MISSION: THE VOICE IN THE DARK

[ximilian]

● ● ● M I S S I O N   9 . 0

JOKE'S ON YOU • WHERE'S THE BEEF? • WE ALL GO A LITTLE MAD • I AIN'T 'FRAID OF NO GHOST • FYI

// INTRO. JOKE'S ON YOU  

It's in the early hours of the morning, when even the lights around the station are dimmed to emulate an accurate cycle of the day, when your earpieces softly ping with information for a new mission. Viveca’s accompanying message will only play when the file is opened; no one will have to wake up to it, though undoubtedly some early birds (or late night owls) will want to listen to it immediately.

// VIVECA

Good morning, team. We’ve located another orb on an alien planet called 981.C29. It’s in a town called Forsythe Heights. It seems to be just a normal, quiet town, but … be alert. Some weird things seem to have been happening for a while, now, if some of the locals are to be believed. Anyway — gather your things, you leave this evening.

With that slightly ominous intel, it is time to familiarize yourself with the file and its contents, and gather what you need. You'll have time for a nice meal, an extra nap, or maybe several hours of training before the evening finally arrives and it’s time to head to the teleportation platform.

When you get there, it is already lit up, the unmistakable hum filling the room. Viveca and Degar are already there too, greeting each arriving Orber and offering them luck. Once everyone has arrived, the hum grows louder, the machine preparing to send everyone off as usual —

But then you hear something. From your earpiece, that same knock as before, the same lilting voice asking “Who’s there?”, except now she follows it with:

// ???

Boo!

In the ever-louder hum, it's impossible to tell who among the team it is that, after a pause, asks:

“Boo who?”

The answer is as immediate as it is sweet, almost cheerful.

// ???

Please don’t cry! Your chances of success are… 64 percent.

You barely have the time to process this, or the way Viveca and Degar look at each other with alarm, when the teleportation yanks you away into a bright, white light. There, instead of the lilt of the unknown woman, you hear a whisper, echoes from far away, telling you what it is you must do … but before you can answer, the light around you fades and you feel solid ground beneath your feet.

Welcome to Forsythe Heights.

TOP

// PART I.WHERE'S THE BEEF?  

The weather has cooled down considerably when you arrive in Forsythe Heights, the autumn season truly upon the small, cozy town. It’s reflected in the reds, oranges and browns of the leaves in the trees, and slowly forms a cover over manicured lawns and gathers at roads-end drains, sticking to metal grates and concrete curbs. It’s the perfect time for pumpkin pie and warm hot cocoa, and All Hallow’s Day is well on its way with the slow emergence of decorations in front of houses. For those who have always lived here, it’s just ‘that time again’; and for those freshly arrived, it’s time to find a way to blend in.

1.0   The Town —— With your established cover stories at hand, it’s time to explore Forsythe Heights. Upon entering the cozy town, you’ll be greeted by a block of restaurants and a few select shops before Lilian’s Bed and Breakfast comes up on the road. Beyond that is the library (with a small but robust collection of fiction and archived newspapers) and the mayor’s office, the police department and the fire station. Rows of shops line Main Street too, with goods ranging from clothing and food items to accessories and knick-knacks of varying levels of usefulness (and entertainment). After this are the residential neighbourhoods, with blocks of quaint houses on streets like Acorn Avenue and Beaver Creek and Elmgrove Street; Forsythe Heights Elementary School and High School are nestled comfortably within, making the commute no longer than a pleasant morning walk from most houses.

With All Hallow’s Day approaching, the town has been decorated to suit, but there are still events one can join in on too: pumpkin-carving competitions, decoration creations, face-painting, and festive pastry-baking (with all the ins and outs of using orange icing to the best of one’s ability!). The elementary school will also be hosting a bake sale a week before All Hallow’s Day to fund the annual class party, a task that has been newly assigned to Mr Harris this year. Feel free to sign up for various activities through speaking with those in the community running them, join in and blend in with your fellow resident.

2.0   Forsythe Pleasantview Cemetery —— By the church, Our Lady of Lonely Souls, is a large expanse of lush land lined with pathways and trees and rows of headstones of varying shapes and sizes. It’s easy enough to find one’s way there, past the town hall and the library nearby. It’s a peaceful walk and beautiful when it isn’t raining or frigid with the winter ice. Today might be an exceptionally beautiful autumn day, with the leaves having made a carpet of colour, and one can get a great overlooking view of Forsythe Heights.

