[Mostly Open] So we'll press, and press 'til you can't take it anymore!

[groupiedrifter]

CHARACTERS: Precursors and you. And Eventually Newton. Hopefully!
LOCATION: A holding room in Ximilia Station.
DATE: Est. two days post-mission, after the kaiju is defeated and the orb is retrieved.
CONTENT: The precursors are revealed — and are finally removed from Newt's mind.
WARNINGS: Possession and the bodily autonomy issues that come with that. More will be added if necessary!

Closed and opened starters will be added as I go, which will be announced on plurk! But if you don't use plurk or would rather keep an eye out by email/tracking, feel free to use the tracking option and mark to receive notifs any new top level comments posted to this log! The log will involve an open starter to visit the precursors where they're cuffed/contained in the room, so stay tuned.

Also no rush once the open starters are posted!

Feel free to focus on the player plot log first and come back to this later.

CLOSED STARTER | THE DOCTOR
DARKLING'S TOP LEVEL | WHILE NEWT WAS SLEEPING...
OPEN STARTER | THE PRECURSORS, REVEALED
CLOSED FINAL CONCLUSION | THE PRECURSORS, REMOVED
OPEN PROMPTS | NEWTON GEISZLER'S RETURN

Comments

► Open to All | (You look stressed out!) | The Precursors

[groupiedrifter]

[It's been two and a half unpleasant days since the kaiju attack on the train, and only a handful of hours since the Doctor had finally unearthed just what it was lurking in Newton's body.

Precursors.

People may have remembered Newton mentioned them months ago in passing, here and there in conversation — and now with the help of that annoying sonic screwdriver, their mental walls were stripped away, presence laid bare. This is officially not Newton Geiszler, though the bruised and scraped up face certainly belongs to him. Anyone with a knack for sensing these things will finally register them for what they are, and... if they focus hard enough passed the impossibly large hivemind that has woven itself through Newton's neurons, they may sense a faint, distant human consciousness wedged down deep in there, too far to reach, too far to hear.

The precursors are currently kept in a rather boring holding room that Viveca and Degar had set up, Their (Newton's) hands and feet cuffed to the holding chair they've been sat up in; their clothes still smell of smoke from the train, rips in the sleeve and a splash of dried blood on their collar and shoulder. Now that they've been ratted out by the good Timelord (ugh, their worst fear, confirmed), they're not bothering to fake it until they make it. The villains in the stupid human show with the talking dog never bothered denying their crimes after they've been unmasked; they suppose they'll just have to do the same.

They also don't seem quite that worried about this predicament, regardless.

After all, they're only neurally linked to Newton. They don't have to worry about retribution, not when their physical bodies are who knows how far away. Rather, they're just waiting now with mild interest to see how the rest of the crew handles the situation; what else can they really do? Well, other than hold Newton hostage in his own body. Cat's out the bag, and as frustrated as they are that their plan failed by a sliver of bad luck and annoying cremates, they don't consider it a complete loss.

Meanwhile, Kovacs and Peter keep taking shifts to watch over them, which is terribly annoying (and they may or may not have told them it'd be nicer if they faced the wall, just so they don't have to look at them). But hey, now is your time to talk to them. Just them, as themselves, albeit with some muscle keeping a watchful eye for any signs of someone looking to shiv the body they're housing in. Come on, come all, and talk to the hivemind.

... If you really want to subject yourself to that bullshit, anyway.

Then again, considering the shitshow that happened days prior, people probably have plenty to say.]

[spacedisaster]

[ It's been more than just two and a half unpleasant days for Peter, and he sometimes feels like his life is just a really long joke the universe is playing with itself for entertainment. It would be better, easier if he could just...not care. If he only walked away and hid in his room, ignoring everyone else and especially Newt -No, not Newt. The things inside him- instead of standing guard to make sure any other orbers tries to hurt or kill him. He could not fault them if they tried, not after the kaiju and the bombs and the deaths.

But even since he was a kid, that was Yondu's biggest complaint about Peter, that he was too soft-hearted and emotional, and no amount of beat-ups as he grew up with the Ravagers could change that. Besides, his memories of that dream he shared with Newt months ago have returned. He remembers crystal clearly how Newt was terrified, cowering as monstrous alien creatures stood, messing with his head and taking root in his mind. Peter too remembers that he blasted their faces, and while it did not hurt them, it annoyed them enough. Going by what happened recently, it is clear that they hold a grudge.

