riverviewlogs | exploration mingle: CAPTIVITY

Entry tags:

exploration mingle: CAPTIVITY

who: everyone in Riverview!
what: exploration mingle: rescue mission!
when: June 15 - August 15
where: The River Structure
warnings: violence and/or torture; please put any necessary warnings in the subject lines

captivity

One of the major and most highly-valued cultural concepts in Riverview is that of exploration, expansion. Especially now that, with the recent influx of new arrivals, as the portal kicks into high gear for reasons not entirely known, the Inhabited City, already comfortably full, is rapidly becoming overpopulated. With all the refugees from other worlds pouring in from day to day, the city's safe space and resources are being taxed to their breaking point.

Right now, exploration and expansion is key, and each month, the government has decided to focus on a particular objective, in order to unite citizens in expanding, securing, and supplying the city for everyone's benefit.

the story so far

Exploration & Expansion Progress Report ● The Guardians of the Deep ● What Lies Beneath ● Plotting & Questions

After some serious flooding at the banks of the river, the cause was discovered to be the Guardians of the Deep, creatures protecting a circular labyrinthine structure underneath the river. Residents of the city explored and mapped the structure, and dealt with a good portion of the traps and other dangers, until they found a little piece of history in the Central Chamber of the structure, revealing that it was inhabited by the first people to live on the moon.

While this news has been exciting scholars and historians in the city, something a little more pressing has been bothering the average citizen - an ever-increasing number of missing persons. People have simply been disappearing all over the city, and only now are residents starting to realize why...

how it works

● Phases: Each prompt is a different phase of the operation. Characters may partake in whichever part of the operation they choose, whether it is a large and prominent part, or a more of a backseat or support role. Characters may participate in as many phases as they wish.

● Completion: When next month's exploration mingle goes up, the mission featured on this exploration mingle will be considered complete, and game canon, providing the entry has 200+ comments on it.

● Entry Reward: The reward for completion of this month's exploration objective will be...well, the safe return of everyone who was kidnapped. And some sweet hurt/comfort.

● IMPORTANT NOTE: Having observed how the pacing of exploration mingles has been going and how they are tagged, I have noticed that posting one exploration mingle each month has been a little hectic, both plotwise and for me as a mod (writing three mingles a month has been tough!). I have decided to space them out a bit further, and post an exploration mingle once every two months, starting with this one - the next exploration mingle will be posted in August!

phase i: the abducted

People don't simply go missing, they don't disappear into thin air, they have to be somewhere. And while those who are missing people keep frantically searching, those who have been kidnapped are the only ones besides the kidnappers who do know where they are.

Abducted by a group who have taken up residence in the structure under the city after last month's exploration died down, the missing are trapped in the Central Chamber, in fear of the kidnappers. Their abductors are a group of people that is starting to slowly take on cultist tendencies, believing that the remaining spirits of the First People still live in the structure, that it is a temple, and that those First People need offerings of host bodies to inhabit so they can return and bring their wisdom and magic back to the moon. Things are getting a little hairy - there's no agreement among the kidnappers as to how 'intact' the host bodies have to be and whether or not the sacrifice is in the form of alive or dead captives. Even worse, some of the kidnappers are only with the group to enjoy having power over others and using it to hurt them.

Captives are held in the Central Chamber of the structure, with next to no amenities. Blankets, food, water, and other necessities are in short supply, and they are kept huddled together, constantly guarded and either restrained, wearing or in the presence of a power suppressor to keep them subdued. But the captives haven't lost hope - they are working on getting a message out, finding a way to contact the outside world so their loved ones can rescue them...

This prompt is to play out interactions among the captives before they are rescued, and may include violence or other character suffering. It is also to enact plotted plans for the abductees to find connections with the outside world to summon help.

phase ii: distraction and infiltration

Once would-be rescuers become aware of where the captives are being held, they start making plans to rescue them - whether someone they love has been taken, they're just a good person, or they just want to feel like a big damn hero, there are lots of people willing to take the plunge and jump into the rescue. But the cult group has been in control of the structure for a while now, they definitely have the home team advantage. They know the lay of the land and where the traps are, and have used some of them to their own advantage.

