taxonomites | Entries tagged with { john sheppard

echodimpression.livejournal.com

Echo had been wandering, close to drifting since Topher had left but had kept herself quiet and out of the way. She'd checked the tablets and the immediate area to where they'd been staying but Topher was nowhere to be there. The chair was still there, unused and untested since it had been built and it was staying that way. That wasn't the only thing that was strange as of late. When Echo had awoken that morning there'd been more; not around but in herself. The memories were clear, who she was and, most noticeably who she wasn't. Echo hadn't felt like this in a while, at least not as clear as this. She'd started to remember but it had been more faded, muted. Now? Now Echo remembered everything. Boyd knew and now, so did Paul. She'd left and he'd gone with her; helping her more and protecting her. Now it wasn't about Caroline, it was about her. Bennett had helped with that, showing her a glimpse of Caroline, someone who now Echo wasn't sure if she wanted to be. She'd saved this body for her, but did she deserve to have it?

The memories filled her; memories, this time, of what had happened rather than of everyone else. They'd returned to the Dollhouse. Solitary, Alpha. Paul. So much had happened, there was so much that they'd done. Six months. Echo hadn't been in Taxon for six months but she had that many memories filling her now, falling into place.

For now, Echo didn't know what to do. She was sure that someone could tell her, if she reached, but for her? Taxon was just as complicated as LA had been. And now, Echo felt even more alone.

"This isn't right."

Now, more than ever, Echo needed to return. Paul was in a coma and now, in Alpha's head. If she wasn't there, who would stop him?

ltnuhura.livejournal.com

If anyone were watching Uhura step onto the bridge of the Enterprise, they wouldn't have assumed that anything was amiss. And nothing was, until the doors slid shut behind her and she took a look around.

This wasn't the bridge she knew. It looked the same, but there were things about it that were...off. But she couldn't put her finger on why things weren't right, and it irritated her.

Frowning, she started heading over to her station, then stopped suddenly and looked down at herself. And what was wrong there was more obvious - this wasn't the right uniform at all. The skirt was the right length, but it was all one dress, not the midriff-baring top and skirt she was used to.

She looked up and around, trying to find some more clues that would tell her where she was and what was happening. And then she spotted it on the main viewscreen.

"NCC 17-01?" Her disgust and anger was ill-disguised, hands clenched into fists as her eyes narrowed. "U.S.S. Enterprise? What the hell is happening here?"

[OOC: uhura's ~~finally~~ been glitched! she is now the mirror version of herself, meaning she'll be quick to anger and that there's the possibility of her getting aggressive/violent, but i will be sure to clear things with you before she does anything to your character. proceed with caution and have fun. :)

also, my apologies for taking so long to get this up and thanks for your patience! ♥]

bantos-queen.livejournal.com

Teyla watched as Ronon checked on the family on the other side of the barn. Huddled together, the father leaned over, speaking lowly to his children, his wife absentmindedly stroking their hair as she pulled the youngest to them. Coughing into the cloth held over her nose, she closed her eyes for a moment. She hadn't wanted to look away from the family, but the acridness of the smoke causing her eyes to water.

She looked up as Ronon made his way back to her side, leaning his back against her arm.

"What are we gonna do?" he asked, his voice husky and low from the smoke.

Teyla shook her head slightly, her voice mirroring his in its huskiness, "There is no place to go."

"I'm not good at sittin' around waiting to die" Ronon looked outside, contemplating their options, "Maybe we can make it back to the base on foot."

"Outside?" Teyla's eyes followed his. Ash was thick in the air, creating a blanket that was nearly impossible to see through. The stench of sulfur and other things she could not identify hung heavy around them, making it hard to breathe. The people who had tried to outrun this came to her mind and she pushed them out. They could not save them. They might not even be able to save themselves. "We will never make it. As long as we can breathe, there is still hope. We may be able to last a few minutes longer in here than out there."

Time passed slowly for them, every minute seeming longer then the one before. Teyla could feel her breaths becoming shallower, a wheeze developing every time she pulled in more of the noxious air. Her skin was slick with sweat, her eyes red, beyond watering now, she could barely keep them open. Forcing them wide she looked over at the family, lying down now, as if even sitting were too hard. The mother was still stroking the youngest's hair, but her movements were weak.

