CLOSED PARALOGUE The Evrensel Conflict: Paralogue 2 -- Mystery in the Steel Belly

Wade Von Doom

All Caps when you spell the man's name
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. Speed of Light
  2. Multiple posts per day
Writing Levels
  1. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
Genres
Sci-fi, modern, horror, a bit of dark romance stories.
For a station as large as the Pathfinder, and for as many people that had been, or were still, held prisoner within its mechanical bowels, it was surprising how the hustle and bustle of the freed humans within it created a constant cacophony of noise to rival even the busiest of airports. Of these denizens, not everyone was a high-powered human, or a mechanical creature of immense power. Many people, if not the majority, were simply random humans from random worlds with random expertise's. Engineers and scientists, farmers and laborers, teachers and accountants, and so many more professions existed within the general population of the Pathfinder that at times it was hard to find the right role for the growing number of freed humans.

However, two things remained a constant.

First, there was always something to be done on the Pathfinder. Of the many hundreds of rooms and hallways, there was always something that needed to be figured out, sorted, cataloged, or otherwise handled in some professional sense. Everyone had a purpose, and those who didn't have a purpose either because they were too young, to old, or to mentally unsound, all had to be handled by a small number of caretakers from the general population. For a station that had a strange number of amenities given the prior owners, life was stressful, resources were perpetually low, and everyone was scared and overworked.

Thus, the second constant about life on the Pathfinder: The Bar.

The bar of the Pathfinder was a constant home for many adults coming back from a stressful work shift, or explorers coming back from a tiring reconnaissance into a deeper, unexplored section of the station, or perhaps even into a whole new universe. However, despite the bar being a cornerstone of the overall morale of the people of the Pathfinder, every bar suffered from the fact that it could get rowdy. Alcohol had a way of loosening the moral convictions of man, and thus inciting violence amongst the more troublesome humans of the Pathfinder. Thus, the most important rule of the Bar: you leave all weapons and problems at the door.

How was this rule enforced, especially in the light of the more…excessively powered humans? Some of the people aboard the Pathfinder came from military or security related backgrounds but were not superhumans or otherwise super-powered in any sense. Thus, because of this particular problem, this group banded together and took it upon themselves to police the bar and its patrons to prevent drunken fights from breaking out. Additionally, they also maintained a strict limit on alcohol sales to minors, despite the protests of the younger superhumans who came from universes where it wasn't a problem.

The real problem, however, was that some people couldn't really abide by the no-weapons rule, given that their "weapon" was something more internal to themselves, like a power of some sort. This, occasionally, led to a dangerous scuffle now and then between people who couldn't have their powers checked at the door. This was to say nothing of the more average bar fights that had to be broken up. However, because of this limitation, a situation like the one occurring at present was an inevitability of the area.

For any newcomers who were just walking into the bar, they would see a growing commotion between a strangely human looking cat and one of the superhumans who bordered on just being old enough to drink. The cat in question was more human-like than cat-like in appearance, and was standing on the bar. Behind it stood a specter of a cartoon-like man in a black coat and mask hovering behind it, rapier poised to stab the cat's current opponent. Across from the cat, also standing on the bar, was a dark-haired teenager in what looked like mixture between casual-wear and what many from western-oriented worlds would call "ninja-wear". In her left was a crackling fistful of lightning that chirped with all the grace and charm of a thousand chirping birds.

For those who had been in the bar long enough to see this fight begin, they would know that this issue had been one that had sprung up before in the last few days, as odds and ends had been disappearing for some time now. However, the constant questions and irritation surrounding this issue had finally reached a boiling point amongst some of the crewmembers of the Pathfinder, especially as the items veered away from inane and random, and more into the categories of personal and hard-to-replace.

"I swear to God, if you don't give me back my mechanical pencil, I'll fucking throttle your stupid little cat neck and give you permanent static fur problems!"

"I didn't steal your stupid pencil, and for the last time, I AM NOT A CAT!"

A voice piped out from a nearby table from a gnarly looking man who was covered in tattoos and scars, and who was nursing what looked like a cosmopolitan, "Hey! That's that cat that's always going on about being a Phantom Thief! I bet he's the one who stole my left sock!"

Another voice pitched in, this one from a woman who was multiple beers down, as evidenced by the bottles strewn across her table. "If he's stealing socks and pencils, he probably the one who stole all of my toilet paper!"

Indeed, the toilet paper situation on the Pathfinder was a large problem, one that required strict rationing and control by the powers that be.

The Cat's ears twitched in irritation at the growing number of people, and it turned its disturbingly large head to retort, but was stopped as the local bar security finally kicked in.

Six men and three women, all armed to the teeth with firearms from a variety of universes, arose from nearby tables or out from nearby corners. The leader of this small group, a man who claimed he was from a universe where humanity had achieved a means of getting out of Earth's solar system without faster-then-light travel, was a man on the verge of entering middle-age, but still being right before it, named Evan Lorne.

A well-mannered Major in his Universe's United States' Air Force, this man had bridged the differences of the various soldiers who had appeared on the station, and had formed an effective security brigade to police the general population of the Pathfinder.

"Alright everybody, let's take a nice big breath, and put away our…spooky magical powers…before things get worse." Despite his rather placid tone, the man didn't hesitate or falter as he kept his weapon firmly aimed at the girl with the obnoxiously loud lightning powers. Throwing around powers and abilities in the bar was frowned upon, but directly being a threat to another person on the Pathfinder was something that Lorne would not stand for, even from a young adult.