As you walk among the stones, you might catch the faintest whisper on the wind but otherwise this place doesn’t seem to evoke any sort of unease. Of course, you might not want to stay anywhere past 6:30PM when the caretakers of the cemetery … gently but forcibly send visitors home with vague answers to any questions. It might not be impossible to linger by the gates and chat up the caretakers for any possible conversation, but you’ll have to be the right kind of charming. And, of course, catch them on a good day.

3.0   Wright Central Mall —— Just past Forsythe Heights, on the next exit along the freeway, you might come across a large two-storey building that sprawls over a large lot surrounded by asphalt. There are fragments of an ambitious vision poured into the weathered concrete and the smooth stone surfaces, memories of a bustling shopping epicenter that now sits empty with all businesses closed, the structure of Wright Central Mall itself a retail graveyard. It may prove to be something of a challenge to get past the tall barbed fencing, and the large bright yellow sign warns trespassers that their attempts to enter are forbidden and will be punished by law, but it isn’t an impossible feat either.

Once you move past the padlocks and chains and through the large metal doors, you’ll be greeted with the darkness and the musty scent of debris and a space fallen to disuse and disrepair. Storefronts are empty and abandoned. Some stores may still see scraps of old merchandise (nothing especially useful: clothing, unmatched shoes, old books, random accessories), covered now in a thick layer of dust. The escalator no longer runs, but it still works plenty well enough as a staircase to lead you up to the second level where a now defunct food court once existed, some of the signage now left broken and shattered into pieces.

Wandering through this long forgotten shopping mall might offer different experiences for some. There are small shops with none of the lights on, dark spaces that seem even darker no matter how long you adjust your eyes. As you explore these stores you might feel the walls begin to shift and draw closer, swallowing you into the darkness, paralyzing you. You can try to scream and claw your way out but it feels as though you’re stuck, your limbs locked into place.

Hopefully one of your fellow orbers will find you and pull you out from the dark — whether it’s all in your own head or not. ♪

4.0   Main Street —— Forsythe Heights has never been bustling, but those without a regular nine-to-five seem to populate the main street of the town where most of the shops and cafes and restaurants are situated. There is no other way to describe it: it’s quaint. This is where you might find that one-of-a-kind scarf or hat, something homemade and not too mainstream. There’s a bookshop and general store, and little shops for knick-knacks. At the cafes (of which there are two to choose from: Patty’s Diner; or for coffee addicts, Alvin’s Roastery) you might sample artisanal hot beverages ranging from coffee to tea to the richest cocoas, and try the croissants at Alvin’s as well. Patty offers great food for lunch or dinner, and might happily chatter away at you if you try her latest menu item.

TOP

// PART II.WE ALL GO A LITTLE MAD  

The sun sets quickly now during this last leg of the year, and by early evening the lights in the town start to come on, illuminating the interiors of houses and other businesses along the main street like stars. Carved and plastic pumpkins alike glow bright orange at door stoops and in windows, and while the sky is covered in cloud, the glow of the waxing gibbous moon still painting rooftops in a cool, white-ish light.

5.0   Cemetery: Revisited (CW: body horror, some descriptions of gore) —— If you decide to chance getting caught and possibly arrested for trespassing, you might decide that it’s well worth exploring Forsythe Pleasantview Cemetery after hours. The groundskeepers lock up the premises at 6:30PM sharp and disappear into their car to drive past the slight crest in the road that leads to their home. It isn’t very far away in the case of an emergency, but then they haven’t come across such things in … some time.