Turning her head she looked at Ronon, the weakness of her voice disheartening to her, "They are still alive, but barely." It would not be long before they could not breathe, and once they were unable to breathe there was no more hope, She fought for each breath as she tried to speak, struggling, "Perhaps you were right. We should have tried to make it back to the base on foot"

"No," Ronon's voice was still husky but weak, "You were right. We'd be dead. As long as we can breathe, there's still hope."

It was an unmistakeable feeling, the Asgard beaming technology, the briefest momentary tickle, almost disconcerting as it locked on to her, before she rematerialized, on the deck of the Pegasus. The fresh air burned as it hit her lungs, the room not the one she had expected.

Teyla rolled into a crouch, dropping off the platform, P90 braced and ready to fire. "Ronon," Her voice was still husky, her eyes darting around, taking in her surroundings. This room was sterile, but not one she was used to. Not the Pegasus, and not any planet that she recognized. Could they have beamed her elsewhere, could this have been some sort of mistake? "Ronon? Colonel Sheppard?" Standing slowly, gun still at the ready, she tapped her earpiece, turning to survey her surroundings, "Colonel Sheppard? John? Are you there?"

glowingseer.livejournal.com

Well, this was pathetic.

God, she couldn't even stand. All Cordelia could do was sit there, with her back against the wall in some alley, clutching her broken shoulder and trying so hard not to cry. And the irony that this started with her trying to help a guy she thought she knew, who was doing his own version of brooding in an alley? Not lost on her.

She supposed she was lucky that he stopped before outright killing her. Although now? That would've been better. Because if she was dead, then that meant she wouldn't have to deal with this painful aftermath after all.

Cordelia sucked in her breath and closed her eyes. Maybe if she stayed like this, still and silent - then the pain would go away. Or maybe one of the brainless extras would actually grow a brain and offer to help her.

...or not.

Her tablet. She needed her tablet. Slowly looking around her, Cordelia was relieved to find it lying a few feet away - it probably fell when that bastard made her float like some sort of balloon. Gingerly she used her good hand to reach for it.

"Uh, a little help?" Now. Now would be good, before she passed out. "Please?"

[ooc: Aftermath of this thread!]

sgmitchell.livejournal.com

The days blurred since about Halloween, and it wasn't hard to figure out why. Sure, the Replicators appearing all over the base had been disquieting to invoke a few nightmares, but he had enough of those on his own. After a bit, if you couldn't deal with the nightmares, you resigned.

No, what kept him restlessly wandering the mountain this past month wasn't the Replicator scare (which he deduced was about as real as anything else that day). It was the fact that one of his teammates--a close friend and someone he'd invested a good amount of faith in getting them free--vanished shortly thereafter. He'd given it a good amount of time: maybe she'd gone investigating. Maybe she'd gotten herself stuck in another dimension for a bit. He quit believing that for his own well-being, after the first week or so.

Maybe she'd gotten one chance to get out, and was marshaling Stargate Command's forces.

Maybe.

There was only so long he could wander the Mountain, thinking about the possibilities, before the pleasant oasis of home became an oppressive reminder of where he wasn't. Short of a few things, such going with Sam to the Halloween events, he hadn't really bothered to leave the Mountain since he'd found it. The city almost qualified as a new world to explore, as such.

He'd have been happier if there were a Stargate on the other end of the maze.

Still. He could do with fresh air and sunshine, before he became completely pale and drawn. Cameron blinked up at the dark gray sky, and suppressed a sigh as the first drop of rain splashed across his face. He could do with fresh air, at least.

It was hard to say how long he wandered the city--but he assumed it couldn't have been long. He could still make out the mountain in the distance, and it was still raining, after all. In retrospect, however, he might have done better exploring with a map. Of course, there was the tablet.

He frowned down at the tablet, and switched it to visual (before it tried anything funny on him). "Any chance this thing's map can display the nearest steakhouse?"

[ooc: Not actually back, per se, but trying to pretend I am anyway.]

browncoatdevil.livejournal.com

It was the annoying sound of medical equipment that started to seep louder in to Gwen's ears as the seconds passed. You know the sound. The beeps of screens watching heart rates, maybe the sounds of the IV kicking on again as medication was sent out along the line, or the sounds of the oxygen tank working in the background. Sounds that were commonly associated with being in a stuffy building and being woken every few minutes by staff. Except.. the red head couldn't remember being woken once. Well she honestly couldn't remember anything over however long she had been asleep. That in its self felt like ages.