Said youth, however, simply snorted and shifted her body slightly, making herself a smaller target for the various weapon-wielding bar-guards, "…and what if I don't? Do you really think you normies could really take me?"

At this, every weapon that was at one pointed aimed at the cat shifted to being aimed at the girl, prompting the overall tension of the bar to skyrocket. It was an unspoken rule, given the dangerous situation they were all in, that violence against one another was harshly frowned upon. To outright threaten someone when one was clear-minded, however, was a whole new level of problematic for the humans on the Pathfinder.

"Really? That's the decision you make? Threaten me and my team over some alcohol and a mechanical pencil? Is this really the move you want to make?" Lorne's voice was incredulous and light, but the hard edge to the tone of his voice belied how seriously he was taking this particular situation. Above all else though, the tension was sky-rocketing, and some kind of intervention on either side was going to be needed to force the other side to step down.

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Thieving in Space
GM: @BlackRoseDova
 
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Otto Kadovah

The young Mandalorian had been mostly wandering the station, for Ami did not have anything she needed help with, and the surprise he had for her was still being cooked up and in no real way was near being ready.

The range proved to be a futile effort as most of the stations were filled and it’d just be a waste of shots. The sparring area was similar, either folks way outside his scope or far too inexperienced for the moves he knew, on top of filled spots that made it a bust also.

This led to him overhearing various complaints about missing items and accusations being thrown or mused about. This had led to Otto checking the ship he and Ami had built, the numerous safeguards showing no signs of tampering or attempted burglery. Otto’s own additions in tandem with Ami’s ingenious security features would ensure that anyone foolish enough to attempt to steal any of his possessions would be regretting their choice.

What Otto did find were strange footsteps leading around the station, barely visible using his helmet’s vision mode and very often led to dead ends. The hours spent diving into parts of the station that he was certain were still being mapped out, would eventually lead him to buy into the rumor that someone was indeed stealing items from the crew.

He sent in many inquiries about if the exploration teams had perhaps seen signs of a tribe deep within the depths of the station, or if they had seen peculiar figures not yet accounted for. All this was met with no reports of strange sightings or anything to prove his claims.

This ultimately kept him up at night and made him very paranoid to the extent that he would frequently patrol certain segments of the station or mark things with a chemical he could track. But those had yet to be explored when he passed the bar and heard the signs of a scuffle breaking out.

He personally would never drink, and as such he had no real reason to ever consider entering the space until now. The bouncers all gathered around a stand-off allowed him to walk in and not have to drop off his weapons.

The intervention needed was going to be a tough puzzle to crack, but one that Otto would quickly settle by throwing his wrist forward, aiming his wrist flamer in between the two groups and letting loose a torrent of fire to show a point that if such a fight were to break out, he could easily shower either side in flame.

This with the armor and hand on his blaster would hopefully help sell the idea that this would be settled enough for him to get some things straight.

“I’ve spent some time tracking folks around this station, I can confirm the thief is not the two on the table.” He said, hand still on his blaster in its holster and wrist flamer ready to go. “I’d also advise against thinking powers will save you against several ranged weaponry.” He added on, pointed at the words spoken by the one of the powered duo on the table.

@Epiphany @Wade Von Doom @Valkan @LenxKaitoYaoi @Apothecary Bruce @BlackRoseDova
 
Ryan Morganyag

With the chaotic mess that was this new station the group called home now, it has been a rather tiresome endeavor. Ryan didn't even had the chance to spend time with Luer, not enough, at least. He still felt terrible for how he had treated him that one time. It seemed like it was water under the bridge now, but one can never be too sure. Ryan still hadn't built up the courage to ask Luer if he wanted to share a room with him again.

Ryan wanted to show his boyfriend how sorry he was, even if he said it was fine. Luer would always say something like that to not incite anything. He looked around for Luer in the station guided by his smell, and on a larger scale, through his connection to the Blood Dragonstone Ryan made for him. Contacting him through ANNA didn't feel right. In other words, he was too nervous to simply talk to him instantly. The walking helped ease his mind.

Finally finding him, Ryan stood awkwardly at a distance "H... Hey there. Wanna go for a walk?" How things went from there would be up to Luer. Still, both of them took a stroll through the station, with Ryan being unusually quiet. Eventually, the couple arrived at the bar. "Why don't we go for a drink?" Ryan suggested. He wasn't getting anywhere like this, which sparked the concern he had towards Morgan. As a retainer of hers, he was even more ashamed.

Ryan ordered two pints of mead, downing one in record time. Booze servings were rather generous, so it did slow his mind a bit. Ryan has been having trouble with calming himself with meditation, he couldn't quite ease himself with just that for a while now. He hated needing a drink to relax, but at the moment he didn't have a quick way to relax and properly talk to Luer. "You... We haven't talked a lot since we were on the cliff" Ryan sighed, his nerves evident on it. "So, how have you been?"

Before he could get a deeper talk with Luer though, a loud discussion that turned into a standoff occurred. Two people were discussing missing objects of theirs. It ended up with the bouncers aiming their weapons at one of the troublemakers. Otto came out of nowhere and intervened. Ryan didn't doubt the Mandalorian's skill, but to leave the matter to him alone felt wrong. So he took a sip of mead, dropped a warmer "I'll be right back" on Luer, and in the blink of an eye, he stood between the two discussing parties. holding a hand in each direction. "Now, now. Easy everyone. I trust Otto here to be onto something, so why don't we all relax before someone does something they'll regret."
 
