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

[depicted]

Dorian releases a ragged laugh that twists again at his vanishing injuries, but he doesn't release Steve for a second. "I'm immortal, you idiot. Now, shut up." Dorian's head bows against Steve's chest, and a shuddering sob strains through his fresh-healed ribs.

[usavatar]

He has to lay back down to free up an arm, which he drapes around Dorian's shoulders in the closest approximation of a hug he can manage at the moment. "Not what I meant."

Steve closes his eyes again, vaguely aware that he's bleeding on Dorian - but having a hole ripped in his side has probably already ruined the immortal's clothes.

[depicted]

When Dorian can breathe again, he pulls back, not quite releasing Steve. He is a mess of blood and phantom pain, but he is fine.

Steve isn't.

"What do you need me to do?"

[usavatar]

Steve draws his arm to his side, then reaches out to touch the spot where he sank his fingers through Dorian's skin, a brief assurance that Dorian is back in one piece.

Do. What does he need Dorian to do.

Think.

"Peggy," he says. "Closest. She can help, find someone else who can."

He puts a hand against his side and tries to sit up again, fighting the press of gravity. Exertion sends fresh stains spreading around his injuries.

[depicted]

Dorian doesn't stop Steve, knowing it's nearly useless. He supports him instead, keeping one hand clamped tight to the stomach wound. "At least let me wrap this one first. I don't want to get killed another time tonight because I brought you home with this many open wounds." Not waiting for Steve's permission, Dorian makes a massacre of the rest of his coat, working quickly and deftly. Steve will recover, Dorian knows that. He just has to make sure Steve stays together long enough to heal.

[usavatar]

Steve stays put and lets him do it. The ease, speed, and tidiness of the job strikes Steve as practiced. Dorian had said he was in London for the Blitz, but what about before that? What about after?

"How many wars have you seen?"

[depicted]

"I tried to avoid the frontlines for obvious reasons," he answers. "Most of the conflict I've seen has been gloriously personal, not national."

The immediate work helps to calm Dorian, as the chemicals still racketing around his body begin to normalize again. He's fine but he isn't, and it's the worst part of taking injuries as he is: everything looks fine, but his mind knows that it's all wrong.

[usavatar]

He lets his head fall against Dorian's shoulder, an attempt at comfort that lets him go limp enough to mentally regroup.

As soon as Dorian is finished with the injury, Steve rolls over, onto his knees, and stands determinedly free of assistance. For a moment - fingertips pressing hard against one of the unbound injuries, in the middle of rubble with the sounds of the city going mad at a distance - he could be in New York. He could be in the mud-slagged fields of Europe, or the remains of one of Schmidt's work camps.

Steve blinks the temporal dizziness away and goes to retrieve his shield. "If these things can get-" a pause as he bends to pick it up "-into the consoles..."

He needs to warn Peggy. He needs to warn others, too, but she's the closest and she can get the word out better than he can right now.

[depicted]

"None of that," Dorian says. He moves over to Steve's side. "Let me at least support you."

He doesn't need to think hard to guess where Steve might want to go.

[usavatar]

"I'm fine." He almost rolls his eyes at himself, over how untrue that statement is. "I'll make it all right."

He isn't used to accepting assistance, not in this kind of situation. It's a matter of pride, a matter of stubbornness - moreover, it's a fact of who he is. He can't let people see Captain America limping through the streets of Keeliai in a crisis. "It's not far."

[depicted]

Dorian will do the eyerolling for him. "Yeah, and my shirt is salvageable. I wasn't making a request, Steve."

[usavatar]

"No." He slides the shield onto his arm, and there's a clear easing of tension as it settles where it belongs. It's funny how much a part of him it's become. "I'll make it."

He might collapse after that, but as long as he can get that far, it's fine.

[depicted]

"Why do I doubt that?" Dorian muses to himself. "Oh, now I know," he says, before aiming a punch at Steve's gut wound. And should he stumble on impact, he will catch him and help him.

It still isn't a request.

[usavatar]

Well, that was unexpected. Steve makes a soft noise of surprise, squaring off so he keeps his feet in spite of the way his vision grays. He locks on Dorian's position, so when his vision clears he's looking the older man in the face.

"Don't test me, right now, Dorian," he says, his voice quiet. He does allow himself to brush a bit of dirt from Dorian's shoulder, for all the good it does. It's a conciliatory gesture. "This is who I have to be right now."

[depicted]

Dorian's answer is barely above a murmur. "Someone who stands alone?"

[usavatar]

"Someone who helps others up." It's not quite semantics. They're at base the same thing, almost. But one requires that much more resilience. He starts for the street without forcing the issue, hoping that Dorian will leave it be. It takes most of his focus just to gather himself, mentally and physically, to appear unshaken and himself.

[depicted]

Dorian shakes his head. But he knows he can't fight Steve on it; he's pretty sure, after this, that it will take more hitting than Dorian has in him to make Steve fall and let Dorian help him. So he just walks with Steve, hands in what remains of the pockets of his sleeves. "If Peggy lectures you, I'm not saving you."

[usavatar]

"If Peggy lectures me, you wouldn't be able to save me anyway."

The journey is mercifully brief and uneventful, and Steve has to resist the urge to smash his way through the front door to make sure Peggy is all right. It's unlocked, for one thing.

He sets the shield by the door, letting himself brace himself one-handed against the table. "Peggy?"

Please, let her be here.

[depicted]

Dorian follows a moment after. He is still wide-eyed, still jittery from that fight, but here, at least, they might relax. He lets out a sigh and leans back against a wall.

[shootingshields]

Peggy hears them come in. She hears her name, and the part of her brain that's entirely aware of the situation is cursing at the luck of it. Because her body moves without her say, moving towards them.

She stands in the threshold, and they both look like hell already. But there's something in how she's standing, something that is definitely not Margaret Carter, and she wants to warn them, but she can't.

Maybe the fact that her hand is reaching behind her for the gun tucked in her waistband is warning enough, and what focus she has shifts into trying to stop her arm from moving; it's a shaky process, but it's not exactly working yet.