You might find that the cemetery now feels inextricably different with the sun’s last light fading into evening; in fact, it’s almost eery. The wind feels colder, almost biting. It seems to whisper words in your ear as it hisses past you. The grass beneath your feet crunches like the sound of something dry and brittle, something like bone — only when you look down at your shoes, there’s nothing there except for the grass and dirt and dust. When you look up, however, you might find a gaunt face staring back at you, a blur at first but slowly it takes the shape of something familiar, someone you know or knew from home. Their eyes are dark and empty, hollow holes in a pale face that smudges in and out of focus like flashes of a horrible image. They might look as though they’re in pain as they reach out, flesh hanging from bone and yet looking barely corporeal. And they may open their mouths with chipped, blackened teeth and an equally black tongue but as they try to speak words to you no sound comes out. They're just cold whispers in your ear, nothing more than the wind. ♪

6.0   Forsythe Elementary (CW: some descriptions of gore, uh ... giggling children?) —— The skies are fully dark by the time you find your way towards the elementary school. Somehow, without the presence of staff and students, the building feels like a cold, haunted shell of itself. Should you dare to go in — after bypassing the locks, of course — you’ll be met with dark corridors, echoing classrooms, and the wind whistling through the emptiness, seeming to come from outside … except no windows or doors are really open. You might see a dark smudge up ahead that seems to shift and move, sending a chill crawling up the length of your spine. If you happen to have a torchlight with you, throwing a spotlight onto the shadow, there’s nothing there.

Continue on and you may suddenly be transported to a different place all together, the glossy hallways now a room you remember vividly, or a field, or battle arena. Your worst memory slowly begins to materialize before you to be lived through again, and you might scream for help but find no response. Or, if you move along the long corridor and study the postings and drawings and notices on the walls, colourful push-pins keeping equally colourful flyers in place, you might start to notice the words start to change or bleed into each other. They become bold and black and appear to drip down the length of the page with threatening messages or deep, dark secrets revealed, clear before your eyes. Whether this message is for you, and you alone, is dependent upon the strength of your fear.

Whispers might follow you, a shadow taking shape that looks eerily like you — only it murmurs your worst fears at you, taunting you, provoking you into doing something foolish. Maybe it asks you to claw at your own face, or find someone else to harm. Will you ignore it? Or will you give in? And if it isn’t whispers, you might hear the clear peal of children giggling somewhere just out of reach of you, in another class room or down the hall. No matter how long you try to chase it, you can never quite catch sight of them.

Do you continue to explore or do you try to find a way out, hoping to escape the horrors in this school? ♪

7.0   The Town After Dark —— By the time the sun goes down and the skies are dark, most of Forsythe Heights’ residents have closed their stores and cafes and departed for their homes. The town suddenly looks very different without its residents out and about, the shadows seeming to be larger and darker without the sun to keep them at bay. And are those … ghoulish, grinning faces behind the display windows, hidden amongst the clothing mannequins or past the darkness? No, no, that must be your imagination.

Out here it might seem peaceful at first, but it quickly becomes unmistakable — somewhere in that cool, cold distance, there’s the low growl of something primal that slowly becomes a howl at the now-full moon. And among that are more hushed whispers and strange sounds carried across the breeze, foreign grunts and groans and clicks from under shadow. Some of you might try and investigate the source of these sounds, but others of you might want to find shelter or quickly make your way back to the homes you’ve made here.

TOP

// PART III.I AIN'T 'FRAID OF NO GHOST  

Everything seems to come to a head when the clock strikes 3AM on the morning of All Hallow’s Day. The strange happenings within Forsythe Heights have been increasing in frequency and strength, sights that are hard to dismiss and hard to excuse if you and the rest of the team have been investigating locations around town during the nights. A fog has set in now, obscuring the sharp lines of building forms and the curbs of the roads to a blurry watercolour painting. From wherever you might be now, the strangest feeling seems to settle over your chest like a pressing weight, prickling at your skin and raising the hairs on your arms.

Something is coming. No. Something is already here.

8.0   Witching Hour —— A dark silhouette begins to take shape through the thick fog. It appears to approach you and the rest of the team but it takes its time, slow and meticulous in its movement. The air is colder now, each exhale a cloud of condensation, and you wish you brought an extra jacket. Your eyes remain trained on the shadow drawing nearer, it’s like you can’t look away even if you want to. (But some of you might, just to exchange a look with your fellow orber.) The figure doesn’t quite walk, but it isn’t gliding either. The air tingles with a girl’s cackling laughter now, but it sounds too familiar, as though it might have been sampled directly from a popular horror film. It seems to be cut out immediately by another voice, low and guttural, murmuring nonsensical words like something possessed, before a different voice all together claws its way past the growls and the giggles. It’s a boy’s voice, and it doesn’t sound any older than twelve or thirteen.

Is it time to play again?