It's not going to be as easy as storming the castle.

There are two parts to this phase of the rescue: a distraction and an infiltration. Distractions are planned to draw as many of the kidnappers away from the hostages being held in the Central Chamber as possible, while those who are stealthily infiltrating will try to find another entrance into the chamber so they can surprise and surround the remaining kidnappers.

This prompt is to play out any plans for distraction and infiltration. If you have plotted something out on the plotting post, feel free to post up a header for specific groups for threading rather than an individual character top-level.

phase iii: the brawl and after

Distractions only last so long, unfortunately, and so eventually the whole thing is going to break down into a big fight. Rescuers versus kidnappers, on the kidnappers' home turf, and surrounded by traps left over from the First People, while pieces of stationary tech throw out auras and waves of power suppression. It's going to be a doozy of a fight, so prepare for an epic throwdown!

And once the dust settles, there's going to be a lot of injuries to tend to, a lot of people traumatized and hurt and frightened. A lot of hungry, suffering people will need to be transported out, given medical care, and brought supplies.

This prompt is to play out the final fight between the kidnapping cult and the rescuers, as well as anything in the aftermath of the fight.

phase iv: wildcard

Have an idea for a mission-adjacent plot, or want to make up an unexpected plot twist or problem and solve it with your character? Just write up a starter, and don't forget to give yourself props by submitting it for the Progress Report.

navigation
[Asterion - Environment Art: Ariadne's Forest by Nicolas Mendoza]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ He slowly comes back to himself as he studies Laura's face, sees the dark splotches standing out on her skin. ]

The hell did they do to you?

[ But Picasso-Face is taunting them – again, though Peter hardly heard the asshole the first time. And when Laura tries to haul him up, he doesn't fight her, but— it's still a fucking struggle, because his everything hurts, and he bites down on his split lips to cage in the sad, strained noises he makes when they manage to get him sitting.

And when the bastard comments on Peter's music, when he sends Laura toppling to the ground and Peter with her, Peter props himself up on an elbow long enough to glare at the fucker, to silently promise the bastard a whole lot of fucking pain before this is over.

Predictably, the guy only grins as he disappears around a corner.

Peter's jaw clenches so tightly he thinks his teeth might shatter. He commits the dude's face to memory – it's a hard one to forget, in all honesty – and when the other cultists offers that helpful warning, Peter lifts a hand—

And flips him the bird.

He ignores the cultists, after that, turning his attention back to Laura. He gets himself half-sitting, one hand pressed against the worst of the ache on his side, the other propping him up. ]

You okay, kid?

[She shakes her head. What happened to her is not important right now; what is important is making sure they don't drag Peter off to god knows where, or punish further. He's at least half-sitting up now; small mercies. She just wishes she had her old strength, because it's not the first time she'll be dragging someone somewhere. Her father was fairly good at passing out, sick and dying as he was. That will not happen to Peter Quill, Star-Lord.]

Someone was angry. It's not important. Vamos — come on.

[She goes again, reaching for his arm, ushering him to stand up. Any of the passing captives are explicitly kept at bay from the two struggling, beat up figures in the walk path, the guards leaving them to their devices. It's only fair to give her a little time to get moving, perhaps.]

You have to lean on my shoulders and walk. We have to keep up.

[ It's a struggle, with the way his body protests, trying to insist that being horizontal is a whole lot easier than being vertical, but he lets Laura take his arm, throwing it around her shoulders. He grimaces, as he tries to get his feet under him, as his legs try to buckle, but he stays upright. Mostly.

God, he feels shitty about this. About leaning as heavily as he does against Laura. He sees the collar on her throat, similar to his own, sees the shackles around her wrists, and he's reasonably sure that means she's as human as anyone. She's just a kid, and she shouldn't be here, and they shouldn't be treating anyone like this, much less someone as young as Laura. He feels that familiar sense of anger burst in his gut, ugly and white-hot – at the unfairness of it all, at how fucked up it all is. That same kind of feeling he used to get as a kid, when the fourth-graders would jab at frogs with sticks. ]

I'm gonna kill that guy.

