taxonomites | Entries tagged with { b'elanna torres

smecker.livejournal.com

The visual feed from the tablet clicks on to show the interior of a large building that is vaguely reminiscent of a warehouse or some other sort of industrial building-- cinderblock walls, cement floors, support pillars and nothing in the way of furniture yet-- except for a slightly incongruously brand-spanking-new hatch set into one wall.

Paul Smecker is in front of it, crossing his arms and glowering at it as if it personally offends him. He kicks at it, not that this does any good of course.

( Paul swears a lot behind the cut, someday dien will write a short post but that day is not today )

"Hi, Taxon, and apologies if anyone just got an earful. Venting. Paul Smecker here; welcome to my pleasure palace." He gestures with one hand at the room beyond. "As you can see, it is somewhat lacking in amenities.

"To those of you who weren't here yet for that whole zombie thing: zombies happened here, once. A few months ago. Very horror-movie-esque, undead shambling things coming for your brains. All the Extras-- all of them-- got infected, and a few of us, including yours truly, got killed.

"We didn't have any sort of organized safehouse then, which fact struck me at the time as criminally irresponsible on our part, at least until all I was thinking about was eating other people's brains. If something like that happens again, I want to be as prepared as the city will let us be.

"So I'm outfitting this place, a building here in Central. I know there's a hell of a lot of you who are geniuses-beyond-the-ken-of-man: you want something to do? I've got a laundry list of things that need building here-- oxygen scrubbers, water filters, a field hospital... among other things.

"I also would like it if you Season-of-the-Witch types would put your occult-minded little heads together and tell me if I can't get up protective... spell-things... on this place. Somehow.

"Logistics-wise, I want to have a decent stockpile here of food and water and other needed supplies-- and there's limits to how many cans of Spaghetti-Os I want to hatch on my own. So if anybody wants to lend me a hand with figuring out about how many people we'd need to have emergency food for, and maybe some of the other organizational aspects of something like this.... let me know.

"Many hands make light work, as my gunnery range instructor once said. Of course, he was talking about 'make light work of perforating a human being with bullets', but the principle still applies.

"Ask me questions, I have answers. Maybe. Paul Smecker out."

[OOC Plotting post can be found here]

theextras.livejournal.com

Word has it, Taxon, that there's going to be a party. These rumors are not untrue, for one

slaying has arranged something of a get together for the Fourth of July. Unfortunately, the Extras have caught wind of this soirée and are already in the presence of crashing it, rocking those holey jeans and chilling with some Lynyrd Skynyrd and good ol' Hank Williams. This is their kind of party.

Don't let them have all the fun. The sun is getting low, so get on out here and get your party on before fireworks start lighting up the faux night sky.

taxcollectors.livejournal.com

The presence of Aliens in the building was something uniquely un-ignorable, and uniquely catch-able.

After a rousing bout of 'Catch the Hamster in the Giant Hamster Wheel and Watch Him Cry,' both he and Mayhem are on display in the first floor lobby and on tablet screens all over.

...In a giant ball guarded by one Taxon's resident angry witches.

Mayhem is under the assumption that it's made of found materials, magic, and Willow's pure, unadulterated hate. The Hamster just sits in his pseudo-corner as far away from her as he can get and grooms himself.

Come one, come all! Ask your questions, get some answers. Kick them, even! It's doubtful anyone will stop you.

[ ooc: THE TIME HAS COME! Both the Hamster and Mayhem are here to be interrogated, negotiated with, and potentially kicked in the face. You can also comment and talk to Willow instead! ]

littlestcastle.livejournal.com

Alexis stood outside the steps of the Sanctuary and for a moment she stared up at the building where they'd been stuck for three weeks, then down at her tablet. Her expression was confused, and there was slow growing worry in her eyes.

"Has anyone seen Kate Beckett? Or Dr. Reid?" she asked. Despite the fact that she was asking the question, there was quiet resignation in her voice, as if she already knew the answer. "I think they've both gone home."

She frowned and it was obvious she was debating whether she had anything more to say. Eventually, she bit her lip and asked, "Does anyone have a suggestion for a place to stay?" A pause, and she added quietly, "Somewhere with a threshold?"

slayersidekick

It's been a few days, but still, Willow is officially Not. Pleased. Too many things have happened in too short a time. Added to that the little encounter she had with an actual hamster alien and she is angry. The days have not cooled off her temper. In fact, the added time has just made it worse. People have been hurt lately, two of her friends in a close span of time, and as the resident witch, she's starting to think this is going to be her job to sort out. Just what she wanted.