He is glad for Kovacs's company, even if they mostly stay silent, and cover each other when one has to take a break for whatever reason. Peter has been gone for a little while, cooking for Rey and Finn in exchange for helping him and healing his injuries. He left them the food on their doorstep before coming back to Newt's cell, carrying a third box with him. There are two bottles of water, rubbing alcohol, gauze pads, tweezers to remove any glass that might still be stuck to Newton's face, a blanket, and bandaids. For the latter, Peter made sure to grab some the most ridiculous ones he could find. He walks into the room and only briefly locks eyes with Newt before he puts the box down and grabs a gauze pads and the rubbing alcohol. ]

[groupiedrifter]

... Great. Just great. Our favorite idiot returns.

[At least Kovacs doesn't talk talk talk.

As Newton sits there, watching Peter with a displeased glower that doesn't belong to the owner of the body, there's an erratic, shaky tapping of his finger against the arm rest he's cuffed to. Slow, heavy, graceless.

The box that is deposited, as well as the items taken out of it, give them pause to squint skeptically at one of their least favorite crewmates... like maybe they can't quite believe their eyes.

There's an obvious shift in pronouns, now that the jig is up:]

Don't tell us you're going to kiss our booboos all better.

We dealt with that kind of disgusting behavior enough when we weren't steering this vessel.

[spacedisaster]

You all say the sweetest things. [ Peter says without looking, pulls the items out of the box and places them on a nearby table. He remembers now just how much of an asshole these creatures can be, and he's not impressed. ] And here I thought that you were starting to enjoy our conversations. Maybe I should have led with another blast to the face. Did you all like that the last time?

[ The tapping does get his attention, and he briefly looks over his shoulder to glance at Newt. Maybe it's a nervous tics? A body reaction caused by the possession? Peter pours the alcohol on the gauze pad, slowly, soaking it fully as he interprets the rhythm of the tapping. Is that...Morse code?

When he turns, he has to fight the urge to fist a hand on Newt's hair and pull his head back, then press the gauze over the bloody wound on his collar. But that would only hurt Newt, and he knows that much. Instead, he steps in close, cupping Newt's face gently and leaning over him. There's a sharpness in his eyes that is not usually there, anger behind the casual demeanor, but his voice is soft and almost playful when he speaks again. ]

Why, would a kiss be to your liking? I could be amenable to that.

[bindsthedead]

[Sabriel's recovered her memories, by the time she meets with the creatures currently controlling Newton's body. She leaves her bells behind for now. She wants to see what they can do in person, rather than in a dreamscape... but not yet. And she can still draw on a much weaker echo of their power through her voice.]

Now... what are we going to do with you?

[Sabriel's tone is bone dry and carefully controlled. She knows what she promised Newton... but was that really him she'd promised it to? Or a hive of monsters wearing his face, laying one more spiteful preparation in case they were discovered.

Well. Using Belgaer will not be that risky. Especially if she's able to have help, when the time comes.

And it is not impossible, to harm something without a physical form. Not for someone like her, anyway.]

[groupiedrifter]

[Funny, out of all the people aboard the ship, she's one of the few that gets a genuine flash of uncertainty before they return to their usual smug bastard behaviors. Perhaps they just know she's capable of something they'd rather not worry about. But then again, they always did give a good challenge when it came to mind games, didn't they? Some little girl won't be able to wipe the slate for a hivemind of ancient creatures who have conquered planets. Certainly not alone, and they don't believe for a moment anyone on this miserable station can succeed with her.

Pride is a terrible thing, it is.

Watching her, they pop their lips, a disinterested little tic they stole from Newton.]

Boy, that's a good question. What are you going to do with us and our weird little pile of skin and bones?

[bindsthedead]

Well, I don't intend to let Newton die. And you... will need to be removed.

[She remembers Newton telling her what the precursors were, what they'd done. How they tried to destroy the world.

Unnervingly like the Highest One, although at least he'd shown up in person to do the work. These ones just sent out minions, or took over bodies like a particularly unpleasant parasite.

No point in stroking their ego by treating them as anything more than an unpleasant problem to be dealt with.]