[ He casts the words low, quiet. A promise. An uncharacteristic rage, and something Laura surely hasn't seen from him before. People tend to accuse Peter of not taking things seriously, but he does, when it matters.

And man, can he hold a grudge. ]

I'm gonna cave in his face in so deep he'll be tasting his own stomach lining.

[She'll let him ramble about his homicidal rage, it's cool. She's focused for a while on just trying to keep the weight up, because she's eleven — a rather small eleven, one that never had any reason to develop muscles, because the skinny little limbs she has are already unfairly powered. But she's stubborn as hell, something that never really faded. She huffs after a moment, and yes, it sounds nice to cave in some faces. The one-armed man could use a punch back. She hopes he won't revisit and cast an eye on her again; maybe he's content with what licks he got in.]

You'll turn into a gremlin.

[But she doesn't sound like that's all that negative a thing, in this scenario.

Her legs tremble by the time they get halfway there, and she staggers sideways, one shoulder hitting the wall, nearly dropping the poor beat-up Quill in the process. She bites back a curse and tries to right herself more. Her face and back throbs, and she can feel the guards watching their every step. She's exhausted, but she clings more tightly to the cuff of Peter's jacket.]

If you see him, break the one-armed man's nose, too.

Edited (shh its late i'm too vague) 2018-06-18 07:55 (UTC)

Kid, I've been a gremlin.

[ He's pretty sure any chances of comparing himself to a nice little mogwai were lost the instant he left his mom alone, begging and reaching for him.

When she stumbles, he goes with her, bracing his arm against the wall the same instant her shoulder hits it. He grunts, biting down on his cut lip to cage in the pained noise that tries to escape him. His eyes screw shut for a second as he breathes through it, as he tries to will the way his bruised (broken?) ribs scream at him.

He uses his free hand to wipe at the blood dripping from his nose into his mouth, leaves a smear of it across his face and the back of his wrist. He files the information about the one-armed man away, like putting up a wanted poster right beside Picasso-face.

But he can feel the way Laura shakes with the strain of carrying him. She's just a kid, and if anyone should be the responsible one, it ought to be Peter, looking out for Laura. And if these assholes are totally on board with beating up a literal child, then there's probably not much they'll stop at. Peter makes a quick decision, pushing her forward a little. ]

I've got it from here.

You should go on ahead.

[She looks back with concern, brow furrowed — and hovers with her hands out, unsure if she should abide by what he says. After all, if he can't get to the holding area (still halfway there only, just halfway there, it's a long walk for someone so beat up), they may very well take him somewhere to do god knows what.

The worry is palpable for once on her bruised face. Her jaw aches with every word, frustration a heavy accent.]

You can't die, too. Don't fall.

[She's willing to let him try, but she'll be here in case he needs someone to collapse on.

You find strength somewhere when it's all gone, anyway; she'll have just enough to make sure he makes the trip.]

[ He offers a tight nod, using the wall as a crutch. He presses his other hand against his side again, curling a little as if to guard his injuries. He's done more with worse, he tells himself. He's been this beaten up before – hell, he's been stabbed and shot and bleeding out before – and he's pretty sure he can do this.

Predictably, he makes it a decent part of the way before his foot catches on an uneven step, and he stumbles forward, legs refusing to hold his weight. ]

[She doesn't give a crap if you feel bad about it, she's gonna immediately shove her shoulders forward and catch the poor guy. She hisses at the sharp pain in her back at the motion but holds fast... for about ten seconds. Then they list sideways and actually hit the floor. She lays there for a moment exhausted, fingernails scraping against the cement floor as she squeezes her eyes shut.

Just a little further. Come on. Just a little further. He could die if you don't.

Think of Logan. Think of dad. How you weren't enough, and he died.

She staggers to her feet and grabs him by the arms; he's barely even conscious if he is at all, really, and she can see that he pushed to the bitter limit until some hitch in the floor ruined his groove and reminded him of how cement to the face feels. And somehow, she manages to pull him the last of the way, dripping sweat and shaking with the weight. Couldn't you have been a skinny twig of a guy, and not all this muscle? She doesn't remember how she got into the holding room, but. Here she is. And he's here, too. It works out.

She collapses right next to him.

Bless their hearts.

... A beat.]