TOP

SOME QUICK FACTS ABOUT THE JUMPSCARE MECHANIC:

• What is a "jumpscare"?
A jumpscare is a mod-initiated prompt using one or more of your character's fears listed here. Once initiated, players can treat it as if it were a specific starter or a prompt in a top level, and react and respond accordingly.

There will be no follow-up by the mods.

The player who the jumpscare is for can decide whether to treat it like an open prompt (everyone can tag in), or a closed starter (only pre-planned tag-ins). Please make sure to plot for this amongst yourselves for tag-ins. Feel free to make use of the initial ooc plotting post for this.

• When will it happen?


• Where will it happen?
— Though note that every jumpscare thread will be considered a "log" thread for AC, regardless where it happens.

● ● ●

F Y I

• The events in this log take place during the month of October. The team will return to the station by the end of October.

• If you have questions about any of the prompts or the mission in general, please direct them HERE.

• To submit a search request regarding exploring a specific place or speaking to an NPC, please do so HERE.

• If you would still like to opt in for a jumpscare, you may do so HERE. We will be accepting them until October 20.

• A gentle reminder: please make sure to properly mark your threads for content warnings and/or mature content.

• And finally, your soundtrack for this log: ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪

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▶ NAV

Comments

Clayton Epps | OC | OTA

[dr_unconscious]

1.0/4.0 | Getting situated

[For his first mission on this strange spaceship that pulls people from across multiple universes to reconstruct a wish-granting orb, Clayton can't help but feel like the place he's found himself is...oddly familiar. Heather Fields - the town where he spent most of his childhood - was a lot like this one. The late 80's aesthetic and technology is familiar, even. It's like his employers, knowing that this was where his fondest memories were kept, decided to just forget the whole mission thing and send him back home.]

[The distinctly non-human aliens scattered amongst the townsfolk kind of break that illusion, of course. But Clayton's starting to get used to that.]

[Point being, Clayton finds that he settles into the small-town life, and his cover story in it, quickly and comfortably. His job at the elementary school as school nurse keeps him busy during the typical nine-to-five hours. The atmosphere is a lot more relaxed than he's used to, with most of his 'patients' either faking coughs or needing some disinfectant, a patterned bandage, and a couple of reassuring pats on the head to stop the sniffling. Still, Clayton takes his work seriously, to the point where sometimes he forgets that there's a mission happening at all. A fellow Orber walking into his office to exchange intel might not even be recognized until they give him some kind of prod, first.]

[When he's not working, Clayton takes his time exploring the rest of the small town. That is to say, he haunts the same locations that he would while going back home to visit his aunts. On weekend morning he goes to Alvin’s Roastery, poaching a spot on one of the couches in the corner by the front window while he greedily sucks down one of several cups of coffee; weekend afternoons see him hanging about Patty’s Diner with more coffee and some greasy sandwich or other and a basket of fries at the bar. He happily chats up the waitstaff and anyone that sits next to him, Orber or otherwise, intentionally taking his time with his meals so he has more time to get to know people.]

6.0 | Risky business - CWs likely for death, gore, mental trauma

[Clayton is careful about actually approaching his investigations. He's not used to leading the way on these sorts of things, so he's not likely to go alone; one or two other Orbers accompany him on each trip, planned carefully in advance in whatever covert way they can.]

[The idea is simple: The school is a point of interest and is meticulously locked after-hours. Clayton has keys in. It's...not much of a plan, admittedly, but anything else would require him to out his abilities and, in spite of how open all the other Orbers seems to be about their powers, Clayton is still apprehensive about displaying his. He tells himself he'll definitely let his teammates know about them later. When they're relevant. Right.]

[Trying to hide his apprehension, Clayton props open the front doors to the school to let his teammates inside.]

Alright...I can vouch for us if someone asks. Got some paperwork I wanna pick up or--

[He does a full double-take. For a moment the main hallway looks like - the foyer of an old house?]

[Then, as quickly as Clayton blinks, it's back to normal. He stares down the hall in befuddlement.]

--somethin'. Did you just see--no? Just me?