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A new station meant new ways for Luer to get lost and more damn buzzing noises around him. He was damn near sure this one was louder than the last two, and in some false hope he explored the place to try and find a new room with the smallest amount of that cursed feeling and sound in it. Alas, he had yet to find one. Though, a room to retreat to was not the only thing he sought out. His other quarry was just as elusive though, should the hearsay be true. He could only hope.

With no luck yet though on either of his endeavors, he was pleased to run into someone by chance, as the dragon called out to him. He tilted his head at the way Ryan stopped and stuttered. He shook it off though and moved closer to the dragon with a smile. "Hey." He chuckled to the suggestion of a walk. He had been walking all morning. "Sure." He responded regardless. He would have continued walking regardless in his searching so he had no protests. Besides, he and Ryan had not been able to talk much of late after getting back together- a decision he had been criticized for. He saw no reason for it though. It actually pissed him off…

He was mostly going about small talk every now and then as the two walked, up until they stopped by the bar. He gave an unsure look to his boyfriend when he suggested they get a drink. Ryan knew as well as the archer did what a drink could do to him. Perhaps he will settle for something non-alcoholic… He did not deny the dragon though, following him to a corner of the bar where they got their drinks. Seeing how fast his partner drowned his drink, the archer slid his to him and chuckled. "I think it best I not be drinking, lest we find ourselves naked somewhere less favorable."

Luer hummed at the question, going to answer with his recently learned whispers of another curse bearer. Alas, the every rowdy nature of a bar was not the place for speaking without interruption. He turned instead to the argument as it got more heated and security became involved, looking rather unamused. He had heard of the missing things, too, and it had left him reason to sleep with his bow in hand more often than usual these days. He would be damned to have someone steal it.

Still, when Ryan got up to intervene his brow furrowed as he watched. He knew he could not stop the dragon from running into a fight— it was not as if Ryan could stop him from doing so either, making it unfair of him to try the same. But still he worried. He would intervene as well, but this was far from anything he was decent at. So instead he would observe and be the healer on standby if it were needed.
 
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In the corner of the bar sat a man in an odd costume - though by the standards of such an eclectic station, a man in a mixture of cutting edge black ops gear, ninja garb and circus strongman outfits might not be the weirdest thing onboard. The only thing he had ordered was water in a wine glass, specifically. The man had not failed to notice how no one bat an eye much at him, what with actual human-animal hybrids in plain sight. Still, he kept his long cape draped around him, covering the symbol of the bat brazenly sprawled on his chestpiece.
The Batman hadn't done much, not yet. Writing in his journal, he listed a variety of questions, a plan to follow.
'1. Find out what brought me here, and why.
2. See if anyone else was brought along.
3. Test what's new here. See if my skills are still worth anything, and if not, then how to adapt.'


Batman wasn't new to the feeling of being a fish out of water. He was a rich kid, with money and issues, in a world of superhumans, gods and true evils. But, if nothing else, he was resilient and persistent. 'Metahumans seem common. Powers haven't overcome firearms yet though. No Supermen here that I can find.'
Suddenly, he stopped writing, and raised his head. Before taking a sip of water from his glass, he spoke softly. "Superman. If you can hear this, come sit at my table. We've got to discuss." He finished his water, and placed the cup down. He looked ahead, as if to meet the eyes of someone who wasn't there.
After thirty seconds passed, Batman pulled out his journal again. 'Superman isn't here. If I want heavy hitters from home, I'd have to find them. Put in backburner.' Batman continued to observe the bar scene, trying to dissect who was who, and if anyone meant anything. He had little to go off except for intuition and experience - he had to hope people were still people, no matter the setting. Many of the people here are armed, overarmed. This isn't a military facility. Which means at least a few of these people are criminals. I can work with criminals.

His eyes passed over each and every patron. 'The young man in the blue hair. Would fit in the Gotham East End with little issue. A little more cleanly, and innocent looking, but that doesn't mean much. The bow looks real, and he looks fit - likely trains enough to use it.'
'The thug in the shining armor - sits with confidence. Not bombastic, but silent and ever-present. Built himself to impose. Wrist-mounted device, could be gas attack, flamethrower, something more esoteric. Plenty of gear. Likely not superpowered.'
'Swordsman with the archaic garb. Horns suggest supernatural origins. Superpowered. He's the one to look out for. Too close to the Demon's Head for comfort.'


He hadn't gotten any farther before tensions with a small cat-person boiled over. Quickly, the situation had deteriorated until nearly everyone in the bar was on edge, or had their guns out. Mental notes, the warrior - Otto, the other one said - is prone to show off and make himself the center of attention, even if he can't handle it. Either a sense of pride in his skills, a sense of trust in his equipment, or, if he has none, trying to make up for having no significant powers by acting confidently enough to discourage anyone from calling his bluff. Still, if his claim about tracking people on the station isn't a bluff, he's smarter than I previously thought. I have to respect the persistence, and he's bound to have surprises.
The swordsman lived up to my expectations - placing himself in the middle of harms' way, despite the arrival of security, with little concern. Could likely take a bullet, or otherwise ignore guns. Don't punch unless I have to.
The archer is quick to enter an engagement, and is close to the swordsman. Either the archer is better than I expected with that bow, or more likely he's confident in the swordsman's ability to protect him. Wild card.


