Event | Satellite | Spectres!

[ironwood]

Characters: Any and all!
Date: May 23 - 26, 2013
Location: Keeliai, turtleside, ARSHEPHELIOS cluster remains
Situation: Repairs and salvage operations operating innocently have triggered an invasion of spectres that possess and wreak havoc upon all they see.
Warnings/Rating: Please put CW in your subject lines

Satellite Crash Event

Crash Landing | Salvage Party | Shocking Spectres


Questions | Keeliai | ARSHEPHELIOS


Salvage is sweet, but not all is well on board the ARSHEPHELIOS cluster. The seamless cylinders salvaged from debris and the cluster, now being frequently traded, turn out to be pods the first time one is penetrated or cracked open. Each breached pod releases a flood of energy-based apparitions hellbent on world domination -- or, more accurately, person domination (and it's not the fun kind).

These apparitions -- spectres, if you will -- are driven by a need to protect the technology of the satellite cluster that their pods are associated with. They will stop at nothing to see this through. Each is immune to physical attacks, but seem to be injured or dissipated entirely by things like electrical shock or other energy-based projections. If people touch them, there is also a brief window of vulnerability, but it acts also like a door that swings both way. Through contact, these spectres can and will invade one's psyche, take over their body and cause them to attack friend or foe alike! Should the possessed body be subjected to sufficient electrical shock, the possession should fade. Strong natural will can also drive the spectres out, but it is no walk in the park to do so. Possession is not the only tool in the arsenal, for these spectres use electricity as their main offensive weapon. They'll leave deep-tissue burns on anyone they fight, and show no degree of fatigue after constant use of it.

Ten thousand of these creatures will be freed from pods, resulting in a veritable flood of Keeliai, the turtleside, and the satellite cluster. With such a driven enemy, it comes down to killing or being killed.

Meanwhile, those taking shelter indoors may notice that the spectres will get into the biomechanical functions of Keeliai. Consoles will be malfunctioning during this time, with lines of mysterious code and strange, ghostly images. One might hear people screaming for help or hours of patchy radio static.

Comments

[imaginate]

[Already on his bike and riding off. Catch him if you can.]

[jirk]

[Lantern, pls. Ain't nobody in this 'verse better at racing motorcycles than Jim Kirk.

Even if he's a little out of practice. He catches up and yells into the wind,]

Hey! Could you electrify these things?

[imaginate]

[Jim pls. You've never raced against people who can run faster than the speed of light.

At the question, Kyle frowns slightly, and puts a forcefield around Jim, before the construct starts to crackle with electricity, the force of will flowing through them.]

That answer your question, Princess?

[jirk]

[Well that. Is a thing that happened. Jim holds one hand up, studying the glow of that-- force field?

Sure. He won't question it. In fact, it just makes things all the more interesting, as far as he's concerned.

They reach the newest congregation of spectres at roughly the same time (Jim's a little in the lead, he thinks, but hey, he's not one to rub it in) and Jim aims straight for the biggest group with the motorcycle, and at the last possible second, he puts it into a sideways slide and jumps off of it.

Testing that force field out? Maybe a little. But the devil-may-care is all Jim, and there's a memory of doing nearly the same thing to a Stingray once upon a time.

The force field holds (he's going to feel that impact in the morning, though) and he comes to an inelegant tangle of limbs a short distance away. He shakes his head a little - hard landing, even if he's not bleeding - and then pushes himself back onto his feet. His little bowling for spectres trickshot cleared them out for a half-dozen metres, and he grins, recklessly triumphant.]

[imaginate]

[Kyle lets him get into the lead. He's done the same with others, too, he's quite subtle about such things. This man - Captain, whatever - he needs to be in charge. He must be alone, without a crew, without a ship. It's no blow to Kyle's pride or dignity or anything like that. It's just him taking charge of the situation, in his own way.

He simply hovers upwards and the motorcycle disappears: he takes care of the remaining spectres quickly and effectively with a simple discharge. No need for anything fancy when there were civilians in other areas. Sora must be running herself ragged with the burn victims. He makes a mental note to check on her immediately after he's done with everyone else.