7.0 | Looking where he shouldn't - Closed to Rosinante Donquixote and maybe others later - CW: soul and mind manipulation

[Following several trips around the school at night and a few other harrowing walks downtown, Clayton feels he has a better sense of what might be happening here. Having his fears fed to him through waking visions, experiencing the fears of others, the general sense of malaise spread amongst the townsfolk, is all eerily similar to what he might consider an attack on the soul.]

[He should know - he's done it before.]

[To that end, Clayton thinks he might be able to level with whoever is responsible. Doing so exposes himself to a lot of risk, though, and not just from whatever he might end up finding in the Astral. How will he tell the rest of the Orbers what he found without mentioning how he's found it?]

[He'll worry about that if and when it becomes relevant. In the meanwhile, the sun has set, Patty's Diner where he spent this otherwise tranquil Saturday evening has long since closed its doors, and now only gleaming eyes stare back at him through its darkened windows. Clayton grimaces, betraying his anxiety in spite of his casual pace down the sidewalk. He needs somewhere to hide. Preferably, somewhere he doesn't have to break into and explain in the morning.]

[A narrow gap between two shops is a welcome sight, in spite of the inky darkness that coats it several feet in. A stack of discarded boxes from the day's shipments makes for a decent shelter. Casting a quick glance around, Clayton squeezes his way into the alley, shuffles the cardboard around to guard him from either side, and slowly settles himself down on the pavement as if he's about to take a nap. His eyes close.]

[Then, an instant later, he's in the Astral and his mind is a bright speck behind him, far beyond a slack memory tether wrapped around his ankle.]

[On the corporeal plane, the sleeping man goes noticeably and suddenly limp. His breathing slows to a crawl, as does his pulse, and his body temperature plummets. This is not normal and also not safe. But that's only a problem is someone finds him, right?]

7.0

[callada]

[This whole place has him on edge far more than it has any right to. The darkness and silence that comes with nightfall is one of his own preferred elements for getting shit done in, after all. There's no reason for the hair on the back of his neck to be raised like it is, or for him to have his hand so frequently close to the hilt of his pistol.

His hyper-awareness pays off when he spots a body tucked away in an alley. He immediately sinks to his knees and checks the man over. His pulse, thankfully, is strong, and there aren't any wounds evident anywhere. Did someone pass out drunk?

His basic medical skills leave him without options pretty quickly. Damnit, where's Law when you need him? He sits a moment, frowning before he gets on the network to call for medical assistance - or at least some input.

And failing all else, he'll stay here until the guy looks a little more lively.]

[dr_unconscious]

[The man doesn't stir when he's prodded. Not even his eyelids move, like they might be if he was slumbering. He's eerily still and cold.]

[In the Astral, though, Clayton's soul is much more active.]

[There's plenty to see around him, which is odd in its own right. Little wisps of energy dance and pulse in the distance; they remind him of the torn shreds of a memory leaking away, fizzling into the void, except these ones seem to be going somewhere. Clayton watches the bundles flicker in the distance. He should follow them, get a sense of their physical destination--]

[--except suddenly there's something pulling him back. Clayton's tether to his mind tenses and he flips around, noticing for the first time a mind adjacent to his. Must've just made contact, he realizes.]

[Should he be worried? Well, maybe, he doesn't know who this is, but it looks like a normal enough mind to him from the outside and it's a safe enough guess that they're an Orber, too, because who the hell else would be wandering around the spooky ghost town at this time of night?]

[Then more importantly: Should he try to contact them?]

[Obviously Clayton could just slip back into his mind and wake up, pretend to have passed out. He almost does. But this little annoying, nagging thought tells him that he's part of a group full of people with powers far stranger than his, and that his employers are probably expecting him to coordinate his powers with theirs at some point or other. Maybe he should just...get it over with.]

[Tentatively, Clayton reaches out and touches Rosinante's mind. It's a temporary, surface-level connection, not enough to intrude on his thoughts or memories, but enough that Rosi probably feels a little tickle in the back of his head to add to that already present sense of malaise. And, of course, it's enough for Clayton to think at him.]

Hello? Please don't freak out.

[callada]

[That initial sensation is strange and uncomfortable. The sort of thing that really makes him cautious, because he's felt something a little like it before with someone now gone. He had immediately shut them out and pulled away.

But this is different if only because the situation is so different - he's trying to make sure the person in front of him isn't dead, and nothing clearly indicates that that person is the source of the voice. He looks around, half expecting there to be an actual ghost behind him, but there's nothing other than the strange, dim surroundings softened by fog.