What you tried to make me forget? I remember it now. Newton's still there- and it's possible to dislodge you.

[homeostatic]

( Pressed for time and focused on the other orbers, McCoy hasn't had a moment to spare. Newt was, for the time being, secured, a word that sat uneasily with the doctor. Finding that the man has essentially been left to steep in his own injuries, in dirty clothes and Lord knows what else...

...he can't stand it. This is still a sentient being he's looking at, even after everything he-- they've --done, and whatever his feelings about that, they have to come second. Whatever it is lurking behind Newt's eyes, well, he'll get to them here in a bit.

He looks critically at the various bandaids dotting the man's face, the rusty red blood on his shirt, wrinkling his nose at the rising scent of smoke and rubbing alcohol and sweat-soaked body. )

I mean to run some tests on you, clean you up, fix whatever my compatriots have busted in capturing you, and put a line in your arm so you don't have another seizure, ( McCoy explains crisply, and gives the cart he wheeled in with him a tap. )

Is that gonna be a problem?

[groupiedrifter]

[In all honesty, they're not particularly effected by the physical harm. Whatever happens to the vessel is something they can easily shut out — that's the problem with humans when they drift, you know? They haven't figured out how to shut out the pain of the person they're drifting with. Imagine how nightmarish it would be, if they allowed Newton's anguish to trickle into their thoughts. Gross.

Anyway. They don't really care that much about the bumps and bruises and scrapes. It's nothing that serious. Mr. Noble Peace-loving Doctor, though? Not a shocker there. Rolling their eyes, they sag back in the chair they're confined in.]

Oh, we wouldn't want that. Another seizure? That'd be a real shame.

[Disinterest paints their words, but they seem critical as they watch McCoy work.]

... All this devotion to fixing people. And for what? This creature you're trying to mend right now will only live another sixty years. At most. Such a waste of your own short time alive, to expend energy on them.

[homeostatic]

( It is truly unsettling. The turn from the brilliant Dr. Geiszler, the man who once threw a blanket over the storm-tossed Leonard and bellied up to him with a broad grin, into this cruel dickhead.

Out comes the tricorder first, checking him for anything not visible, the soft hum a background to Not!Newt's caustic assertions. McCoy hesitates near his temple, eyeing the results with a small frown. A small alarm pings, and he silences it with the tap of his thumb, squinting down at the other man.

Nothing's broken, shockingly, but whatever's going on in his head needs a closer look. )

All the more reason to expend the energy, ( McCoy replies tartly, closing the cover of the device and trading it out for gloves. ) Life isn't less precious 'cause it's fleeting. Quite the opposite, in fact.

How old are you, anyway? ( Loading a hypo, he gestures with it, ) Couple hundred? A thousand?

[hatejakku]

[ Finn has been debating off and on if he really wanted to see them right now, after everything that happened on the train. He didn't have a whole lot to say and there wasn't much to do so long as they had Newton hostage.

At least, Finn hoped they did. There was no evidence that their friend was gone, not yet, so he wasn't about to assume anything.

Which is partly why he finally decided to make a visit. He's one of the few telepaths on this station and considers himself one of Newton's friends just like Newton is his own. He owes it to him to go and see this for himself.

But Finn's also not entirely stupid. No one knows what all these Precursors can do. The last thing anyone on the station needs is for them to jump bodies into someone who can wield the Force, and creating a mental link might open that door for them. This isn't a mission to pull Newton to the surface and save him or something, not while Finn's the only telepath in the room. This is just recon. ]

Hey. [ Just as casual as you please. Besides, who knows how many times Finn had been talking to them instead of Newton?

He eyeballs the setup they've got to keep him on lockdown, even checks on the line McCoy put in him, but doesn't touch. Just moves about the room, walking around him. ]

Don't want to say I told you so, but-...

[groupiedrifter]

[They roll their eyes at Finn's arrival and subsequent commentary, unimpressed.]

Yeah, yeah. Just a minor misstep. Happens sometimes when luck isn't on your side.

[The brightly colored band-aids are still littering Newton's face from Peter's nurse work earlier in the day; they actually look right on Newton's face, like something he'd have done to himself... much more proper than the detached look in his eyes or the disgusted frown on his lips.]

What do you want, Finn? A medal for being capable of walking on two feet?

Or — are you trying to see if Newton's still alive in here?