Lose weight.

[ we can't all be toshinori, okay

Honestly, that home stretch is something of a blur, and he's not entirely sure how it is that Laura manages to catch him, or even how she manages to drag his useless ass the rest of the way. When they fall into the chamber, he groans, arms wrapping around his middle as he curls around his injured ribs.

Fuck, he's going to kill these bastards. Every last goddamn one. Twice, somehow. Someone around here is bound to have some kind of bullshit magic that would bring people back, if only temporarily, right?

It takes a minute – maybe longer, maybe less; he's not sure – before he coughs, spits blood out of his mouth, and he lifts his head enough to peer at Laura, sprawled out beside him. He swallows down guilt and rage (and something sour that he suspects might be fear), and all he's left with is worry. ]

You okay?

[Her face is pinched with pain, but she smooths it out and looks at him when he asks her a question - one that should be easy. She heals instantly. She did heal instantly. But now there's blood in her hair and bruises on her cheek, and her back is radiating pain that she's currently steering her focus vehemently from. Usually the doctors clean up the kids, make sure they're at their best again. But here, it seems they couldn't care less whether they can endure.

Some of them have fought over it. Should they see how far they can survive? Should their host bodies be as preserved as possible? Their cult ideals are fractured and make no sense. Not that Laura can think much on it, at her age; she doesn't understand any of it.]

... Tired. I do not... think I can move for a while.

[She sounds ashamed of the fact. It's weakness. She was trained not to be anything of the sort.]

[ That's one hell of an understatement, and he can tell. He knows. He's been in her shoes before — his situation wasn't nearly as fucked up, admittedly, but he knows a brave face when he sees one, knows all too well that she's trying to hide her weakness.

He bites down on the ugly, pained noises he makes as he forces himself to sit, as he props himself up against a wall. He looks up briefly, to see the cultist who stole his Zune, head bobbing in time with music as he flashes Peter a smile that looks more like a grimace. Peter wants nothing more than to charge across the chamber and drive him through a wall, but—

But there are more important things. And he looks back at Laura, reaching out a hand and gesturing for her to take up a spot beside him. ]

C'mon. You can get some rest. I'll keep an eye out.

[Laura manages to crawl a little, her arms and legs quivering with weariness, and the moment she gets to the spot beside him she's already sagging a little into his arm. She's glad he's there to keep an eye out, because her stomach would be curdled and ill at the thought of the one-armed man returning while she was asleep - though she supposes now he's not technically one-armed anymore. Metal-armed just doesn't ring as well in her ears. When was the last time she slept? She can't even honestly remember.

It reminds her that she and Poe had been among the first. The eighth, she remembers. She had been going on a walk... and then - She hopes Poe is alright. They were separated.]

... They took Poe and I five days ago, but it feels much longer when there's no sun.

[She shifts, exhausted.

Her eyes drift closed without her meaning to. And it is peaceful - for a time. Hours pass, and they are allowed a moment of reprieve, and it's worthwhile rest. She's so depowered and out of her element, she doesn't even budge an inch in her exhaustion at the sound of heavy footfalls nearby. Sure enough, it's the one-armed man's turn to guard the room. And he stands right in front of Laura, as he always does, his arms folded and his eyes sharp on her. But perhaps Peter is a solid force that stops him from doing anything -- because he doesn't cross the imaginary line that is Peter Quill's outstretched foot.

He is strikingly similar to a carnivore waiting for a mother to look away from its young.]

[ Five days? And Peter stiffens, glancing down at her. (That same sense of guilt again, that weird thing that tells him he should have seen this coming, he should've known—)

But she's already drifting to sleep, and Peter leaves her to it.

He tips his head back against the wall, forcing himself to take deep breaths in spite of the way his ribs protest. "Breathe through it," the Ravager medic always told him. (Peter had hated that bastard, but grudgingly admitted the guy knew what he was doing.) "You don't breathe right, then your lungs aren't gonna be happy with you."

He's half-asleep, in those few hours that pass – so much for keeping watch, huh? – but the purposeful rustle of movement and the low murmur of conversation signals to him something is happening. Peter rouses, blinking awake as the cultists seem to go through a guard rotation. The man with the metal arm marches in with purpose, and Peter wonders if that's the dude Laura means. Technically, he's got two arms, but only one is real, so—?