His brow furrows a little, as he studies Jim on the ground. A daredevil. Something to prove. It's familiar, and it's also disconcerting.]

You win. [Calm. Light. He's no sore loser.] Planning to claim a prize?

[jirk]

[Jim rubs the back of his hand across his mouth. He can taste blood - must've bitten something when he hit the ground.]

You sure you didn't let me win?

[It's what he would have done, but there's no rancour in the comment. Maybe he can work with this guy after all. If he's good enough to design a pitch-perfect phaser, and motorcycles on the fly, he's good enough to win a race.]

[imaginate]

[He holds up both hands.]

If I had, you'd know, wouldn't you?

[A shrug.]

I prefer flying. My best friend back home can outrun pretty much anything I make, and I kind of got tired of losing to him all the time.

[jirk]

[Yeah, he's not sure he buys that, but he'll let it slide. Maybe he's just looking into things too deeply. It's not like Kyle has much of a reason to want him to feel good about winning something.]

So this sort of thing is-- [he gestures] common for you guys?

[imaginate]

Every day that ends with Y.

[He keeps his tone flippant. He can get away with that because he's young and stupid, he supposes, and anyway, he has nothing to prove. And-- he's too tired. When he needs to be sturdy, he builds a dam around himself. He can break it down later.]

You?

[jirk]

Oh, I've saved the universe a time or two. Crazy space ghosts are new, though.

[He leaves it open-ended on purpose. Let Kyle think he's exaggerating if he wants, the truth of the matter is despite his ego (which has been accurately dubbed 'monstrous' by numerous members of his crew) Jim actually isn't much of a braggart.

A beat, and then,]

Thanks. For the help. I couldn't have done this without you.

[imaginate]

[He's listening, but he's also turned away from Jim and is looking at a construct screen showing him a map of Keeliai, with glowing dots marked for who he last saw, and where. His uniform is torn on one side, revealing part of what are nasty-looking scars on his back. Sinestro's handiwork - which the ring couldn't heal. They can't be more than a few months old. Kyle's not used to them being there, and he rolls his shoulders instinctively, resisting the urge to rub it.

He nods at the gratitude (he is still listening). Lets the man have his limelight, remembering rookies coming home from the mission that gets them the badge.]

You too. If you hadn't come along when you did.

[jirk]

[Jim catches sight of those scars, one corner of his mouth twisting down into a sympathetic grimace. They look fresh to the tune of a few months old, and he looks down at his hands.

He's willing to bet those scars weren't something this guy picked up in a car crash, and he feels a little ridiculous for the fact that he's in pain over a couple burns.

So he steps up next to Kyle to study the map, overlaying it in his own mind with what he knows of the people he's met here, and his tone is mild when he speaks,]

You'd have been just fine. You don't have to pander to my ego, Angel. I know a vet when I see one.

[imaginate]

[Mildly:] I'm not pandering. You saved me a lot of valuable time. [In a battle like this it meant life and death for people, so he means every word.] Keep that up and we might just win this.

[jirk]

[He knows when he's being talked down to, but he's too tired to let it bother him. If the guy wants to think he's a rookie, well. It's not like it's the first time he's had to deal with people who don't believe he's earned what he has, and frankly? He's not going to waste his time talking to someone who's handling him with kid gloves.

He holds the construct phaser aloft.]

How long's this good for?

[imaginate]

[Kyle gives him a good, long look. It's curious, and sharp all at once.]

If you think I'm patronising you, go ahead and break my face. That's the one thing I don't do, and I'd appreciate being told.

[Blunt.]

When I said you helped me out, I meant it sincerely.

[jirk]

Even if I thought you were [that's a chess move] I wouldn't waste either of our time with a brawl when we have people we need to be saving.

[He's done playing nice, so he'll just treat this guy with the indifferent neutrality he affords people who're useful, but on a divergent path. At least he's not dealing with another goddamned Commodore Daniels.]

Phaser, how long's it got? And is that map real-time accurate?

[imaginate]

[A chess player. Kyle hates chess. He raises his ring, and the construct disappears, replaced by one exactly like it, but only a slightly darker shade of green. His hand trembles - this takes energy and he's well past the point of exhaustion, but his jaw is set, resolute. After he's done he exhales, flexes his fingers again, fighting the migraine that's the telepathic alarm.