With a groan the woman raised her lifted her left hand to rub at tired eyes. Everything felt stiff and sore- she could have sworn that either she had drunk to much or else she had been in one heck of a barfight. "Mmm... Jay? Drew? Where th' gorram is everyone?" she managed to choke out before swallowing hard. "We meet th' contact?" She'll get to the whole realizing where she is in a minute or two.

gating-across.livejournal.com

"It's November... meaning Thanksgiving. Turkey, stuffing, pie, and football." Sheppard addressed the tablet once he had turned on the visual feature.

He was sitting at the water trap of the golf course in Wilde. Not that anyone else went there. Besides, well, obviously the Extras. They didn't really count. Not according to Sheppard. He looked up at the sky and made a face. Cloudy again. It was more like weather in Atlantis than it was on Earth. Either rain or sun. A little comforting, he supposed.

"So, the question is: what the hell are we gonna do for Turkey Day?"

always-a-cover.livejournal.com

The Halloween party had not gone the way Sarah had planned. In fact to say it was an unmitigated disaster from the moment she'd donned that costume wouldn't have been that far off. She was lucky, she supposed, that it hadn't been worse. Even if the idea of facing Shep again was close to having to talk about her feelings with John Casey in one of those work-training sessions she'd always managed to avoid.

The costume had been stuffed under her bed for days now, and Sarah knew she needed to do something about it. She didn't want to throw it out or stuff it back in the hatch (though she did have some creative ideas of just what she could do to the hatch that had given it to her, she knew there was little point). So she'd ended up in the small park near her apartment, the dress stuffed into a metal drum. A bit of lighter fluid and a match, and it was burning merrily away.

"And that's the end of that," she said, brushing her hands together with smug satisfaction. Too bad she hadn't noticed her tablet had been broadcasting the entire thing.

redeemedripper.livejournal.com

John had broke from slumber in a most unsatisfying way. Gasping, the top half of his body thrust itself up. His eyes searched the room. This place wasn't right. He was in his quarters of Helen's Sanctuary, but the problem was, he couldn't remember how or why he was there. Tossing the blankets off of his body, John leaped out of bed and snatched up his cane still left over from the party. He couldn't remember the party, but the cane was all too familiar.

His own reflection caught his attention. John turned to fully face himself. He didn't look as he remembered at all. One careful hand reached up to touch the bare skin atop his head. What was this madness? Had he been drugged, changed? He grabbed the nearest coat, something heavy and black. At least some things remained true to his nature. John pulled the coat over his shoulders before slipping on shoes and quickly heading for the door.

He needed to get out of this place. He had a feeling he knew who was behind this capture, but he dared not say her name. She hunted him for his own good, she had once told him. It was laughable. She didn't understand this sickness, this urge that drove him to do all those terrible things. It pulsed within him much like it did now. His hands needed blood on them.

It wasn't long before he was on the streets. Cool air touched his extremities and John let out a long sigh of relief. Night came with such sweet promises. He knew he would be successful, even if the streets were foreign. Every town had its degenerates. Every town needed cleansed. John walked slowly, cane striking the pavement with each step. He had returned. The ripper.

[[ooc Welcome to the Ripper!John glitch. He doesn't look any different ~~mostly because I can't find enough icons and I'm too lazy to upload back and forth~~ but he's still the same ol' Jack the Ripper of old. If you have an interest in getting hurt or fighting him off, I'm up for pretty much anything, so just toss an ooc note in your first post so I know what limitations to expect, alright? Have fun!]]

glowingseer.livejournal.com

"Guys, let's have a chat, shall we? I'll go to the hotel. You better be there when I come in." These words were spoken in a sweet tone, but the intent behind them was far from sweet. Finally, finally after several weeks of wondering - should I, shouldn't I ask? - Cordelia had come to a decision. And it wasn't pretty.

She went to a hatch and took out a bottle of vodka - something she deemed was necessary for her chat with Angel and Wesley. She'd get one man drunk or bash the other over the head with it - whatever's necessary to get some answers. She's tired of playing the ignorant role that they've unwittingly assigned to her, and damnit, Cordelia was going to listen to how the hell her friends ended up working for the enemy. She knew she wouldn't like it - but at least she would know.