Peter's questions are answered once the dude steps in front of them, gaze piercing as he stares down at the kid nestled against Peter's side. Peter straightens, glaring up at the guy in return, and curling his arm a little more protectively around Laura's shoulders.

Peter doesn't say a word, but the look on his face says it for him: Back the fuck off, dickmunch, or I'll rip your arm off and shove it up your ass. ]

[The man crouches, eyes fixed on Peter's now.

"You're backing the wrong horse here, fella. I'm just trying to do the spirits a favor and weed out the unworthy bodies. Do you really think a child capable of killing one man and doing this-" he nudges his metal arm up. "-is gonna be welcomed by the First People as a viable conduit for their goodness? They won't want her. But I'd love to take her off your hands."

A pause, eyes piercingly bright in the dimness. He's bloodthirsty for his own revenge, for his friend, for his arm; he wants his cruel schedule back. It crumples his face, leaves dark shadows. "Divine punishment. I can even get your music player back. Can pop in the ol' earbuds, and you won't hear a moment of it. Just close your eyes. A fair trade. What do you say?"]

[ Peter doesn't move a muscle when the dude crouches down, just keeps glaring like that might do a single goddamn thing.

He lets the guy talk and valiantly keeps himself from rolling his eyes. This bullshit about the First People just sounds like a dumb story to Peter, like The Exorcist or Ghostbusters. It's dumb and fake as hell, even if the cultists seem to believe it.

The instant the dude mentions his Zune, though, Peter freezes, gritting his teeth. When the guy finishes his spiel, a muscle in Peter's jaw tics, and for a few seconds, Peter can't bring himself to respond. The guy's looking at him so expectantly, and Peter seriously can't believe this guy thought that bargain would work. ]

Listen, Tin Man, how about you go bother someone else? Go hang out with your buddies and drink more of that Kool-Aid?

Maybe one of them can help you polish up that rusted-up arm.

[A twitch in the man’s jaw says that Peter’s smart mouth is certainly working, regardless of how beat to hell the guy is — and for a moment the man seems liable to lunge. But he breathes out through his nose, clenching and unclenching his metal fist.

“Very nice. Nice try. You can barely even breathe properly, you sore sight— could just rip her right out of your arms and you’d never be able to put up a fight above half-assed flailing.”

“Shiloh, could you give a hand out here?” A timid voice speaks up from the doorway; it’s one of the anxious, unsure looking guards that had watched Peter get his ass kicked — and had watched Laura and him struggle to leave the hall. They stand fidgeting now. “If you don’t mind using that strong arm for moving supplies? I’m afraid I’m not very muscular.”

Shiloh’s hands twitch. He smiles. “... Anything for the First People. I can come back when certain mouthy roadblocks are cycled out of the area.” He rocks back on his feet, looking down on the two figures. “I hate to tell you this in all your limited wisdom — but you can’t protect anyone. Not a damn thing.”

The man starts out, unsatisfied with his usual vengeance, while the anxious cultist looks at Peter, their eyes flashing with guilt before they too move into the hallway. Laura shifts a minute later, voice low, not quite afraid — but too soft to be anything good.]

Is he gone?

[ Peter goes rigid, poised to spring. The guy isn’t completely wrong; the sorry state Peter’s in now, he can’t imagine he’ll be able to put up much of a fight.

But that doesn’t mean he won’t. Because Peter isn’t above fighting dirty, if he has to, isn’t above kicking a dude in the balls or going for the eyes. And more than that, Peter never knows when to stay down, and he doesn’t learn.

The new voice startles him, though, and Peter’s gaze darts to the— kid. Well, maybe not a kid, but some young guy. When Dr. Claw – Shiloh, apparently – leaves with those kind words, Peter just glares after him, wearing that same look that dares the guy to start shit with him. He catches the gaze of the younger guy, sees the flash of shame on his face, and maybe that should help Peter feel better, but it absolutely doesn’t. Just a touch of sympathy isn’t going to fly very far when they’re all stuck down here in the first place, shackled and collared and herded like cattle.