[hatejakku]

Bad luck. Sure.

[ Luck plays a part in every operation, Finn knows that, but you just have to own up at some point. These don't seem like the "owning up" kind of guys, though. ]

Well, I've never been big on medals.

[ He makes the full circuit, pacing around until he's facing them full on again and stops. ]

What did you do with him, anyway? Can't imagine that you've killed him. Even if you could, it's not smart.

[coordination]

[ It's funny timing, when those memories of his "dream" with the Precursors come back to him. That timing is why Yzak is a lot more pissed off than he normally would be (which, lbr, would still be pretty pissed). Because he'd have to come to consider the possibility that he wouldn't remember his time here on the Ximilia when all is said and done here. That sort of lack of control over something that's his causes such a desperately visceral reaction in Yzak.

So to realize there was something he actually forgot, right after having those thoughts? Leaves him roiling when memory of that dream finally returns to him.

And as such, Yzak Jule stands in the doorway of where "Newton's" being held, arms crossed, leaned against the frame. I'd looks could kill, the one he's fixing Newton with would be the most dangerous of them all. ]

It's almost time to go, you miserable fucks.

[groupiedrifter]

[They give Yzak a flat, displeased stare.

Ugh. Of all the people who had to come gloat... They really are just tired of all the people they really wanted dead showing up with their thoughts and opinions. Has no one ever learned to keep them to themselves? (Not that they've ever.) Their fingers curl around the handrails they sit across, gripping uncomfortably, but they offer a humorless smile at the glare aimed at them.]

Careful, Yzak. Wouldn't want to pop any blood vessels in those peepers of yours.

... You sure you want to try kicking us out, though? Who knows what awful ramifications there'll be for the little friend that you failed again and again to help. Sure would be a shame if this body turned into an empty husk in the process.

Re: ► Open to All | (You look stressed out!) | The Precursors

[flickerandfade]

[ Megatron has spent time castigating himself. He should have known, he thinks, that something was wrong with Newt. He had been acting strangely--compared to his usual, in any case. Megatron had chalked it up to stress, the loss of a friend from home, something, anything else but the reality that Newton was not himself. Now, he seeks to confront these beings. If only verbally.

He's supposed to be intelligent. Insightful. Maybe the time in prison has made him slower than he used to be. Maybe he's just old.

The imposing figure of the Cybertronian steps into the room and almost casually takes a seat across from the Precursors, hands folded in his lap. ]

So, who are you? What do you want?

[groupiedrifter]

Oh, hey! We'd been wondering when the cybertronians would show up.

[They apparently don't seem concerned with how imposing Megatron is. But then again, they also are fairly confident Megatron won't smash Newton's skull in his hands for the sake of not killing the man that is allegedly still concealed inside his own body. Bold of them to think there's anything of Newton left — they're right, but still. Bold. They lean forward, as if immensely interested.]

Just your humble conquistadors here, just here to take whatever shiny things we want from whatever pathetic creature can't defend them; we're big fans of you and cute blue flowers, by the way.

What was your favorite conquest?

Favorite execution?

We'd love to hear more about you, personally.

[laviny]

[Yelena is curious, after everything that has happened. She's fond of Newt and she's also someone who has dealt with having her mind fucked around with, so she can't quite resist coming to Prewt's holding room to see him.

She's not actually there to judge or to murder. She just wants to observe. Maybe talk a little bit, if Newt's alien brain worms are into that.

She arrives in the room with a bowel of mac and cheese casserole and takes a seat a few feet away.]

Hello, how are you doing? Have they been feeding you?

[groupiedrifter]

[Y'know, Yelena? They'll say it: you're not so bad.

In fact, you're one of the few people here that don't completely annoy them. But maybe they can just appreciate a soldier than knows what she's good for. Mmm, yeah, that's probably it. And sure, they'd kill her in a heartbeat, but — they're also pretty sure she would do the same, so it's a mutual sort of casual disgust for one another.

Humming, they lean back.]

Oh, they've tried here and there. After spitting all the attempts at one too many people, they unfortunately started using the ol' IV drip for meals, so no more thirsting to death for us. [Glancing to the mac and cheese, they wrinkle their nose. Newton's nose.] ... Ugh, you like that garbage, too? What is it with humans and the chemicals they put in a pot? No wonder Newton likes you.