Batman stood up, carefully sliding himself next to the archer, his steps making no sound despite the firmness and material of his boots. Underneath his cloak, his grappling hook had been prepared, with its claw attachment - meant for non-lethal disarmament and pulling an enemy closer - useful if anyone starts shooting. Start with the armored one first. Best not to engage fully - sweep the leg, use the weight of that armor to crash him into his table. Before he recovers, move to the security team. One by one, disarm and strike. If the swordsman engages, don't hurt the archer - even though it might throw him off, its too underhanded a tactic for innocent people. Of course, Batman didn't move to enact this plan immediately, instead he waited to see how the situation resolved itself.
 
"Well, one of you bastards definitely stole my Ferrier vintage Port '45! You know how rare that bottle is?! It costs nearly fifteen thousand these days!" A VERY slurry and drunken voice cried out from at the far end of the bar, as the overweight man angrily shouted about his missing bottle.

"Boyle, no one stole it, we saw you drink it twenty minutes ago!" Another voice at the other far end of the room shouted back.

"That so? Or is it that you all can't admit that you have a problem!? BEEEEEELCH!~" The man belched loudly across the room, before then falling off his stool backwards and landing on the ground with a loud thump, before everyone could then hear him snore loudly.

"I'd had to agree with our man in the armor!" Yet another voice called out, this one along the table closest to Otto. It was a small man in a crumpled beige suit, off-white shirt, scuffed boots, green/brown tie and, of course, the shabby raincoat. All while taking a puff from a cheap green cigar he always had on hand whenever people saw him. Ryan would recognize him, having met him in this same bar when he and a few others were taken here to cut a deal with The Man You Do Business With, to go back to their homes and never be bothered again with this multiverse shenanigans.

voUkZ-1610729947-1596-lists-columbo_negativereaction.jpg
Yet, as out of place as he was in this place, and that was saying a lot, considering the literal thousand people who were brought here, he stayed and kept himself in the background. Until now.

"The thief's pattern, as random as it may seem, isn't valuable enough for one such as our fellow Phantom Thief here. It's minor things, stuff you would find at thrift stores. And, outside the toilet paper, would be things only the individual would notice. And with a place like this full of much more valuable items, why take items of such little worth financially?"
 
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Ryan Morganyag

It seemed like Ryan's words went on deaf ears, as the people engaged in the standoff didn't budge an inch. Though the overall tension in the bar lightened up when an alcoholic by the name of "Boyle" made a fool of himself in his heavily inebriated state.

Some light was shed into the situation when a familiar face took his turn to speak, "Lieutenant Columbo" he greeted the man respectfully. He showed off his skill in investigating as he planted a small theory based on what little he knew. The most likely case is that what he mentioned is all he knew, but he said it with resolve and lacking doubt. Which just might cut it for this particular situation... For now at least.

"Cause hostility among the residents of the station? Like now?" Ryan inquired. He kind of jumped the gun and looked at the parties involved in the standoff "For now though, like I said before. Everyone relax. We will not catch the thief if we just attack each other at random because of paranoia. So, let's all put our weapons down. Nice and slowly." as he repeated his order, he used a more commanding tone, but he also showed an example by relaxing his arms to his sides, just the way he expected the heated people to follow.

"And please, someone take Boyle to... wherever he sleeps" he finalized with a sigh.
 
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~~GM~~

A few seconds of silence fell in the bar, yet as the sense moments passed, the youth intimidating the cat-like creature threw up her arms slowly and backed away. One by one, the others in the bar followed suit, with Boyle being picked up by the large fellow in the back with the scars and tattoos.

"Don' cry for me, I'm already dead~" Boyle mumbled out to everyone, before letting out another large BEEEEELCH!~

"Whew~... Thanks!" The cat said to Ryan and co.

"Yeah well, don't be givin' those out just yet," Lorne spoke up, holstering his weapon against the front of his uniform. "We still have a thief on our hands. And if it isn't you, then we have a hundred dozen people on this station that are prime suspects. And if you and the Lieutenant are right, then maybe this is all to stir up trouble for something bigger."

"Then we got our work cut out of us, huh?" Columbo added, walking over to the group to discuss further plans. "What's your name?"

"Major Evan Lorne of the US Air Force." Lorne introduced himself.

"No kidding! Oh, it's an honor, Major, been a very long time since I last met a fighter pilot," Columbo complimented.

Lorne couldn't help but crack a small smile at it, "Thanks,"

"I was in the army myself! During Korea, but nothin' as impressive as fighter piloting, I was just in KP really," Columbo would've gone on, but more important matters were at hand, "But, that's another thing. Right now, we should think about a good strategy in finding our crook."

"I can help!" The cat chipped in. "If it'll just help clear my name."

"Could use the eye of a thief to find out how the other thief did it. If you ain't plannin' on stealing anything while we search?" Columbo asked.

"If I wanted to steal something here, it would have been a lot bigger and more shiny than toilet paper and pencils!" Morgana cried out, a little annoyance in her voice.

"Then I'll take your word for it," Columbo told her, still cracking his own little smile. "Major, could you bring us to where the thefts happened?"

"Sure, I can get my men to set up a crime scene or two." Lorne answered.

"Perfect! All those wanting to find our thief, follow us. Everyone else... Well, keep doin' what you're doin'." With a little smile, he waved to all the bar patrons, and followed Lorne's lead to the scene of the crimes.

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The structure of the station at the top was what you would think of a typical space station set up. A command deck, with various spaces for storage, quarters, server rooms, even a small hanger with an airlock. While each of the 'rooms' weren't actually rooms, more just empty spaces created by the station's ever flexible layout, they could at least be accommodating. The lower levels, however, offered less of such comfort.