"Angel?" she called, stepping into the hotel. She deposited her tablet on the counter. "Wesley! Where are you? I need to--"

BAM.

The room spun, and somewhere in her head there was an incessant buzzing. The bottle she held crashed to the floor, breaking into pieces and spraying liquid everywhere. Cordelia took several steps back, her mind numb and aching and geez, was it a vision? Impossible! Visions weren't supposed to hurt anymore since she was--

--lost?

When she opened her eyes, she found herself alone in a lobby of some sort. There was a broken bottle in front of her; where did it come from? Frowning, she avoided the mess and looked around. No. She wasn't afraid. She wasn't!

"Hello?" she called timidly, heading towards the counter. "Anyone here?" She picked up a phone-like thing and peered at it curiously. "What... where the hell am I?"

[Cordelia's amnesia glitch. Hello salty confusion!]

notanemptymotto.livejournal.com

Despite the odd weather changes that had come over the usually unclouded Taxon skies, Helen Magnus continued with her plans to have a party on All Hallows Eve. Normally, Helen wouldn't even consider such things, but given that most of her residents would be expecting one? She didn't mind having one for the occasion. On the morning of Halloween she left a message over the tablets in text format giving the location and the optional part. Costumes were completely optional. Not everyone wanted to dress up, after all.

Helen spent the rest of the day in the large kitchen preparing various dishes as well. It felt nice to be out of the office or lab and take a day to enjoy herself and the company of others. She hoped Ashley would understand. And once the festivities started, she could most likely slip back to work without anyone noticing. Hopefully Henry would get her message about closing off most the Sanctuary so the guests wouldn't be lost. If any showed up at all, that was.

As evening fell, though it was hard to tell due to the weather, Helen had the EM shield placed down and opened the gates of the Sanctuary. All of the food was already placed out in the foyer with only a few of the hallways open. Mainly those directed towards the kitchen or the restrooms and the living room located downstairs.

Welcome to the party, Taxon. It'll be a ghoulish night.

[ooc; posting this early since I won't be on a lot until later on Halloween night ♥ Just work this post like how Cordy's part post was ya'll. Also if you lovelies that live in the Sanctuary could pop over to Helen's journal and post here, it'll be marvelous~!]

echodimpression.livejournal.com

Echo had found that this place could be somewhere that she would enjoy: it wasn't the Dollhouse which was reason enough; no treatments or engagements, no pain. Topher's place was nice, spa-like like the Dollhouse but smaller and a lot quieter. Topher had set on working on a chair but Echo didn't know how she felt about this: if he imprinted her then she had a cover but she would rather be herself. After going to the beach the previous day Echo had hatched herself a bag for today, big enough to fit the imprint wedge of Caroline in; she didn't want to leave it lying around.

Without disturbing Topher Echo left the home, walking around Taxon whilst keeping a check on the map to see where she was going. There were shops and people around but these people didn't seem too inclined to help or stop their business to talk with her; either they knew something more or they were as real a person as she was. Leaving them alone Echo found herself a bench to sit at, enjoying sitting and watching. Apart from being held here, Echo couldn't find anything about this place that she didn't like and if she had a choice, she might wish to stay.

mylifeisjoy.livejournal.com

The first thing that enters Gaila's mind is that it's too quiet. Silence buzzes in her ears, worsening her headache, and she groans as she curls loosely into the fetal position. Memories rush into her, and Gaila remembers panicked orders and cries of pain — there were flames, and the brightness of the Farragut's destruction blurred her vision; she can't remember the expression on anyone's face. She isn't sure she saw them.

For a moment, she wants to stay curled up and safe and forget the ambush, forget her injuries, forget her dead crew. Gaila knows better, though; that's giving up, that she could still be in danger; that knowledge twists her stomach, and fear chokes her momentarily.

So she raises her head and, slowly, pushes off the floor. She expects to feel pain in her arm, burns on her side, blood in her mouth — but nothing. She assumes she is just too numb and doesn't check her healed injuries; she thinks she knows what's there.

