( 004 » ENSEMBLE ) decay

[reveriemod]

» WHO? EVERYONE
» WHEN? August 1 - 31
» WHERE? the entire station
» WHAT? Characters begin suffering mysterious and varied symptoms. (More info can be found HERE.)
» WARNINGS? illness, body transformation, loss of limb, general body horror, blood, gore

0 0 1 » STAGE 1

Characters start suffering from a light fever. They’ll feel tired and achy, more inclined to bundle up in a warm sweater (if they have one) and drink tea or have chicken soup in bed than anything else. Unfortunately, the food fabricators still don’t provide the best comfort food.

Admittedly: some people are more affected than others. Some don’t seem to be affected at all.

0 0 2 » STAGE 2

For some characters, the fever will go away and they will feel fine for a brief period. It was probably just a cold, right? And then new symptoms set in: something dark and black spreads from their heart toward their extremities through their veins, making them stand out strongly. It hurts a little, or maybe a lot and no one knows what causes this or what it is that is spreading so darkly through their veins.

For some other characters, the fever will also go away and they will feel fine for a brief period before different symptoms set in: something hard starts spreading beneath their skin, making movements just a little more difficult for affected areas. The pain of this ranges from light discomfort to severe.

For yet other characters, the fever grows worse. They experience hallucinations of their extremities turning to dust, just the way it looks when someone arrives on or disappears from the station. They lose sensation in their extremities during those hallucinatory episodes, so if they reach out to touch something with a hand they think has disappeared, they’ll feel nothing. If they try to walk and then hallucinate their legs disappearing, they’ll stumble and fall to the floor.

0 0 3 » STAGE 3

For some characters, the blackness spreads and brings additional symptoms and worsening conditions with it: their skin starts to rot and fall off, toe or fingernails or entire toes or fingers might rot and fall off, wounds open that ooze a black and foul smelling, thick fluid dripping without looking to stop even if pressure is applied. It’s painful, and the open, infected looking wounds will not close, however much characters try to treat them.

Slowly, these characters’ bodies seem to rot and decay while they still live. For non-organic characters, it’s as if their wires are melting down, metals merging together and seeping through components.

For other characters, the hardness spreads and brings additional symptoms and worsening conditions with it: some of their joints may no longer move at all, their skin turning hard and impenetrable. Characters will also their sensory perception of affected limbs/surfaces, becoming unable to notice when someone touches them on an affected area. They may also lose any other sense if the infection spreads to their eyes, their ears, their mouths. Moving is slow, difficult, painful, until it becomes practically impossible. The noises their joints make seem robotic.

Slowly, these characters seem to turn into something else. Something hard and metallic, something unfeeling and impenetrable. Something inhuman?

For those who were still suffering from the fever, it seems like there is finally some good news: the fever lets up - but then affected characters find first their skin and increasingly the entirety of their body turning translucent and insubstantial. It will start with their skin and spread to the tissue beneath. One moment, they are able to see their own organs working, their heart pumping as their ribcage turns see-through… and a while later, well. Have you ever watched someone’s heart disappear? Now’s your chance.

It might reappear for a moment, as though flickering in and out of existence. It might disappear entirely. Slowly, these characters seem to fade from existence.

0 0 4 » STAGE 4

The tables turn as characters’ bodies gain ground in the fight to return back to normal, but some changes disappear sooner than others and some might even seem to be permanent.

0 0 5 » INVESTIGATION

What is wrong with you? What is wrong with everyone? What caused it and how can these symptoms be treated, halted, reversed?

Is there a cure or is it possible to at least understand what’s going on?

Comments

MILLER | OTA

[pampa]

mess hall » every night you're terrified

It had come on so slowly Miller scarcely noticed it at first. It's like the music only worse because he's acutely aware of the hallucinations he's having. One minute he'll be sitting with someone at the Mess, having an animated conversation, and the next he's staring down at shaking hands, seeing one finger at a time burst into dust. He hears Anderson Dawes in his ear, confessing to his sister's murder lovingly. 'Her bones were like chalk,' he'd spat out the word. Miller swallows, slamming his hands on the table as if to prove they're still there, but the sensation is phantom, and it makes his stomach roll, pushing his tray away with numb hands and looking up at whoever he's sitting with.