So the voice is in his head, then. Not unlike the earpiece, or the orbs. He knows how to think at disembodied voices now - not something he ever would have thought of, once upon a time. He's tense when he replies,]

You have ten seconds to explain who you are and what you want.

[gusurules]

[After responding to the network call for assistance, it did not take Wangji too long to arrive. He was already out investigating what he could the same as most of the Orbers, but it seems he was the first to respond.

He jogged over to the two and set his sword down, reaching out to take Clayton's wrist in his hand and press two fingers over his pulse point while feeding in a thin stream of his own qi to see what he could of the bodily ailments. Whether or not the man had training in circulating his own, Wangji should - hopefully - be able to tell if he was affected by something mundane (like alcohol or illness) or something supernatural.]

How long?

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton's answer is hurried, a clear sense of urgency and regret traveling through his soul's touch. He doesn't want to make anyone upset.]

I'm Clayton Epps, the guy you're--hold on.

[Suddenly there's another mind next to him, so close and bright that it's nearly overwhelming. Someone he knows? No - someone else touching him. But the mind's veneer does look a little familiar. Perhaps this is someone he's met before.]

[Either way, they're close enough and Clayton doesn't want Rosi to play telepathic telephone, so he reaches out his other hand to the second mind and connects them. With Clayton as the conduit, he and Wangji should now be able to hear each other's surface thoughts, as well as his own.]

[Clayton clears his throat.]

--There we are! Sorry 'bout that, y'all should both be in the loop now. Clayton, guy on the ground? I just wanna talk.

[A beat. A small amount of amusement escapes him, like an unheard chuckle.]

Are my ten seconds up?

[callada]

[Rosinante looks at Wanji as he walks up, first with cautious, narrowed eyes, but then he relaxes as his shape takes form in the low light. That's the guy who had offered to help.

More than that, he's familiar. He'd thought so vaguely over the video stream, but in person it's even more obvious. He's seen someone like him before, hasn't he? Early on, and then again, in Wei Wuxian's artwork.

There will be time for questions later, because his attention is quickly pulled back to the voice in his mind. Gods, what a weird evening this is turning out to be.]

Guy on the ground, huh. You one of the psychic types, or is there something else going on here? I had to ask someone to come and make sure you're all right.

[gusurules]

[He is alarmed at first, when the mind speaks within his without his initiating a mind spell. But the voice is Clayton's and he can feel the man's energy faintly tethered to his body now that Wangji's qi has circulated through Clayton's meridians. He is not a cultivator, but he does have training in using his own energy in a manner similar.]

His consciousness is outside his body.

[Wangji answers Rosi's question while maintaining the qi feed to Clayton. He does not know if Clayton needs it, but it may make it easier to return to his body if there is an outside source of energy to pull from.]

Dangerous.

[If Clayton can read emotions with his mindlink, there is a deep well of concern with the reprimand. Though the tone and Wangji's expression look quite detached, if perhaps angry, it is only worry that drives him at the moment.]

1.0 nurse's office.

[bijective]

[ When Hermann first got word that the Ximilia crew had a mission just around the corner, the first thought that came into mind was chaos. That they would be tossed straight into the wolves’ den until they eventually emerged with the orb in hand. Little did he realize they were playing a slow burn game.

Well, “slow” is a rather inaccurate word for it. Hermann is a distinguished scientist with over twenty years of decorative experience in applied engineering and computer science. And now, he is tasked with being in charge of a room full of tiny toddlers in kindergarten. Not a very mundane endeavour.

The man could use a brief reprieve from wiping runny noses and reading the same silly Frog & Toad storybook for the 100th time.

He knocks before opening the door. ]

Is this a bad time?

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton perks up, expecting an adult with a sick child, but pleasantly surprised to find just the former waiting for him at the door. He's seen Hermann around the school and knows roughly that he works with the youngest of their students, but it's only now that he pings his earpiece and realizes that they're coworkers elsewhere, too.]

Nah--come on in! [Clayton beams a lopsided smile, gesturing to a pair of chairs near the door.] Been quiet today. Just one patient, stubbed her toe. I'm not expectin' anything too crazy 'fore school lets out.