To go down was like venturing through a labyrinth of walls that could change on a dime and crush some unfortunate soul without warning. It looked and felt like brutalist architecture, making everything look and feel lifeless with a strong mood of existentialism among many of the awakening inhabitants. The lighting was minimal, the shadows long and creeping, and those walking around seemed aimless. They were now being told the multiverse, once a concept to many in their reality, was real, and there was a slim chance of returning home. Lorne's men had done well to set up some semblance of order, and those who volunteered to help wanted to make things less bleak

But many had the look of utter dread and nihilism. A pessimism from the lack of familiarity, and no sense of direction as to what to do now. Many others looked out the corners of their eyes with aggravation or anxiety of those around them, like there was a sense of a fight about ready to break out between two strangers for no reason than the bottled up motions from what had become of them. It made figuring out the thefts all the more important if such a feeling turned into rioting and looting, or something much worse.

Lower and lower they team went until finally reaching the lowest they could go through the various elevators and shafts. They were at the halfway point of the station, but access to the bottom was still unreachable thanks to the complexity of the station's systems. Walls blocked people off as the station was still fixing itself after the takeover, and only a few so far even attempted to try and open things up. Engineers, tech experts, even some computer hackers tried to find ways to open up more available paths, but to no avail.

"Our latest theft came from up a level. Someone said they saw someone else stealing bootlaces, but when they tried calling out to them, the thief ran off and our witness chased after. They both came down here, but the thief turned a corner, and suddenly they were gone. My team's been trying to see if maybe someone managed to find a way past the walls into the locked off sections." They could see pathways, but they only went to dead ends. Yet, there was visible scraping against the flooring, like the walls could be moved. But how was the question.

"Haven't quite figured out how yet..." Lorne finished saying, rubbing his hand against the walls. The visible creases of where each wall panel touched gave off a cool feeling, like a breeze passing through. Meaning, these walls were airtight. They also felt like a different texture of metal compared to the upper levels. Multi-layer insulation of metal to ensure a perfect airtight seal, while these walls were alloyed steel.

"Jeeze, it's cold down here," Columbo mentioned aloud, huddling up inside his coat some more as his cigar smoke became even more thick. The temperature felt below freezing down here, around thirty degrees Fahrenheit. And for whatever reason, as he naturally started investigating where the cold draft was coming from; puffing out cigar smoke against the wall absent-mindedly, some of that smoke poured through the very small crack between the panels, leaking into whatever was behind them.

Until finally, BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!

Like a fire alarm going off all around them. Columbo jumped, unsure of what just happened or what he did, but the walls started to shift. They began to open, and out poured cold vapors of cryogenic mist, until several pods began to slowly push outwards onto the ledge. Just like above, there were people inside these pods, put into stasis sleep for whatever reason. The difference, however, were the ones in these pods seemed to be 'melting.'

Bodies of strangers, floating within blue liquid that was dissolving away their bodies. Pieces of human skin could be seen slowly peeling off, before disintegrating into the fluid itself, but a few of the inhabitants looked to still be alive.
 
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Batman inspected his surroundings with an ever keen eye. He was no stranger to impossible, alien surroundings, and while he could clearly tell many of the people onboard the station had lost their hope due to this permeating strangeness, the dark knight remained steady. It was most often the familiarity in the strangeness that he could latch onto. It didn't matter if his enemies bore green skin or boasted interstellar empires instead of street gangs - their motivations always remained the same. Those with power wanted more. Those with power considered themselves above normal, 'lesser' people, and weren't afraid to step on them if it came to it.

So who was he dealing with? Someone with power, or someone desperate to gain power for the first time? Even if they had the resources and technology to build this multiversal nexus-station, that didn't mean they were the people on top. Given the people they were gathering on their station, it stood to reason that they somehow still had relevance to this being. If they wanted somebody like Columbo or himself, clearly they were not so much above human beings that they couldn't be understood or, if it came to it, fought. Else, they could've transported Superman, Wonder Woman, or any of the more godlike superheroes of Earth.

Batman's suit was insulated from the cold, mostly. It only went so far, but it was enough to keep his body from growing rigid and slowing down. He had been inspecting the walls, both with standard practice techniques and the advanced scanning software in his cowl, but while he was developing his theory, Columbo somehow opened up the walls. He didn't both taking out his pen - the ink was frozen - so instead he made several mental notes, and promised to himself he'd remember to write them down later.
Cold drafts emanating from walls. Walls must be hiding compartments, be they maintenance accessways, ventilation or full rooms. All of which would be useful to the people onboard. The key to opening these areas might be thermal-based; given Columbo's success with cigar smoke, and the overall frigid temperatures, thermal locks would be enough to keep anyone out who wasn't pre-prepared. The lack of many flammable substances onboard the station would further restrict unwanted intruders from reaching more secret areas. Simple, yet effective.

Batman watched as the walls retracted, revealing the pods. His scanners saw through the liquid and glass, spotting two people still alive. One seemed to be a small child, while another was a young female. Both seemed human. His database couldn't give him their names, but he knew enough. "We have to get them out of there," he declared, approaching the capsules. The alien technology was far too complex for him to decipher quick enough to save their lives. The chemical composition of the liquid was acidic or toxic enough to dissolve skin tissue, but not so acidic it had killed them immediately. "Stand back. I'm going to open their pods," he warned his companions, before retrieving a small device from his belt. It was similar to a glue gun in appearance, but clearly was a far more advanced tool. He traced the pod's edge, leaving behind a semi-translucent substance. "Thermite paste," he began to explain. "It's my working theory this facility - or this section of it - reacts to heat the same way a key might open a lock. I don't know if the paste when ignited will be enough to open the pod, or if my theory is correct, but if it is, we should have more options available to us."