[callada]

[Word gets around quickly enough, and while eventually Rosinante does want to check on Newton, the knowledge that these things, whatever they are, are the ones responsible for so much conflict and cruelty within their crew is what has brought him here today.

He's not here to pretend to be pleasant, so he doesn't sit, or even slouch. He stands with arms folded, a cigarette between his fingers, as he eyes Newton's form and reminds himself that that is not the man himself before him and probably hasn't been for quite some time.]

Enjoying yourselves yet?

[groupiedrifter]

Oh, hey Rosi.

[They've been having a great time, thanks for asking. (Or, well, they'll pretend they're having a great time; really, they're just stubbornly clinging to this body because they refuse to be booted by a bunch of weak morons.) Sitting back against their chair, the chains around their ankles and wrists cling a little.]

No hard feelings about watching you get the shit beat out of you in Giva, right?

Eye for an eye, and all that. We were just looking out for Newton's best interest.

[And it was a funny parallel to come full-circle.]

[winscenario]

[ Jim isn't really here to talk, he has very little interest in giving a bunch of genocidal parasitic maniacs more fodder for their destruction. After all, they're contained now, but the truth is they don't really know if anything will work in kicking them out of Newt's mind, and they might just have to deal with round two of destruction attempts.

But he is worried about Newt. He can't do much for his mental state right now, but he can at least check that he's fine physically. He's sure Bones has done a good job looking over him, but Jim comes by anyway, giving him a concerned once-over.

And admittedly, a small part of him is interested in hearing these creatures speak, not because he thinks they'll say anything of real interest or relevance, but just because he needs the reminder that this isn't Newt, and that there's something tangible and real that's wrong with him, something that they can fix. ]

[groupiedrifter]

[The precursors look displeased to see Jim. Because of course they are. Last time they'd seen him, they abandoned him to his leg injury with the hopes that they'd be able to blow the rest of the train to pieces later. Boastful and vain as they are, they were fairly sure that would have been the last time they had to lay Newton's eyes on the human.

Fingers curl on the arm rests their hands are cuffed to.]

Well.

This is awkward.

I was hoping you'd be too busy languishing in an infirmary bed, but the healing technology here is a little too efficient. If you're here to speak to Newton, this isn't his body anymore, and he's not going to be coming to the phone.

[aurable]

[ There had been a sense welling up inside of Drift since Scorpion's Bend that he had no words for, only a lingering doubt that persisted like a bad smell. An animal circling the edge of a clearing on the hunch of a hunch of predators hiding in the dark. Newt had been getting progressively more agitated but conversely quieter. Drift hadn't said anything but believed Newt to be acting like a man putting his affairs in order. That should have raised a parade of red flags, but there had never been enough time.

— There is never enough time in the universe. Drift knew this, but the lesson never sticks until the other boot drops.

When Drift finally appears, he arrives as a man, but not entirely. When he approaches the thing in Newt's body, a large silhouette fills the room from behind. 'Drift' entered while Drift stalked just outside — just in case. ]

So

[ He started evenly, smoothing the front of his button-down. ]

How will this go? I'm expecting either an unhinged speech about the 'rightful dominion of a higher species beyond my feeble comprehension,' or whatever roundabout and nonsensical humble bragging you types take for engaging repartee or some bullshit victory lap.

I'm older than the other one. I'm seldom surprised.

[groupiedrifter]

[Now that Drift's back to normal in the Ximilia, with the precursor's mental barrier down? The aura in this room is smothering, much like a house left to decay with everything inside. Whatever Newton may be feeling in this moment is completely shrouded in it — if there's even any semblance of Newton left in this place. They're hardly interested in letting him loose any time soon... Best to just let him sink to the bottom of the lake and drown rather peacefully, don't you think?

They tap their finger on the armrest, discontented, because they've been forcibly bound at the shoulders as well — all because they had torn the IV drip from Newton's vein with their teeth not long before. There are still dry specks of blood on the chair and floor from the unpleasant event.]

... Oh, we're sure you can comprehend it very well. We're cut from similar enough cloths.

So, how many have you killed in your long life? We only got a full scope of the grumpy one's sins against humanity and his own.

[They apparently would love nothing more than to keep the conversation on the sins of others.

Besides, it's far more interesting to them.]