❕

[ximilian]

When you come to, you realize you're not alone. It's not the feeling of someone beside you, but rather a tickle along the edges of your mind that tells you something isn't quite right. On the outside, the shadows around you settle into shapes you can make out — the items of the room you were staying in, or maybe the houses along the street you'd been walking down. Outside is where it's quiet. Still.

Inside, you feel the grasp of something firm, something real take hold of the barriers in your mind and wrench them apart. Instantly, you know what this is. It might not have happened to you before, but you know what to expect.

After all, you were on the other end of it before.

So you know what it feels like to have two souls battle for control of one body. Only this time it's your body, and you're losing.

You feel it, that loss of control. It's as tangible as a punch to the gut, stealing the wind out of your lungs just as easily. Your feet move, your arms lift, but it's not you and you want to scream but your voice is no longer yours to use. Every moment feels stolen, every second just one step closer to the end.

Maybe you can even start to feel it, too, the way the Astral welcomes you, bids you to stay. Maybe after fighting for so long, you start to wonder what it would truly be like to rest.

Note: The player is free to decide for how long the effects last.

CW: possession (thank you this is incredible) | OTA

[dr_unconscious]

[This ends up being the longest day of Clayton's life.]

[It's not just the obvious - the loss of control, the threat of total dissimilation, the irony of the whole thing. It's the pain. His mind and memories are being shredded and it's the worst agony imaginable, a slow torture far outpacing what it was like to perform it on someone else. Occasionally he thinks about how fitting it is to sit in Conrad's shoes, but such coherent thoughts are fleeting. Most of the time his memories are too scrambled to even remember why this is happening. It's just pain, and confusion, and frustration, and a desire for it to end.]

[On the outside, however, life continues as normal. Clayton's body leaves his ranch house on the outskirts of town, stops for a quick breakfast and coffee at Alvin's on his way to work at the elementary school, even has a nice walk around town after the school day ends to enjoy the cool fall weather. The only things giving away that something might be amiss with the doctor are how quiet he is and the sort of odd, glassy look in his eyes. Sometimes his arms spasm and he knocks something over, or he seems to trip over his own feet. But the thing controlling him recovers quickly with a soft laugh and a murmured apology, while inside his mind, Clayton screams.]

[nodepth]

[While they had not yet spoken directly, Perceptor was aware that the school nurse at the elementary school was one of theirs and had the tools necessary to get them inside after hours. He does not doubt that others had already investigated the school, but that did not mean he wouldn't collect his own data.

So when he sees him wandering after school hours, not yet dusk but it was quickly approaching, he decided to step up beside him.]

Hello, lovely weather.

[That's what humans say to introduce themselves, isn't it?]

[dr_unconscious]

[Hmm yes, normal human greeting recognized. The shell that is Clayton's body comes to a rather abrupt halt and turns, affixing Perceptor with a wan smile.]

Ain't it just?

[The thing in his mind plucks at his memories for conversation material, and to check if he's already met this person before. It feels like his soul is being put through a shredder. Why isn't he dead yet?]

[Perhaps to Perceptor's benefit, Clayton's never encountered his human disguise outside of the elementary school, therefore he hasn't bothered to check if he's an Orber and his possessor has no reason to do so, either - not yet. But it does recognize a coworker. Alien curiosity overwhelms Clayton's senses; what could this teacher want from him? What can it get from him in return?]

Can I help you with somethin'?

[nodepth]

[Maybe Perceptor startled him by speaking to him so unexpectedly in public.]

I'm sorry if this seems abrupt, I have heard you are a reliable intermediary when we are seeking to assist at the elementary school?

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton would interpret this as an odd request from a teacher native to Forsythe Heights and might follow up with some clarifying questions, an earpiece ping, or maybe a joke. But Clayton is not driving this vehicle right now.]

[He smiles, wide and bright and full of teeth.]

Sure! What're you fixin' to do there?

[nodepth]

[Perceptor is not sure if this is a question to avoid letting those around them aware of their mission and intentions, or if he doesn't realize he is speaking to another member of their team. Perceptor is not the best at subtlety but he has been endeavoring to not be as obvious within the constraints of their mission's secrecy.]

I believe I can assist in the overnight research that has been taking place.