Gaila recognizes the room is not part of the Farragut. It's too dim, too bare, too clinical. She, quickly, takes note of the transporter and a tablet, sitting on a pedestal — just sitting there, as if it's meant for her. It's ridiculous, and she regards it as part of another trap. Still, she examines the tablet, flipping through modes and every window, no matter how unnecessary or pointless.

That's when she finds the map, with dots and names — familiar names. Commander Spock, Jim Kirk, Nyota Uhura. Relief rushes over Gaila; she's safe.

Quickly, Gaila returns to the holo mode and pauses. Her throat feels raw, and she realizes she isn't sure what to say, besides shouting "HELP ME." She knows one look at her screams that loud and clear, though: her usually tight bun is loose, and her unform is obviously battered — singed and bloody. The dark green color of her blood stands out vividly against her uniform.

Gathering herself, she takes a deep breath and finds her words. "This is Cadet Gaila. The distress call from Vulcan — " Gaila swallows, her expression darkening. "It was an ambush. The Farragut is destroyed... I, I think the rest of my crew is dead."

Gaila's lower lip trembles for a few seconds, sadness squashing her relief. She's silent a few moments; the proper dialogue for requesting assistance is on the tip of her tongue, but she can't bring herself to speak anymore. She regrets beginning her message with the ambush.

"I need help. Gaila, out."

gating-across.livejournal.com

Sheppard had enough of Taxon screwing with all of them. Bringing people, places from home, then taking them away. He had seen people disappear and never return. He'd seen it happen a lot in Afghanistan, in the Pegasus Galaxy, now here. At least he had the solace that Tyler hadn't been taken by the Wraith and fed on.

At least there weren't any Wraith in Taxon. Or Ori. Or Gao'uld. Or whatever evil alien race that wanted to destroy them this time.

So, he made his way to the nearest bar and made his order. Tonight he didn't want to think about anything except getting shitfaced.

islegendary.livejournal.com

Jack has kept too himself too much. Lost track of the new comers. Gotten confused by those he did meet. And still annoyed he can't find Vala. Maybe even worried, not that he'd admit to that one.

Then this morning he looked at his tablet and saw something he wasn't to happy to see. The date. Truth be told, he hurled the tablet at the wall when he saw it. It wasn't going to be a good day. And he didn't want to be reminded he was a year older. Eventually, he left the confines of the cabin. He didn't go far. He camped himself out on the edge of his dock. Fishing might do something to improve his mood. If not that, he had a steady supply of beer in an ice chest next to him on the dock.

He cast his line out and mumbled to himself, "Easy there, O'Neill...you got more control than that."

always-a-cover.livejournal.com

The most frustrating thing Sarah had discovered was that this place seemed to be exactly what she'd been told it was. It didn't make sense but they really all seemed to be trapped here for no real reason. She couldn't report back to Casey or reach anyone in the CIA. Honestly, she'd been hoping that she'd find Fulcrum behind this, or some other organisation. A simple solution, a need to escape, everything coming together as it should. Without a motive or anyone to apportion blame to, she didn't quite know where to start.

The apartment she'd found was as impersonal as the dozens of others she'd lived in through the years. The only difference here was there'd been something waiting for her. A box she recognised. The one her father had left buried for her, just in case. She'd stuffed it down at the bottom of a drawer and left it there. She was good at ignoring the past.

There was what could pass as a park outside her building. A strip of grass, trees, two benches. It was as good a place as any to sit and make notes about what she knew about this place so far. Just because there didn't seem to be a way out didn't mean that she'd give up. Simply accepting she was stuck here?

"Not ever," she said as she flipped open to a new page, not noticing that the tablet she'd set down beside her had turned on.

freaks-myword.livejournal.com

Out of all moments for the Tablet to switch on, and Gwen barely notices. No interruption of any skulking, or smirking, or stealing, however. Taxon has caught her off-guard. She's on a rooftop, staring out into the empty, stormless sky. In her palm, she's holding a small, black ops device. LISA, the thing that renders the freak touchable. And she cradles it gently in her palm.

As if caught by a sudden urge, she rips off one red glove and crushes the thing in her palm, blue sparks transmitting the thing to nothing but an unimportant, indistinguishable scrap of metal. LISA is no more. She chucks what's left of it off the roof.

