MINI-EVENT: MIMICS

[returnjourney]

MINI-EVENT: MIMICS

May 28th – June 1st, 2022
The Peregrine recently stopped in Bhujerba and took on a whole bunch of new supplies, courtesy of the ship's crew. The transport bots are now positioning those massive pallets of supplies in the storage facility, and wardens (and sneaking inmates!) won't have trouble noticing them: unlike the smooth metal and glass cases that make up the bulk of the storage facility's freight, these were packaged in Bhujerba. They look like great black-and-gold amphoras with matching legs. Practical? Certainly not. Nicer to look at? Well, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but it sure breaks up all this minimalist shit.

And then one morning, the passengers will discover that some of the amphoras have been moved, and no one really seems to know by who (though Archimedes has ideas).

This event takes player submissions for what will be found in the amphoras, which you can find on the OOC post here. If you have any questions about the event, please ask here.

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Questions & Answers

1. Missing!

They're gone.

One day there were dozens of amphoras, lined up in neat rows on a metal pallet, and now their numbers are halved. The storage facility is supposed to be off-limits to inmates, but it doesn't stop them from walking in anyway to poke around. Thieves, perhaps? Stored goods don't just get up and walk away on their own.

2. Fighting the Mimics

The amphoras show up all on their own a few days later, tucked into corners in odd rooms, between rows of plants in the greenhouse, under a desk in the resource library... Anywhere a door wouldn't stop them and, even then, they occasionally sneak in. A sharp eye might notice the slightest variation in color, or question how they got in at all, but a curious cat will find the answer quickest.

When touched, the amphoras come to life, their stands unfolding into four spider-like legs, the body pivoting parallel to the ground. The lid becomes a terrible eye. It may look like a machine, but its thick carapace makes it an insectoid.

What it wants, unfortunately, is to feast on sentient brains.

Good luck!

3. Goodies

Destroying the mimics yields loot: a dropped cache of goods. The problem is there's no way to tell what belongs to who...and finding the intended owner means knowing what that person might want.

Please respond here if you'd like your character to find any items; just remember, it's their job to figure out who it rightfully belongs to! (There's a cheat sheet here with what items are intended for who, but it's always fun to consider who your character would think would want that item...if only to play keep-away.)

Comments

[rank1]

He has to stop blaming retirement. At some point, possibly the second his spine sings out, probably the beat where her weight settles on him, certainly when she hits him— no, it’s more than just being rusty.

He doesn’t want to be here.

But he is. It’s fight or die.

“Crazy bitch,” he shouts around a mouthful of blood, and he bucks his hips up to knock her off balance, hand still on the hilt, jerking.

[n0ught]

The blood under her knuckles is goddamn heaven, dopamine thrumming in her bloodstream so potently that she is going to need a cigarette in a minute. Perhaps it's unfair that she didn't tell Travis that her brain has been literally rewired to find this kind of thing pleasurable. But that doesn't really come up in conversation a lot.

"No shit," she starts to say, laughing, but he jerks up at the exact moment she swings her fist, and she bites down on her tongue as she loses her balance sideways.

Cw psycho murdery shit lives here

[rank1]

He should finish her off. No reason not to, really, and that alone is a fire alarm being pulled, his mind evacuating itself of thoughts.

He bowls her over, blood rolling off his chin and dripping down on her; he can feel the inside of his lip split wide against his teeth. Travis presses her to the floor and the spike rises from her as it hits the floor, one foot and then the other, and he pulls it out entirely. He points it in her face, the tip just under her eye.

“I know your type,” he says. The fight could go on, she can make him pay, but just in case: “Tell me you’ll accept losing.”

[n0ught]

Having the spike pulled out of her gut is enough to pierce through the fog of euphoria, and Jack swears loudly, clutching at her side with one hand as she tries to lift herself up on her elbow. But there's not really anywhere she can go with the bloodied spike right in her face, so she gives up on that quickly.

This has all kind of straddled the line between Fight Club Fun and Legitimate Attempted Murder, and Jack should really just laugh and hold up her hands and go get the Auto-Doc to stitch her up, but 'accepting loss' sounds stupid and weak. Maybe if she makes him uncomfortable, he'll fuck off on his own.

"Fuck you," she says, spitting blood. "I know your type. You get off on this shit? Your dick get hard if people surrender?"

[rank1]

He lets her try to get up, giving her barely an inch to rise before he keeps the tip on her face. He looks down at her with a tense expression, a foul taste in his mouth.

"Only when––"

That's when the mimic crashes into him, knocking him off Jack and to the floor. Oops.

[n0ught]

Travis suddenly goes hurtling off to the side and Jack looks over at the amphora-thing, somewhat at a loss. "Shit." She'd completely forgotten what they were fighting about in the first place.

"Get up, you fuckshit, I don't have a weapon," she barks, scooting backwards as quickly as she can while she's bleeding like this.

[rank1]

Travis had, too.

"Yeah, yeah––fuck!"

He gets an arm under the thing, struggling to keep it away from his face for long enough to get the spike positioned just right to bury into the thing's underside with a sick slide. Teeth grit, he's still fighting it off through its death throes. By time he slings it aside, he's seriously contemplating whether to finish Jack off. It'd be fucked to chase a girl dragging herself across the floor, right?

"You runnin'?"

[n0ught]

Jack is curious to see what's inside the amphora, but her sense of self-preservation is much louder: Travis has eliminated the immediate threat, she is very vulnerable, and he is very dangerous.

"I 'surrender,'" she says, making air quotes with one hand as she heaves herself to her feet, her other hand keeping the blood from spilling out her side. "I should go, and fuck you if you follow me."

[rank1]

He looks around him, as if Sylvia might suddenly appear with her two cleaning goons to mop up the mess before someone else comes along.

"What," he calls back, "you're just gonna bleed out in the inmate showers or whatever?"

[n0ught]

Jack displays her middle finger.

"The Auto-Doc, asshole. Why, you wanna patch me up? Get some hands-on experience?"

[rank1]

Travis strolls after her, spike at his side.

"Nah, I'm better at finishing moves," he replies. "What are you gonna tell the warden who lets you in?"

[n0ught]

She whirls around when he starts following her, taking a few large, backwards strides away from him. "Back up, Travis."

The threat in her tone is probably lessened by all the blood loss, but hey. He's still got his pointy stick.

"Well, I thought I'd tell them all about the fucking nerd who stabbed me. What do you think? I'll blame it on one of these stupid jar things."

[rank1]

He stops just long enough to give her a few steps, and then he keeps walking, just slower.

"Sounds good," he replies. He can work with it. The wardens might even believe it. "Rematch later?"

[n0ught]

Travis is fucking weird. Jack has decided this.

She is not super pleased by him continuing toward her, but she holds her ground. If he wants to kill her, she's not going to make it fun or anything.

"Only if I get to be the top next time," she says, eying the spike.

[rank1]

You and the rest of the world, baby.

"Hah." He hangs his head for a beat, and then seems to shrug it off. "If you can take it, you can have it."

He sheaths the spike again, and gives a jaunty little wave with his free hand.

"Don't pass out on the way!"

And then he walks on, right past her.