[naloxone]

[ she had met him briefly on the station, just before the rush of preparing for the mission consumed them all. she'd been grateful for another medical expert on the team, knowing the absence of some of their own would be a loss felt by many, so she wishes she had given herself more time to get to know him, make his welcome a little easier.

eventually, she sees him again, walking down the opposite side of the street from her. she smiles, lifts a hand and waves, hoping maybe to stop him for a quick chat over coffee or something like that. he smiles back, of course, but sort of jerkily nods his head before carrying on, and maybe it should have been enough to dismiss her... but there's a nagging in the back of her mind that tells her something isn't quite right.

kovacs is rubbing off on her, she thinks with a little sigh, turning on her heel to catch up to the other man. she sets a hand on his arm, just gentle enough to get his attention. ]

Hey — Clayton?

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton doesn't respond at first - the momentum of his body keeps him going before his possessor, busy restraining Clayton's soul, realizes that he's being addressed. By his real name. That makes this an Orber, and that's significant, isn't it?]

[After the odd pause, he abruptly spins on his heel with a too-wide smile.]

Hey! [Does he know this person? The way Clayton's soul is struggling harder suggests that he does. The possessor digs its heel into his spirit like its grinding a bug against pavement; eventually the memories it wants will come out, one way or another.] What's goin' on?

6.0

[legalcy]

See what?

[The tangible hologram of a teenager - who introduced herself as Minimus, the Cybertronian - looks over her shoulder at Clayton. She turns back at the normal interior of the school.]

Is someone in there? [How quickly they find the creature behind the spooky happenings in this town...]

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton blinks a few times. That looked like...the old Kage family manor? He's only ever been there once, and yet the image of it is so clear in his head that he might as well have lived there his whole life. He wishes he'd forgotten it.]

...No. [Clayton shakes his head and presses forward.] Seein' things. This place don't sit right with me. You sure you wanna do this?

[Clayton can't help asking this absolutely pointless question. Something about Minimus's disguise makes him nervous for her safety, in spite of the fact that he knows from Newt's recent network post that Minimus is definitely not a teenage girl, or even a squishy humanoid.]

[legalcy]

Of course. Turning back won't give us any answers. [The man is simply nervous. Minimus doesn't judge; not everyone is used to investigation in dangerous locations. He steps into the building and waits at the entrance in silence. No footsteps. No shapes hidden in the rooms.]

Nothing here.

[He beckons Clayton inside.]

I can still fight in this form, do not worry.

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton frowns slightly, a permanent, worried crease settling into his brow, but he follows in regardless. No matter how he personally feels about this place, or even if it's truly dangerous, what they're doing is probably illegal and could compromise their cover if they get caught without an excuse. Clayton couldn't leave Minimus alone to face the consequences of that in good conscience.]

[...Shit, but that's his personal mission, isn't it? There's nothing for it - this is a missed opportunity that Clayton refuses to take. He mentally kicks himself once, then lets it go.]

Alright...I'll take your word for it. [He pauses to close the front door behind them. The click of the latch resonates, too loud in the relative quiet of the empty building.]

[Some distraction would be nice.] If you don't mind my askin'...how does that work? This-- [Clayton gestures vaguely at Minimus's whole person.] --somethin' you picked just for this mission to blend in better, or do you always got it on tap?

[legalcy]

[Minimus has no reason to doubt Clayton's bravery and assumes he will follow him through the spooky school. Then again, this is his first mission and it might overwhelm him, but Minimus needs backup. He turns around to face the hallway.]

A solid-light projection Cybertronians use to better integrate into areas designed for smaller, organic beings. That, and driving around in our alt-modes without a driver would raise suspicion. [Not that a teen girl is expected to drive a minesweeper...] We have several, based on observations of the local species. There's a program to automatically design a form, but some design our own.

[He points to himself.] This one is based off of a human who I befriended.

[dr_unconscious]

[Solid light...Clayton nods along, though it's more out of politeness than actual understanding. He gets the concept at least; this is some kind of physical illusion that allows a giant robot (that might also be a car?) to not look like a giant robot (or a car, maybe).]

[The choice of form is much more interesting to him, anyway.]

Who was your friend? [Asked as Clayton pokes his head into the first classroom they come across. It looks like what he's expecting, but he holds the door open for Minimus anyway in case he wants to explore for himself.]