷░̶ ̶A̵░̷░̷░̸S̷░̷ ̸░̸░̸░̸I̶N̷░̸░̴ ̵A̵░̷S̸░̶S̶. WOULD THE CONVICTED PLEASE STEP FORWARD. THANK YOU FOR YOUR UNDERSTANDING AND COOPERATION.

As the clock begins to wind towards that time once again, things on the ship are... quiet. The tension is thick in the air, trepidation abundant. Despite it all, you were able to find the killer, but at what cost? Some of you are with the convicted in the brig, waiting, waiting, and the Senior Crew among you are just as tense, some running systems checks anxiously in wait of whatever anomaly may be about to occur. A few sit in the brig alongside you, while others wait outside. Hope against hope, right? That maybe something can be done in the face of all these anomalies, week after week?

But, much like at trial, there is a shift to the silence. A sharp pneumonic hiss resound in the brig, and the convicted is simply - gone. The tubes that were used to take him away to the brig from the conference hall are now used to transport him elsewhere. No one is expelled from the brig. No one is locked out. And then the Eudora's AI calls out across the ship, informing you of where to go, a mandatory execution once again... but when has it never not been mandatory? Fear, anxiety, pain, rage... feel it, hold fast to it. Even if you don't make your way there willingly, your feet will carry you there to that wretched sim room once more.

The Sim & Grav rooms are deactivated in full - the eerie, orange glow of the blank space, filled with a faint, pink haze when you first arrive, doesn't make a particularly inviting scene when you arrive. But you're brought to the main, largest room, used for large group simulations and zero gravity runs, where a sweet scent lingers as the pink haze fades. And once you've gathered together to one side, that's where you'll be staying - a shimmery barrier falls down to separate you all from what the Eudora has decreed will be an execution.

LOCATIONS

MURDER

COMMS

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[ Great.

She's not surprised when the dude's sanity has been at a solid -45 for at least the last <24 hours, but she still doesn't like to see it. Now she's extra glad that she's the one here to deal with it, because god knows how anyone else would know, how anyone else could come even close to dealing with an Abnormality in human form.

She kicks into real businessmode now, careful hesitation thrown out the window in favour of urgency. She makes her move, stunningly fast for her size, swinging her axe right towards that 'face' that's more like a glaring eye. ]

[yeah wow he really could've wrecked somebody else huh? this is for the best. this is-]

Stay back!

[it's gregor's voice, but it isn't. there is an echoing strangeness to it, a wrongness.]

Don't... it's... better this way. Stay back.

[this time, when the brambles burst from the ground, they seek her viciously, aiming to constrict her too, to wrap and to pierce. back, get back, don't break them, don't break this-- they hunger. to grow around her and bloom. to see what color her roses will be.

they only barely keep her from cleaving right into his head, but she still strikes his face, that eye glowing bright before it closes with a scream.]

[ Ugh. It hurts, of course. She's avoided anything serious this entire time, which is hilarious and probably rather IC of her, so it's not shown much -- but she's just as mortal as the next guy despite her flippant attitude. The vines dig into her uniform, thorns clawing into skin hidden under thick fabric; Rodya bites her lip with a small grunt, but she doesn't bend. ]

I think -- you know that's not possible, babe -- !

[ She struggles against the thistles trying to hold her back, they won't, you won't, nobody is going to hold her back from doing what she wants to do. Wants to do? Needs to do. She still tries to push the blade forward. This could've been easy, one strike to the head, down like a stone. Isn't she good at that? That's all she's good for. This is her fucked up destiny.

The air in the SimGrav room is starting to feel awfully chilly. ]

[it's questionable whether he's ignoring the chill, or-- whether he even feels it at all. the eye does not open again, but it doesn't stop his corroded self from lashing out in anger and pain after he's been struck.]

Don't... don't try to...

[the brambles lash around the handle of her axe. her hands. her body. they dig into her as they yank her away from him, intending to crucify her and wrap tight, bleed her out, pierce her and dig and dig and water the flowers with--

something cracks.

there's a sound like glass breaking, all of a sudden, and the vines go limp, falling to the ground. the transformation drops from him, oddly fleshy rose petals shedding and vanishing as the e.g.o. dissipates, leaving just-- gregor, on his knees, with a bloody slash over his face. the regular one, bug arm and all.]

Rodya-!

[ Well you see the funny thing is that everybody is out here like 'surely Rodya can handle Gregor, she's qualified!' when usually it's like a full team of six Sinners up against a TETH and they're all doing the Family Guy death pose at the end of it lmao. Soloing a WAW-level Corrosion isn't actually that easy unfortunately.

So yeah, despite her strength, she's still only human as she gets ripped away from reach, arms and legs pinned to the cross, thorns digging into her wrists, leaving tears in her coat, clawing into her neck over the choker she always wears. Rust around the edges of every cut. And something else, glittering in the light, blood so cold and stagnant it looks almost dark.