"Sorry, lost my appetite. Resume this kumbaya session later?"

corridors » of what you won't become

Miller has been up a record amount of time, even for him and he's wandering Deck 3 and 4 with seemingly no rhyme or reason. He's all decked out in his police getup just like he's been most of the days since he'd received it. At least this time he isn't waving his gun around though it is fully visible from underneath his coat as he babbles seemingly to no one.

"That's how they getcha... doors and corners, kid. I told 'em to always watch the doors and corners. Did they listen?" He shakes his head. "Goddamn rookies."

If you're passing by him while he's talking nonsense, you might see him start to fade out of the corner of your eye. He seems to almost blink in and out of existence like he isn't really there, just another trick of the Station like Ghost and her buddies.

airlock » so you wanna die young

(cw: blood, suicidal thoughts/actions)

He's standing at the airlock of Deck 2 punching in the code to get it to open to the inside of the ship with a glassy cast over his eyes. He's just wearing his jumpsuit, no gun, no hat.

"Come on, come on, pressurize-" he hisses at the damn thing, smacking it hard with the flat of his hand without realizing how much force he'd put into it. His palm comes back bloody, but he doesn't notice, gaze widening as he waits for the damn mechanism to work. The doors open and he slips inside, no vac suit, no ship in sight. He turns towards the corridor and reaches out to hit the button to close it and seal him inside, but his finger passes right through. He curses, tries again, same result. This place really doesn't want him to die. It wants him to suffer. "I have to die, it's the only way out. Just let me die."

He sounds desperate, disconnected. Eventually, he slumps to his knees in the open doorway and allows his helplessness to encompass him. If they had wanted to break him down, well congratufuckinglations, he's officially lost it. Without looking up, the next mag-boots he sees will get a dark laugh and a snarky request: "Wanna be a pal and space me already?"

[ wildcards are cool within reason, or if you want to catch miller before it gets this bad - he's obviously progressing from stage 1 into stage 2 & 3 P3. if you're not sure about anything you can hit me up here to plot! feel free to go the way of the bracket and i'll follow. ]

mess hall

[charlieoscar]

[There was a throbbing behind Mike's eyes and he was so tired he felt it in his soul. His cheek had fallen onto the knuckles of a propped hand - the other still feebly holding a loft a spoon - and he was listening to nothing more than his own steady breathing--

--Until the table jumped, silverware and trays scattering like kicked cats.

His eyes fly open and his head jerks up, gaze confused and dark.

It takes him a few seconds to put the scene together. Then he assumes it was his fault.]

You could have just said. I tried to tell you I wasn't company.

[pampa]

[ his gaze softens almost instantly, knowing mike must feel as shitty as he does. he's been barely conscious for the last little while. if miller could carry him he might try. ]

You should maybe run along too, partner. You aren't lookin' so hot.

[charlieoscar]

[He snorts - more air than feeling - and makes a show shifting and trying to straighten up.]

Feed a fever.

[... A beat. Then a frown.]

Or is it feed a cold?

[pampa]

...Drink to your health? [ neither of them need booze, but there's even a meek smile to go with it. he starts to peel himself up out of his chair. it's slow going and it looks like one hand stops working entirely - which is somewhat accurate. to miller it looks like his hand just went through the table and he gasps as his elbow hits the metal hard. jesus christ. ] Let's get the fuck out of here.

[ he says with a frown, rubbing at his elbow now with his "good" hand. ]

corridors

[rk800connor]

Connor is visible down the hallway. He's still, like a lifeless mannequin, looking more android than human at the moment. No human stood that still or that rigid.

The sound of Miller's voice actually 'wake' him. The fever, or rather his inability to cool his core properly had resulted in his systems going into an emergency shut down. He'd gone into a kind of stasis mode in the hallway and had been dormant until Miller came along.

He blinked a few times as Miller approached, LED a solid red. His temperature readings indicated everything was back to normal... except he was experiencing a lot of difficulty sending and receiving information from his limbs.

[pampa]

He blinks in at the exact spot Connor is and actually jumps. From his perspective he just appeared out of nowhere.

"Goddamn... microwave. You shouldn't sneak up on people like that! Jesus."

[rk800connor]

"... Miller? Detecti-" He blinked a few times. That wasn't right, the man had said he'd used to be a detective.