So, she camps out in the library and flips open her tablet, forgetting for a moment what the crackling of her power is going to be doing to her physical appearance. Her hair is still red, clothes still normal, but her eyes are pitch black and when people start to arrive, anyone with any kind of ability to sense power will be able to feel the magic coursing through her. This is a witch not to be messed with.

And when in doubt, blame the hamsters. It's always their fault.

"Okay, whatever is going on needs to stop. I don't like this prison within a prison thing and I don't think anyone else does. And too many people are getting hurt. So. We're going to stop it. I've talked to one of the hamsters. Not long, but it was enough. I want a longer talk. If anyone's interested, meet me in the library on the fifth floor. I have an idea."

[ ooc: the official planning post is HERE. I just figure she'd be the one to get this ball rolling! Library comment thread / tracking down the hamster will come once I figure out interest. (there will be links once comment threads get posted.) Feel free to just respond to her post (if you don't want to turn up for the meeting) or just turn up at the library. She will respond either way.

Let me know if this works / doesn't work for people, hit up the planning post so we can figure things up and tag in over here as you see fit! ]

Current Music: Krypteria - Sweet Revenge | Powered by Last.fm

icanhaslogic.livejournal.com

Even though Spock was more capable of accepting the strangeness of the city, but it was still disconcerting when things like this happened. It was a marked improvement from the walking dead, but still strange enough to warrant mention. Illogical, all of it. First, the transmissions that had been plaguing the city, now trapping the citizens inside a building…

He almost itched for the Enterprise’s computers, to put them to work on analyzing all of this. But without being able to leave the building, he had no access to them. Perhaps he could rig a remote uplink to his tablet…but that would still require access to the computer itself and doubtless by the time he would have that again, the phenomenon would be over and there would be little to try and work with after the fact.

All he had was second best, then, keeping careful notes of anything that could possibly be construed as relevant. But he wasn’t so blind as not to realize that there was too much for him to gather himself, even if the trapped were more likely to be less than inclined to maintain civility or helpfulness. Still…it was only logical to try every viable option, and he activated the audio feed.

“If you are inclined to share information, I have several questions that I would like answered concerning this situation.”

eventextras.livejournal.com

It's around five o'clock in the morning when the citizens of Taxon find themselves inexplicably transported into rooms within the Sanctuary. Doors are left open and beds unmade, food abandoned and lights left on, still shining brightly for those who were awake and are no longer present. The Extras don't seem to notice the captive population's sudden disappearance, continuing on with their business as usual.

For those relocated, though, it's an entirely different story.

They find themselves in rooms with white, alabaster walls that gives them an almost too-clean feeling, as if the entire place was sanitized prior to their arrival. The room assignments are seemingly random, people placed on floors with those they don't know and don't like, people they would rather not be within twenty feet of. It matters not, for what's done is done and cannot be undone. For those who happen to have pets, they'll find them waiting for their owners in the rooms as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

The only thing the captives have managed to bring with them is the clothes on their back and the tablets. On them, they find the following message:

SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE PLEASE ENJOY YOUR STAY WHILE WE ADDRESS CERTAIN TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES

Unfortunately for those who try to find a means of escape, they'll discover there is none. Leaving the Sanctuary will prove to be as difficult as leaving Taxon itself. However, if one heads down the right corridor and the right floor, they'll find something else entirely lurking in their midst...

( ooc | sorry for the delay in posting! your mods were otherwise occupied with things of the irl variety this morning. THIS BE A PARTY POST, Y'ALL. room assignments are here, and refer back to the sott post proper for any additional information. please contact us with any questions/concerns you may have in regards to this plot. ♥ )

patricide

The city will never be home, but at least now he is starting to gain some sense of control. Between the unexpected temporary population boom, the various incarnations of vampire panic, and now the recently ended language glitch it was easy for the average person to be constantly reminded of how far from home they had been transported. Maybe Lex wasn't in Kansas anymore (he can say that literally, thank you) but he was determined to both bring with him a sense of the familiar and improve upon it.

He wasn't CEO back in Metropolis, though like Taxon keeps reminding him, things are different here. The building may be his father's but the research project was his own and no one could take away his hard work that had grown from a single idea. In the late morning Lex walks through Luthor Plaza, surveying the overall progress that has been made in a few short weeks. He stops where various people work, listening attentively at the status reports before moving on. Winding his way back, Lex checks back in with Quinn in his own office before joining Adrian for their usual meeting over lunch.

[ooc: ok! so here's how this is going to work: i basically gave excuse for lex to be anywhere in the building. if you want him to run into your character who works for luthorcorp, tag in here and feel free to dictate the location within luthor plaza. since there was talk about cr building i wanted to give us the chance to do it before the big sanctuary plot. :) Wikus and Quinn especially, I'm looking at you!]

eventextras.livejournal.com

At around noon, the silence was broken. The Extras resumed their idle nonsense chatter, and any citizen checking their tablet would note that voice and video transmission are available again. After a little experimentation they will also realize they have their voices back.