Stagger+!!! But the Corrosion fades away and she just falls from where she was strung right onto the ground, landing with a heavy thud and a loud grunt of pain, splattering small spots of blood. ]

Ugh...!

[yeah SOLOING THESE NORMALLY DOES NOT GO WELL. he's scurrying right the fuck over there, ignoring the way he is bleeding from his face; there are so many blood vessels in a face, you know that? who even knows how deep this cut is. pretty hard to tell.

but gregor stumbles to his feet, nearly tripping as he hurries across the field to her.]

Sorry, I'm sorry, I couldn't...

[abnormalities like that are difficult on a good day, nevermind being at a solid negative fucking sanity.]

[ It's fine. It's fine. It's fine! She's been through worse, right? And physical wounds always heal. Look at how much rust they've had going on for them this entire week. Death is but another stupid obstacle. Pain is just a deterrent.

She grabs at the axe next to her and tries to get up, coughing up a spot of blood. ]

"S-sorry" doesn't cut it. We -- I have to --

[ Kill him. She has to kill Gregor in front of a stupid audience. An audience that has Yuri in it. She doesn't like being seen, she doesn't like being watched. The ground under her feels ice cold, a vision of blackened and frozen streets coming up around her, almost pushing back against the battlefield painted in the Simulation.

Weakly, she swipes at Gregor, but she's still trying to recollect herself after the damage. ]

I know. C'mon, you're stronger than me, anyway, you...

[she may be hard to read, but he thinks she must have more will than he does. more drive than he's had, someone forced onto a path that was set for him and never once allowed to truly stray from it. where would he even go, if he pulled free from that control? what could he even do?

what has he ever even been able to do-- they keep calling him good, but what good has anyone like him ever done.

it bubbles back up in him, that anger, jaw clenched as his arm lashes out to meet her swipe.]

[ She gets up on her feet, slow, but steady. Her movements seem sluggish, though getting stronger as she regains her bearing. The room definitely feels cold now as her frozen backdrop only grows, her ego pushing back against his, that old familiar wasteland.

Willpower. That damned little thing.

Gregor is right, she's not like him. She has too much willpower. Enough to go out on her own and make her own decisions, decide to go against a path that could've been laid out for her. But it made her unhappy, so she broke off. She broke everything in the end. There's nothing here she's holding onto except her axe, its bloodied blade being the only thing she can trust to do exactly what it was made to do. ]

Quit saying that if you're only going to fight back anyway!

What else do you want from me?!

[there's an edge of that anger to it, that rage, snapping back as their scenery blends together. ice creeps into even his side of the battlefield, rime coating some of the figures there... but smoke bleeds over into hers.

the next time he strikes-- what was it temenos had asked? what would have happened, if gregor's arm had been sharp?

it's not necessarily about it being sharp. his arm twists and shifts as it strikes at her, its mass aggregated closer to the tip of the arm almost like a wrecking ball as it swings at her.

if his arm worked the way it was made to, owner might not have had a chest left by the time gregor was done with him.]

[ No, don't look at her. This audience, their stage. She hates being upset. She hates appearing upset. She hates being reminded she's still someone who can be upset.

This mass appears to hit her head on? Just straight on McFucking Wrecking Balled. It would probably just crush most people, at the very least send them swinging.

Fortunately or unfortunately, when it hits, there's only the sound of sharp and loud crackling, and an exhale of icy breath. She jolts with the impact but something keeps her rootetd, dare I say, frozen to the floor. Ice covers her entire face like a convenient mask, only the reflections of everyone watching visible on the ice crystals covering both her head and her entire body. ]

You'll... be frozen, and it won't hurt. Stay cold, and you won't feel the pain. I'll... make it easy...

[ Okay, Gregor? Go into cryo like a good boy, as she swings a rime-covered axe blade at him. ]

Hgh-

[shit. even like this, he knows this is-- bad. (she truly is turning on him, to corrode and come for him like this-)

he raises his arm to block, but there's not much he can do against that axe when rime shank has her in its grip. it slices through, the arm dropping to the ground at his feet as he chokes on a pained cry.

no. no, not this, she can't-- she can't.

there's no logic or reason in the way he reaches for e.g.o. of his own again, branches winding up his feet, one growing from his head, more of them curling down the space where his arm was; they form a new one, but.

but.

this time, it's corroded right from the beginning, his mental state too fraught to support it. the branches grow thicker, wrapping all around his body, over his face and head, covering his eyes and leaving only his nose and mouth exposed.

at the end of his new arm is a large, rotted apple, already burst open; worms crawl from it, making a home on his withering branches, as he swings back at her with the grotesque thing.]

Then come... with me.

Together... we are in rot.

[ It's so cold. She wonders how long it's been like this. She wonders for how much longer it'll keep being like this.