"I apologize, I'm experiencing some hardware and/or software malfunctions," The voice, his voice, sounded like a recording, tone helpful, polite and measured. A tone that didn't match his expression in the least bit.

Honestly, he was trying to run a self-diagnostic, unsure why he was having such a difficult time moving or even feeling his extremities.

[pampa]

"Well, I'm not a microwave technician so I don't know why you're telling me," he points out defensively, trying to cover for his own disturbance. Maybe if he just - makes a run for it. Wait. "Where's your detective guy? Lieutenant, whatever."

airlock

[patriotnow]

Ashford's legs are stiff, knees barely willing to give each time he takes a step. As such he's walking with a clumsy, stomping gait that, to add insult to injury, generally announces his arrival long before people can even see him. Because of this, Miller will likely hear him first and then see boots stepping out of time with on another before they slow to a stop.

Were he to look up he'd see exhaustion carved into the wrinkles and scars of Ashford's face.

Klaes makes a thoughtful noise in his throat.

"Ah..no.'

Then he takes another rigid step forward.

"Perhaps it will surprise you but I am not going to do that."

[pampa]

That voice does get him to look up, even as his vision swims unpleasantly.

"That doesn't surprise me at all. I'm sure you're loving the view right about now." Watching Joe Miller suffer? It must be Ashford's birthday, right?

[patriotnow]

An eyebrow arches and Ashford manages to move his shoulders enough for an indifferent shrug.

"Maybe...maybe not. You assume a lot of things, Josephus Miller."

However he's also not going to state either way if Miller is correct or not.

"But that is not why I will not do as you ask. I prefer not to, ah, well, not to use my time helping people give up."

Then he holds out one hand, palm downward before flicking it upwards in a small 'get off your ass' gesture.

"Get up. You are still needed."

[pampa]

That gets a hearty glare.

"Like you know anything about what these people need."

But Miller is attempting to get up, if only to be spiteful. He has to grab the handle of the inner door to do it, except then his hand phases right through and he ends up on his backside. Ow. What if he just lives here now? Does that work for Ashford?

time to wildcard

[subplot]

Miller's been on Karen's mind a lot since the whole illness thing settled in. She knows about his past and doesn't want anything to trigger the cancer to come back, or do anything that might harm his health in the long run. There isn't much she can do about his being sick, and she assumes he probably is because he looks like a three year old could bowl him over just by running into him. Worry eats at her, but not enough to force her out of bed, not until she totally loses track of time and ends up sending Frank to the mess hall to get her some food. Max is with him, otherwise she'd use him as a doggy walker to shuffle her way over to his door. As it is, she's just barely able to roll out of bed and slowly make her way out of her room and over to him in her pajamas and bare feet.

"Miller!" She sounds appropriately pathetic as she calls out to him. The thought of knocking is terrifying to her right now, since she doesn't want to end up hitting her hand too hard and causing any of those painful dark veins to burst and explode. "I know the code to your door- " A lie, but she doesn't care enough to try and pretend like she doesn't want him to get up and open the door right now. "Open up!"

[pampa]

Jesus, that was loud. The room is spinning, or maybe that's just his fever. He hasn't gone near booze since he polished off that gin with Alex. Nothing here could compare, so why taint something so perfect? That is definitely nosy neighbor Karen though and he sighs, loud and pronounced, hoping she can hear it even through the door.

"Nobody's home!"

[subplot]

"Bullshit!" She calls back, not giving up right away like she's sure he wants her to. It's easy to imagine him laying in bed in pain or worse, after what she's been through. It's easing up for her, but that doesn't mean it's doing the same for everyone. And given the way he sounds right now...

Well, it's a good thing she's here.

Since Karen is Karen, she starts trying to enter door codes to see if she can get his door to open for her. Maybe the sound of that will motivate him to get up and shuffle his way over to let her in. And if not, well maybe she'll manage to get lucky. It's about time she managed to guess another door code around this place.

[pampa]

He groans when he hears her start to punch numbers in, knowing she'll probably guess it before long. Finally, he just gives her the code through the door since he doesn't think he's solid enough to even get the door if he wants to, and he actually doesn't mind her having it in the end.