Finally, he outlined two pods, stepped back, and thumbed the activator key. The trail of paste suddenly burst into sparks and flame, like a criminal was cracking a safe. Batman smiled inwardly. He always was a reflection of what he faced. Familiarity in the strangeness.
 
Summer vacation was here! Kanna Kamui knew just how to spend it. Summer meant outside. Summer meant bugs. Summer meant cicadas, her favorites! They had such a loveable zest and crunch, she would do anything to hunt one down.

Once her large blue eyes connected with a cicada in the tree, Kanna got on her belly and snuck; this was something she watched stray cats do. She tried not to think about how unhappy Lady Tohru would be over her grass stains. An expert at being quiet, she kept creeping forward, forward, forward. She licked her lips in anicipation of her latest snack. Once she was close enough, she slipped one more inch forward, and-Ooh!

Catching her enormous paw right away, the cicada stopped feeding and flew away. Kanna was incensed. It looked so plump and tasty! She could go and catch another bug, but her failure to catch this one would stick in her mind. She looked around; No one would be watching if she unfolded her wings. Two feathery white wings sprouted from her back, and she shoved herself into the air after her cicada.

If only she knew how vulnerable she'd made herself! Within a breath, she was swallowed by a neon green light, and felt her mental faculties quickly powering off. She couldn't scream to anyone for help.

And now, she was here. Well, she didn't know she was here. It was pretty hard to know where you were if you were unconscious. Oh, well, it was better for a young mind not to know she was in imminent danger of being dissolved like a fly in a pitcher plant. Her little lilac tail curled around her body, and her eyes were closed in her usual, serene expression. Her wingtips were already beginning to tear apart in the fluid, loose skin lifting around her little white horns.
 
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Reegan pulled up the rear as they navigated the cold dead spaces deeper down though faint creaking from beneath the dark skin of her arms. This place was not a creation of the cycle and seemed as much an enemy as it could be anything else. The souls here could pick up on the place with so little life in it and the dour feelings were building up in them all she thought. So as she went her long floral hair quivered and regrew in long sheaves of pastel green. Every so often she'd spy a place to anchor the epiphyte moss in and detached a bit of her hair to stuff it in corners for small roots to flex and anchor there underneath her prodding.

She remarks at the thefts, "The place moves and flexes but it spares nothing for anyone. There's little to foster life here at all so I cannot blame one for taking these small things. Their knowledge is far more valuable than their punishment."

As the temperature further dropped toward freezing temperatures the frigid air showed the breath of others. Hers did not but followed all the same something rose her great reaper's ire the closer they went. A hand that regrew thin armor as gloves of birch bark to grip railings and ledges with a defiant ire. Handprints painted lichen on dusty metal surfaces with no soil though light well enough. Perhaps they would find a way to persist out of spite. As they finally got to the area below freezing that dire feeling grew deeper and she couldn't think of any green things that could live in this place so very dark.

She looked over Colombo's shoulder as he inspected a crack in the wall and stepped back as alarms shouted and the walls started to open, "Oh, what is this?" The sense of the souls being dismantled here became readily apparent as walls disgorged tubes and the reaper raged inside though Reegan herself looked about to say with quiet horror, "What have they done?"

Batman set quick to work and Colombo's mind set to thought but Reegan wasn't that kind of solver. She put a hand on Colombo's shoulder and reached over to pluck his cigar away said to him and batman, "I need to borrow this. Colombo, Batman, free them before they are dissolved. I can buy you time."

littlekreen_black_and_silver_cigar_with_lit_red_coals_resemblin_9d0b33dd-bed4-44c1-9293-8a4b0290d281.png
The tall reaper with stiff hair growing frost walked closer to the center of the tubes and fixated her gaze on the cigar. It started to change color as the wrap around the cigar turned a black and silver fleur de lis pattern with blood red symbols inscribed on it. The lit end taking the familiar three-hole shape of a human skull as she peered at what she empowered as the reaper's weapon.

She put it to her mouth and with one hand on the hips of her long dress took a long drag for the skull end to flare in light and bass growl. Though her chest seemed to have barely inhaled she breathed out a plume of dark fog that crawled along the floor by a voice that might rattle one's bones by its nature rather than volume, "Dinokqolaas Qahnaar Kriin"¹​

Quietly smoking the cigar that didn't seem to diminish the reaper in long purple dress took another drag to breathe another gout of black to crawl along the floor. Holding the dissolving at bay at a cost of herself. Giving the others time to repair damage that made a body unable to support life. Or at least giving any souls too broken by the process the light of a soul carin to escape toward.

Faint sparks of red showed in the short spanish moss of her head whenever she took a drag with ashy shards of her body flaking off said between drags, "Work quickly."

1) reaper [death herald] denies slaughter
 
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Ryan Morganyag

With a sigh, Ryan walked along the group as they made their descent deeper into the station. Loosely following a tip, the group ended up in a very... machine-like area. It was cold down there. Enough to be a mild hindrance. Knowing that the AI could simply throw them a surprise attack, he exerted a small fire shield around himself, the shield manifested itself as a bunch of embers flowing about the surface of his clothes and skin. This heat was very controlled, so it spread around only a small distance and providing moderate heat. A touch warmer than usual, if one were to have had the experience of direct contact with Ryan.