If you're wondering why her eyes are so focused, why her face is bereft of the coy, careless playfulness it usually shows, feel free to ask her, at your own risk. Memories are flying through her head. Now she gets what Spike said, when he arrived. But hell if she's going to lower herself to talk to him about it. She has an idea of what he'd say.

Cuddling with Nate, just wanting to be held, because she finally can.
The sky lighting up. L.A. being sent to hell.
LISA malfunctioning. Nate burnt to a crisp.
A fight in a sewer. The son of a vampire. Fighting by his side, fighting by his side. Gunn, the betrayal, her betrayal. Cordelia the Dragon. The rooftop. Her death. Her sacrifice.

Every once in a while, Gwen actually yearns for a storm. This is one of those times.

[ooc: CANON BUMP through the Angel: After The Fall comic series.]

graygirlpip.livejournal.com

What wasn't to like about time off? Chiana had been begging for something just like this for more solar days than she could count. The pleasure planet was right up her alley. With a drink in one hand and a line of guys coming to offer her all sorts of fun, Chiana knew she was in her element.

"Boys, there's plenty to go around." She ticked her head to one side, "Girls, too, for that matter." She laughed long and loud before drinking deeply from her glass. Her head tilted back and she kept drinking until it was gone. "Now who was next in line to buy me another?" One of the men disappeared for the bar. Chiana didn't plan on staying still for long enough to wait on him. She mingled through the crowd, dancing as she walked. There were bodies everywhere. She didn't know any of them, but what did it matter.

The lights flickered, pulsed with the beat. Chiana closed her eyes and just felt the music. She was getting into it when the room went silent. Dead silent. Chiana opened her eyes, more than a little confused. Where was the bar? Where were the boys, the girls, the drinks? Chiana crouched low, head tilting at an extreme angle as she tried to figure this out. Had she lost time again?

She glanced around, catching the glint of the metal band imbedded in her wrist. She scratched at it for a moment, then sniffed. "Okay, jokes over. Crichton?" she paused, nothing. "Jool?" Again, nothing. "D-D'Argo? C'mon. I was just having a bit of fun. That's what we're supposed to do here, right?" She was most surprised not to hear a snarl of a reply to that.

Glancing up, Chiana saw the tablet. Still in a partially crouched position, she sidestepped over to the pedestal and grabbed for the device. She tapped on it, pressing a few buttons, trying to figure the frelling thing out.

islegendary.livejournal.com

He did promise Daniel he'd find Vala. Which he is doing. He gives her credit for being good at eluding him, not that he'll admit that one. Still... he knows he'll find her.

Jack headed down a deserted street on his way to the next on his list of places to check. He almost hates to admit it but, finding her is a welcome distraction from... this. He slowed his pace and glanced up at the unchanging sky. He'd been holed up for awhile now, he's not sure what it is that bugs him this most about the place. The fact he's stuck here or the fact he's getting used to it.

It's then a thought strikes him and he slumps against the nearest wall. Unknowingly activating the [visual] function.

He muttered to himself, "Dammit..." His arms folded over his knees and his head went down between them. A louder curse comes out a moment later. A muffled sound of what could be a whispered apology, very hard to make out when he's talking to his knees.

A few deep breaths later he gets back to his feet. Hat pulled down low, he continued like nothing happened.

sgmitchell.livejournal.com

He could only run around the subject so long before he had to face it. Literally running around the mountain was a poor distraction. Listening to tablet chatter only made it worse--though he turned it off more often, now that he was wary of text spam. The time had come to accept the unavoidable truth as it was. Frankly, he was only denying what he'd already known before and refused to accept.

He would have to organize an SG basketball team.

It wouldn't be too difficult initially. There were an even number of people on base. Splitting up the teams would be...simple enough. Jackson, Vala, and Sam on one side, himself, O'Neill and Sheppard on the other. Convincing them all to play might be difficult. O'Neill and Sam were the problem issues. He didn't want to have to pull rank on Sam just to get her to have fun--although some days he suspected that would be an inevitability.

But. How to propose the idea.

He flipped the tablet open and frowned. "SG personnel? Status check." It was arguable whether O'Neill would be obligated to answer him. Also with Jackson and Vala--but he trusted them more to do it anyway. If Colonel O'Neill chose not to, he'd just have to hunt him down personally and negotiate something. The drones were not ready to be back-ups.

[OOC: I am still not back! I'm just...trying anyway...]