She can't see or feel anything in this state, only Baba Yaga's obsessive desire to close the door on the skeletons in the closet, close their eyes on everything that hurts, the hunger. She agrees. It would be better off that way. And suddenly one day, maybe the sun will shine.

She's rusting a lot, but there's one particular spot that seeps through more than others. The white of her shirt over her chest is stained particularly reddish-orange, visible even through the crystals. Her heart. Her bleeding heart. All the stabs and broken bones and everything she's dealt with, being brought up with every hit, every touch of violence from Gregor, still doesn't come close to this.

Together in rot. Yeah. They really are Sinners, no better than the other.

This disgusting ball of worms hits her, and for a moment, she's obscured from vision -- lost in the sea of vermin. ]

[ But then there's a burst of flame, the ends of her coat and her hair a blazing fire, the rust of her heart now glowing abright with licking flames. She's selfish. She's greedy. She takes whatever she can reach, like fire, too, 4th Match Flame burning away the rot of Legerdemain. And that's --

'Companies that insist on the whole family dynamic is probably not a good place to be at anyway, right?'

'...probably not, sure, but they never really insisted on it.' ]

Together, huh.

[ Because she likes the LCB, she likes her new life, she likes Gregor, and if anyone is coming with anybody, you're coming with her.

She threw away everything Sonya could have offered her to stay with them. She's tired of things falling apart, and she won't lose another. You don't get to leave her. She'll go into those stupid gates herself, drag you back, and she'll probably bash your skull in, and then open the gates again -- and then you owe her a hug, probably.

She adjusts her handle on her thawing axe, fervent flames turning the ends red. ]

...I'll go with you wherever.

[ So don't keep her waiting too long -- pushing back again with another swing. ]

Wither with me-

[it's cut off. her flames lick at him, then, at the maggots and frail branches encircling him. burning away the rot.

the ash of burned plants nurtures new soil, doesn't it? even after a volcano's eruption, things take root and they bloom. you burn away the choking weeds and you make way for new life, feeding on the old, on what came before.

he is singed, charred, still one-armed, but the burns don't matter.

'would you call the LCB family?'

'i think-- we're probably the closest thing i've got, sure.'

all of it burns away. it leaves him with the crackling of flame mixed with cracking glass, pushed back by the swing of her axe.

'why, did you wanna try being in charge? you can tell me where you wanna go.']

...don't follow me yet.

[not this time. you can't pull him out of hell if you go too.

he doesn't have his arm. he doesn't have a weapon. he is smoldering. gregor doesn't... strike back, this time.]

We promised.

['alright, smile!'

...he does.]

Edited 2024-04-07 19:48 (UTC)

[ Ice and fire... the first two E.G.O equipments she got. It was pretty funny in a terrible way, how ironic that was, but fitting to her as a person. The ice will have to thaw some-day. She doesn't know when that is, or how it'll happen, when she'll feel quite right to do it --

But she knows she'd rather be as she is, with the LCB, than living that picture-perfect dream. Reality is dirty, it's ugly, it's glass-shattering pain, but here, the bonds mean so much more.

She hopes. And sometimes that's good enough. ]

You better answer when we come knocking.

[ She's going to send soooo many annoying messages at you until then. And so, with less resistance now, she goes for the cleanest and swiftest option. ]

Like I could ignore it...

[one more tease for the road, y'know.

but it's best like this. if he doesn't have control over his own will, his own path, then at least--

he is little more than an outcast. he's a little more than an outcast, with them.

her axe sinks into him, without resistance. it strikes true, just like he knew it would; just like he trusted her to do, if it ever came to this. her axe in his body, or his arm in hers, one way or the other.

whatever it is that he breathes with his last breath, she's the only one who will hear it. see you later.

and with that, gregor is dead.]

[ and just like that, the execution is over. the simulation glitches out, and it's the eerie orange glow of the room deactivated, and there, in among the fallout... are your friends. one is still standing, the flames and steam coasting off of her body, fizzling out with the rest of the simulation as all returns to what it once was before.

the other, laid out on the ground after breathing out his last words to her, his body cleaved, meeting peace by a friend of a friend, the blade of an axe. where two sinners once stood, one lays on the scorched earth remains of it all.

the clock's ticking, but there's no turning it back this time, it seems. a notification pings onto everyone's i.r.i.s. ]

PLEASE RETURN ALL DECOMMISSIONED CREW TO THE STASIS BAY.

[ as if you needed the announcement as the barrier falls. gregor is dead. ]

Edited 2024-04-07 20:11 (UTC)

...

[ Well, she gets right to it, then. She's going to pick up Gregor's body and start moving. The sooner to the cryopod, the better. ]

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WEEK 5: DECOMMISSION

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cw body horror, rot, bugs, i am so sorry please mind the warnings

cw worms mention but im not teej, also /2

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