When Laura shifts and speaks, Peter’s arm tightens around her again. ]

We’re good.

[ Quietly, if a little heatedly. ]

What a total douchebag.

[She hums, staring at the far wall, looking a bit checked-out.

Until — ]

I did not have pancakes to throw, so I cut his arm off.

[Ah, there we go.]

[ if it weren’t for the fucked-up situation they currently find themselves in, Peter might bark out a laugh with how bluntly she puts it.

But, well, laughing sounds like an awful idea right now – both for drawing unwanted attention and for how it would probably jar his injured ribs – so he settles instead for a lopsided smile. ]

Yeah. I think you made the right call.

He’s the one that grabbed you?

[She nods, cheek scuffing against his jacket.]

He tried. And failed.

[Because she lopped his arm off. But.]

They were taking Poe, so I came to help. But then they put the collar on me, and I couldn't use my claws... I could not heal. [She holds up a shaky hand, where there are scabbed up cuts in her knuckles — when the collar went on and her claws retracted, it left injuries that couldn't heal.] I had pain tolerance sessions in Transigen, though, so it's not as bad as the other children held here. I would rather it be me than them that people are angry at.

[ He glares in Shiloh’s general direction, where he disappeared through the doorway, and— yeah. Once they get busted out of here, if he sees that guy before Laura does, he’s definitely going to beat his face in, too, or possibly use the dude’s ribs like a xylophone, like he’s seen in cartoons.

But the mention of “pain tolerance sessions” snaps him out of that particular fantasy, and he tries to hide his grimace. ]

... You need to be careful, okay? These guys obviously aren’t gonna hold back, just ‘cause you’re a kid.

[ He takes a breath, carefully licking his lips, trying to avoid the worst of the cuts there. Peter knows the cultists are going to figure out a way to separate the two of them, which means Peter won’t be able to step in for Laura if she gets in over her head.

(He’s wise enough to know that he won’t be able to talk her out of it wholesale, like he wants to. He knows that even if he says, “Keep your head down. Make sure they don’t notice you,” she’ll ignore him completely.

Mostly because that’s exactly what he would have done as a kid, too.) ]

I know this is gonna be shitty to hear, and even shittier for me to say, but— you can’t take on everything. Help who you can, but you won’t be able to help everyone. You gotta choose your battles.

[Hey man, Laura will not have the chance to kill anyone in here when all is said and done, so have at them. Maybe it's for the best that she doesn't; Loki and Kirk'll stop her from any sort of rampage that drags her further from herself. But that's not for here. Here, she's thinking of cutting off his other arm; would her father approve of that kind of spite? Or maybe he'd be the one cutting the arms off.

She likes to think he loved her enough to have her covered. He came back for her, after all.

She gives him a look that is rather humorous.]

Choose your battles.

Like... getting beat up over your music player?

[Her eyebrows rise up high on her head.]

[ don’t @ him like this, Laura.

Not that he seems to mind, considering he doesn’t hesitate: ]

Yeah.

[ He scrubs the good side of his face, breathing through the flare of anger that licks against the inside of his sternum. ]

... It was from my dad.

[She stares at him for a moment, dark eyes thoughtful.

With a wince, she shifts enough to reach up and tug at the nearly hidden chain around her neck; a few tugs and dogtags topple out of her shirt to sit in one hand. WOLVERINE and LOGAN look back at them, old but still well-cared for.]

These are from mine. But he didn't give them to me.

They were a gift, from Riverview.

[Tit for tat.

She looks at them carefully.]

He did not know I existed until I escaped the lab.

[ Another sympathetic glance, and Peter looks back to the dog tags sitting in her palm. ]

He didn’t give the Zune to me, either. Didn’t have a chance to, because he— died. Saving me.

[ He shifts, ostensibly to get a little more comfortable, but in practice, he’s trying to buy himself some time to think. ]

Yondu wasn’t really my father, but— he was still my dad. A shitty one, most of the time – hell, almost the entire time. The old bastard barely knew what he was doing, treated me like crap, but... he did what he could.

He was an awful dad, and we both knew it, but we still ended up saddled with each other.

I guess it turned out okay.

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