Eventually he saw Columbo trigger some strange pods to pop out the walls. Shocker, more hostages for "experimentation", which was ultimately just a fancy way to say either "torture" or "execution". If not both. Regardless, That made the bat guy figure out the way to open them, while Reegan was somehow saving the souls within the pods, as she smoked a cigar. Regular Reegan behavior. As she hurried the group on opening them. Ryan nodded "Stay clear of the blasts" he warned. Flipping backwards and forming a pair of radiant wings entirely made of fire. Ryan extended them along with his arms. A rain of feathers shot forward in a surprisingly organized formation. Using a similar amount of force to the bat fellow in each pod, not wanting to harm any further the goo survivors, if there were more than the two bat guy freed. Though he did add some oomph to his attack to completely free the targeted victims of the pods

He took a quick glance at them, one of the rescued was a kid... But, the wings, the horns, the tail, the smell. Was she a dragon!? His eyes went wide in shock, could it be there's finally one of his kind here? Even with the crowd that came with the station, dragons were rare. Rare, as in, he only saw himself, the dragonblood, and one guy who had a faint scent of dragon blood, as well as Luer for some reason. He should ask him one day what's up with his draconic traces. The rest of them were reptilians, but not quite holding the semblance of a dragon, as if their race and his were cousins that took different evolutionary paths.

Placing that thought aside, Ryan kept an eye on the pods to check the status of the prisoners.
 
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With the hole in her pod, the fluid dribbled out right quick. The child sank down with it until she was pressed against the hole, exposing some of her back and wings. The fresh air, combined with the fluid no longer covering her eyes and mouth, allowed her to regain consciousness.

She was no longer outside, that was for sure. She was staring at some kind of metal or glass wall, with some residue sticking to it. Her wingtips were sore, and her scalp had a combination of soreness and itchiness. Though she didn't scream, cry, or whine, she definitely stiffened and whimpered. She pushed herself off the hole, allowing the rest of the fluid to leak out, then turned to the strangers.

She fully expected to see Tohru smiling at her, so when she instead saw a tall man in an all black cloak scowling at her, she cowered. Her wings pulled over her body and face with her tail curling around to protect them. Her crystalline blue eyes were shrunken down. Strangest of all, her body began to sparkle with static electricity-a clear warning to these people, should they have been her kidnappers. Finally, she produced a few meek words in a soft voice.

"Who are you? I want to go home..."
 
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Luer got up to follow the others through the maze of this damn station. Of course he and Ryan could not just enjoy a drink together. After their recent trip to his home the archer had been content to just share a mild drink and decompress. When they got to the lower level with the doors, he stuck closer to Ryan. It was cold and he was far from dressed for it. Ryan also was a little warmer than even the archer was used to.

He was only half paying attention to whatever the hell Columbo was doing, but the moment the alarm buzzed he jolted to attention, reaching for his bow. The last thing he expected were pods to emerge with people inside them. “Shit...” He grimaced at what he could see, which was a disturbing sight. How long have they been here? It brought back thoughts of what he imagined might have been them before in the prison… Is that possible? Were these people there before them?

It mattered not. The black clad man with the annoyingly gruff voice jumped into action and Luer clenched his jaw. As much as he wanted to help rescue them, he would do better focusing on helping those still alive and needing help. He let his bow go in favor of taking the healing role here, and as Ryan and Batman started freeing the poor people trapped he moved to be in better position to take them, starting with the child who was so clearly scared of Batman- he did not blame her. "I can heal, bring her down to me." He called up. She was alive, and while he was unsure just how much of the damage he can heal, he was going to do as much as he could.
 
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Where can she begin? The judgement day. She could feel Malphistes tremble, the nature of fear against the things descending down engraved deep in its soul. The things that never even cared to ever descend unto the humans, not a single effort to bring humans out of this undeserving apocalypse. Instead, they made their descent of glory at the final moments.
There was a bright flash of light, but she was still standing where she was. Except, there was an uncontrollable rage inside her. After a long time of bland, systematic fights for struggle, it was a new sensation to feel something as extreme. But soon a part of her mind was engulfed with fear. This rage didn't belong to her- but rather the demons that her body was made of. Disgusting, vicious whispers clouded her mind and moved her limbs. Blades unleashed from her arms bigger than ever as she jumped into the sky.

...

Zoe, almost instinctively, unleashed her consuming organs. A straight line formed momentarily on her arms and legs before spitting out blades of flesh and bones, the slits sealing as quickly as they appeared. She stumbled forward as air entered her formerly liquid filled lungs, bonking her head lightly against the glass before her. She tried to adjust to the new lighting around her, while trying to keep control of the wave of rage still lingering in her guts. It was an unpleasant, overwhelming feeling.
"Malphistes."
No answer. Usually he would've appeared and said something not even comedic to make his presence known. Was everything just a sick dream while she was in this.. whatever it was? No, she could still feel the bone blades on her limbs. She punched the glass before her, the consuming organ on it stretching forward to punch with it. The obstacle moved quite easily, as if someone had cut the hinges off of it. The severed part of the pod was pushed forward as she saw a handful of silhouettes standing before her. Her eyes were strangely taking long to adjust, so she couldn't make out the details in a split second.

If everything was not a dream, and she had been separated from the useful companion, not to mention her weapons(she could feel her empty pockets), then this was one of those sick jokes demons liked to pull. She decided to stop thinking too hard, and charged at the closest thing she could take a stab at. That is, Batman.
Of course, this was but a sloppy telephone punch for the detective. As much as Zoe was enhanced thanks to demon tissue, she was not quite in shape at the moment.
 