"Just... be quieter when you come in, ke?" he mutters lamely when the door opens at her behest. All the lights are off and he squints against the bright light of the corridor filtering in. He's propped up against the side of his bed, sitting on the floor in just his jumpsuit, only zipped halfway up his chest like he tried and just gave up. His hair is disheveled, a chunk of it falling into his eyes that he doesn't bother to move. "Are you sick too?"

airlock

[onlydoubts]

His legs are like lead, walking to the airlock. Every step falling with a metallic thud, with joints that barely want to move. Breathing quickly, despite the metal that's almost entirely started to encase his right side that makes it difficult to fully draw breath, Bodhi stumbles against the door and regards Miller with a wary look.

It's not even that he can't begrudge the feeling. He knows his fate - this isn't how he wants to meet an end, either, but...

Bodhi shakes his head. "That's not... that wasn't a part of the pact."

[pampa]

The familiar voice gets him to lean back on his legs, sitting up the best he can and flipping his head back to take Bodhi in.

"Really? Because I think this is exactly the kind of fucking day suicide pacts were invented for."

[onlydoubts]

"Seems like it, doesn't it." Bodhi sighs, letting his head drop to his chest and wincing at the clanking noise the movement makes. If they haven't found a cure in a few days he'll probably be completely metal - looking more like a droid than human.

Even that tiny bit of hope that hasn't been blown out is enough to cling to.

"But I'm not ready to give up yet, and neither should you."

cw: more suicide talk

[pampa]

The clang gets a mirroring wince from Miller, knowing what's happening to Bodhi is something he keeps seeing. Kovacs, Apollo... He sighs.

"My death was always supposed to be my choice. I know that's fucked up, that's not how most people go, right? They get- they get sick. Maybe not like this, but it's not so different. I got cancer, but I wouldn't let that keep me down either. I'd rather go out now, while I've still got some dignity left."

He knows it won't be so simple, everyone who's died so far has come back. And when he pats his breast pocket he remembers - Kovacs' sister's hair is in there. The one dead body this station has ever seen for more than a minute. He can't take the only piece of her out the airlock with him, and so he begins to try and get up. First, by leaning back onto his knees, then he's looking for something he can grab onto, steadily talking himself into reaching for the door handle. he has no idea if he can hold on long enough to get himself standing, but when has he ever given up? On some level, even through the mind fog, he knows Bodhi is right.

Miller throws his hand at the door desperately, gasping when it connects, his palm slapping the surface loudly. After that, it's a few tries until he can grip on, phasing through and vision failing him, but he's clawing his way up. He gets one foot under him, then another, and then he's shakily standing up, running quaking fingers back through his hair, damp with sweat from the effort. "There, satisfied?"

airlock

[twoaffirmations]

[When 9S sees Miller there in the airlock, his vision flickers with another malfunction. For a second he loses sight of him entirely, and he wonders if maybe he was too late, but then he reappears and his lips twitch, threatening to betray his feelings.

He knew exactly what Miller was trying to do, because he'd done the same thing just a few weeks prior. Honestly, he'd considered doing the same thing just now, as the fear of his infection turning hostile grew. But seeing a human there on his knees drew a pit in 9S' stomach, and he decided that while he was still functional, he should continue to do everything he can to help.]

Sorry M-miller, I can't do that. Let's... [He winces as he crouches down, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder.] g-g-go back inside.

[pampa]

[ he vaguely registers the voice as one he's spoken to on the network, his neck beginning the slow roll up so he can try and place it. the hand on his shoulder is grounding, makes him feel solid for however long it lasts. he reaches up reflexively, trying to take the other man's wrist. it holds for a whole moment and he feels like he's going to be alright, but then it predictably slips through, his hand smacking against the ground all over again. it hurts, but everything does so he doesn't even react. ]

Yeah, I think it's better if you just give up on me, kid.

[twoaffirmations]

[9S lets out a short gasp both as Miller's hand slips through him, and as his own passes through his shoulder entirely. He stumbles, barely managing to catch himself before he topples over completely.

Ignoring the setback, he shakes his head.]

That's not an opt-t-tion. We're all in this...t-together.

[pampa]

Sorry.

[ a whisper like it's his fault he's a fucking ghost. miller is just going to stay here forever what difference does it make? someone will eventually airlock him by accident if nothing else. ]

I guess the station opted me out. Permanently.