Evenly:] As long as you require it. Map's not real-time. I can drop you off somewhere if you want to look for your people.

[Somebody like this had to have friends, he supposed.]

[jirk]

[Damnit, he didn't want him to do that, it's obvious Kyle's pretty much dead on his feet, and Jim's hotly against the idea of people doing him favours. But he nods his thanks, in part to hide his flinch when Kyle says 'your people'.

Jim never realized what it meant to have a family until he had the Enterprise, and now... now, there's nothing he wouldn't do for them. But they aren't here, and that's an open wound with him, ripped open and raw in the wake of this crisis. He's met a few people he likes, sure. But no one he'd really consider relying on.

He looks down at the phaser in his hands, and his grip on it tightens.]

Thanks. I'll manage. Good hunting, Rayner.

[imaginate]

[He's sharp enough to spot the flinch: he knows loneliness, he knows missing your family. Grating this guy - it reminds him of grating with Oliver. There's too many similarities and Kyle... Kyle had been beaten, broken, stripped down to his core, and not given a chance to put himself back together.

And this guy was... trying to help him. By reading him, trying to adjust to him. Maybe Kyle doesn't owe him an explanation, but, he can't help having the feeling that somewhere, in another life, if under different circumstances, they'd be friends. He knows Jim's walls. They're Kyle's own walls.

He's too tired for anything other than raw honesty. Here goes an attempt at not being Kyle Rayner the Screwup.]

You're right. I'm not at a 100%.

[jirk]

[He's half turned away when Kyle says it, and Jim does something that's barely even in his vocabulary: he hesitates. Glances back at him with one eyebrow faintly raised. Why are you telling me this?]

Do you need help getting back?

[Because he... can't really think of another reason he'd just up and admit that out of the blue. He knows he wouldn't.]

[imaginate]

No, it's not that. You're reading me. It's pissing me off.

[Despite the words, his tone is neutral: he's stating a fact. And it's important that he imply he doesn't have any grudges against Jim for doing it. After all, he'd been doing the exact same thing right back.]

[jirk]

[He turns the rest of the way back around, mirroring that spoken neutrality in his own expression.]

Seriously? That's what this is about?

[It's not angry or accusatory. It's just a perspective he hadn't considered yet.]

[imaginate]

[Kyle's hand absently goes to his torn uniform at the shoulder. He has no doubt that if his scars are visible, that they were seen.]

Seriously. I get it [I do it too] but, it's grating me really badly.

[jirk]

[He considers it, running his tongue over his teeth. He's identified the spot where he bit his lip earlier in the motorcycle stunt, and he never has known when to leave well enough alone.]

Outside the bar, when I reintroduced myself. And then in the restaurant.

[Both times he said something, adapted to what he felt the situation needed, and both times Kyle bucked social convention and did damned near the opposite. Jim's looking at him again, with curiosity this time. Starfleet's all about diplomacy. And as much as this guy's rebuffed his attempts at an olive branch, he can't in good conscience do the same. Especially not now that he knows why.]

Okay, so how do we fix it?

[Jim Kirk: solution oriented. But there's a faint element of should we even bother trying? in his tone as well. Leaving that ball in Kyle's court.

Jim might not like being read, but for him, it becomes a chess game. A competition. And he plays to win.]

[imaginate]

[He nods. Both times, he felt like he was being pushed to be something, to show something he wasn't ready for. It was like Guy pushing him. Kyle'd lashed out, put the walls back up. That had ended in a beating. This was - well, it had been - going in the same direction. Which meant: change it up. Be unpredictable.

He's not really sure how to fix it though. With any other Lantern - they had years to build up trust, tours and battles and down-time. He and Jim only have the recognition that they're kindred spirits.

And in the end? He's not somebody to turn down help. There were so few people you could rely on that... it was sheer idiocy to do so. Yet - he wasn't ready to be pushed like Jim was pushing.

Kyle cants his head slightly to the side, mirroring the curiosity. He can't put it into words, that they're similar and different.]

You're playing chess. I'm playing go.

[What's the middle ground?]