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Before Zoe's capsule burst open, the variety of scanners within Batman's cowl had detected several organic growths sprouting from her body, before in the end retracting. When Zoe did exit her pod and took a swing at Batman, the dark knight was quick to react. If it were a normal human being trying to attack him, Batman would've had his pick of thousands of ways to incapacitate her, but thankfully he knew not to underestimate the recently freed metahuman.
He ducked, swinging himself under her arm. In a blur of motion and flowing fabrics, Batman threw out bolas at Zoe, which promptly struck and tied her legs together. Before she could even fall naturally, Batman had drawn his grapple gun and, setting the tool to its less powerful person-pulling function, pulled her to the ground forcefully.

"She's not human, not fully," he said, not a thorough explanation but it would make due given the surprise combat.
 
The figure Zoe charged at disappeared at an instant. All she saw was the flow of cape in the air before her legs were tied together with unexpectedly great force. She was immediately knocked off balance, and before she could attempt anything to recover, another tug pulled her down face first to the floor. Now she was staring at the floor feeling nothing but pain and confusion. Her chest was heaving from the
"What..."
She croaked as she sat there flat on her face.
"...else would I be?"
It was a weak complaint, but that was all she could do at the moment. The slam against the floor helped her cool her head. Unless these strangers tried to kill her immediately, she could play along and assess the situation. If it was the former, well.. she hoped her unarmed fighting was good enough to survive the encounter.
"What's going on here? Where am I?"
She asked as she held her arms into the air to show no means of harm. The blades coming out of her limbs slowly pulled themselves back in, sealing the slit on the limbs like they were never there.
"I got hot headed for a moment."
 
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Ryan Morganyag

After busting open and letting the dissolving liquid drain from each pod he saw, he turned his attention to the group. It would seem like the small dragon girl needed some attention. Ryan shrunk down his wings to not harm anyone, but still provide the warmth of fire to those nearby. As the bat person dealt with a not so willing to be rescued zombie looking woman, Ryan knelt in front of the small one. She was clearly scared and confused, a trend with the people from these capsules, it seemed.

Ryan was not that good with kids, going from absolutely terrified by him in his first home world, to admired from a distance in his second one. He never had the chance to interact with them. But a long time as a member of this resistance against the AI has passed. Times changed. With that in mind, he softly spoke "Hi there. I'm Ryan, a... warrior from a distant land. Right now, we are both quite far from where we came from. I'm sorry, but return you home is not possible for us..." He offered a smile regardless "In the meantime, why don't we get you patched up?" still smiling, Ryan extended his hand "You know my name, but what about you? What's your name?"
 
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~~GM~~

Lorne's men were busy opening up the other pods, seeing if perhaps the others were still alive, even with Batman's scans of the decaying bodies. Columbo, meanwhile, baffled by Reegan stealing his cigar to do.... the weird things she usually does, took his coat off and tried to wrap it around Kanna to help warm her up in the frigid environment.

"Delta team, come in," Lorne began contacting the closest unit to their position over radio, "we need medical and some engineers down in the lowest section. We found pods with bodies in them, they're being dissolved in some sort of blue liquid. We may have more like them down here, over."

"Copy, we'll head down now--"

From nowhere, a spear shot out of nowhere; piercing through the abdoment of one of Lorne's men and pinning him against the pod electronics. It was only the loud gasp he let out that would get everyone's attention, along with the beeping C4 explosive stuck on the other end of the spear.

"Everyone back, now!" Lorne shouted to the group, immediately back stepping from the C4, but it was too late. It detonated within seconds, and the explosion was immense at such short range to the team. Whether it killed any of them or not didn't matter. What mattered was what happened after.

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

The alarm rung out once more, but this time the walls of the corridor began to close in. The platform they were on also began to retract backwards, sliding into the walls, so they could fall into the crevasse and likely be crushed like trash in a compactor. The pods as well were detached from the openings, before they began to quickly close back up.

Lorne, who was closest to the blast, was thrown backwards by it, and... Well, now a mangled mess without a pulse. Along with two others of his team.
 
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Kanna thudded her tail against the floor. Big man. Big winged man. Scary man. Possible dragon-slayers. She watched the woman who had been held with her lash out at the cloaked person, which only worsened the little dragon's thoughts. Were they supposed to be fighting? Was this one of those death tournaments humans sometimes performed back in her old old dimension? To fight, in Kanna's mind, would be a betrayal of her status as a Spectator.

With the soreness finally registering, she began to nibble at her dissolved feathers, trying to preen them into something more presentable. She scratched at the exposed fresh skin on her head. "Uncomfy. I'm dying..?" She complained gently. Getting it on her tongue seemed to make it worse, causing her to flinch her head back and hiss, flicking her tongue on the air. The taste was utterly vile.

"My name is Kanna Kamui," she finally explained, "I wanna go home. I want Lady Tohru. Humans aren't supposed to know that I'm a dragon..."

As a jacket was draped around her body, Kanna sat upright and started preening again. She wasn't necessarily cold, but anything to simulate a hug was very welcome. "I'm from Japan." She said. "Where am I now? Is Lady Tohru coming to get me?"

And then, before her little mind could register it, an explosion rattled the entire room. It scared sparks out of her as she scampered to find safety. The walls were closing in like an ancient dragon-trap!
 
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