Sort of.

Citizens who know multiple languages will now find themselves speaking their non-English tongue(s), and will only be able to break from this with excessive concentration. Downside: still lots of charades going on. Upside: many people will learn to swear in a more multilingual manner.

In three days' time the programming bugs will get worked out and everyone will have full control over their language use. In the meantime, enjoy the renewed vocalization!

[ooc: phase two of the glitch begins now! ]

aklingonside.livejournal.com

Like most of the city, B'Elanna had been paying close attention to the unpredictable radio transmissions of the last few days. With the disappearance of Captain Kirk, she had redoubled her efforts to trace the source and work out exactly what was happening. There was a chance - slim, but better than nothing - that solving that mystery would solve some of the other mysteries surrounding Taxon.

It wasn't the first time that she'd lost a friend she'd made in the city - she still missed Aximili from time to time - but Kirk had been from a world very close to her own. To him, the concept of space travel was a part of everyday life and Starfleet had been more than just another oddity from another universe. He'd understood. (So did Spock, but he wasn't exactly easy to talk to. He reminded her of Tuvok rather than Tom.) She worked furiously because it was a lot better than dwelling on his absence.

If you're keeping score, the last transmission was in klingon. I can provide a translation for anyone who wants it.

Unfortunately, it tended to generate more questions than it answered.

I'm still trying to work out the source of the broadcast.

And she certainly hadn't expected to hear that language in Taxon, of all places. It wasn't her native tongue, but it was a part of her heritage that she'd worked hard to distance herself from.

No luck yet, but I'll keep trying.

The first time she tried to type that out, she ended up slipping into klingon herself. Fortunately, she managed to return to federation standard - recognisable as english to most people - on her second attempt.

defenestration

[Adrian is sitting in the Owl Cave, waiting for Dan and Rorschach to show for another meeting. He has some interesting information to share, and he's certain he won't be the only one. While he waits, he figures he might as well use the time to get a little 'research' done.]

I'm curious -- what kind of professions did all of you hold before coming here to Taxon? And related to a more personal need, do any of you have experience with animals?

[ooc: Location for Watchmen, voice for everyone else. Backdating to some point between Dawn's fight with Adrian and her unglitching ceremony.]

iminmynightie.livejournal.com

[The tablet switches on to reveal Amy propping it upright on her table. There's a pint of Guinness in front of her and she looks at home here. Giving the camera a wave, she gets down to business.]

Hi, guys. So I've got it into my head to put together an informal sports team here, just to give us a chance to exercise and have some fun. I was thinking every month or so we could choose a game to practice and then play a game at month's end. The gym in the Sanctuary should have all the equipment we need.

Anyway, I just wanted to gauge interest. It'd be a bit harder if only three people wanted in, y'know.

[She looks away from the screen for a second, thinking out loud.] Though that would be enough for beach volleyball...

[Her eyes return to the tablet.]

You can contact me by tablet or meet me here for a drink if you'd rather. I'm at the Dodgy Jammer in Shelley. Well, thanks for listening!

[She switches off the tablet.]

aintnoconvict

When the haphazardly tossed tablet skittered across the work table and clicked on, it broadcast a scene of Invention In Progress:

Glitch was staring at an illuminated lightbulb and listening to the soft hum of the generator prototype he was working on. All appeared stable and he scooted forward in his chair, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Then the steady hum wavered, became a whine, dropped to a growl, then cut out completely as the lightbulb flickered and extinguished. With a sigh of frustration Glitch sat back and clicked his stopwatch off.

"Two minutes, nineteen seconds. Good effort but...harmonic alignment seven has-" Oh he hated to call anything a failure. "...done its best and and would be excellent if we need to power anything for a little over two minutes."

Satisfied with that assessment, he nodded jerkily to himself and logged the results in the project's file.

patricide

Lex crossed the hallway to his father's LuthorCorp office as he had done many times before. The path was instinctual and the muscle memory carried him along while he made a mental to-do list for tasks to accomplish later in the day. "Confiscating the computers of a bunch of high schoolers? That's a little dramatic, don't you think?" Lex didn’t wait for Lionel Luthor's reaction as he pushed the office door open.

Instead of being greeted by a desk and Lionel's mane of hair Lex found himself in a room even larger than the one he was expecting. Before moving or speaking he took note of this new space and its architecture. He noticed a platform and beyond that a door sealed shut. It was good to know there was a theoretical way out at least.

"I take it back, Dad," Lex called to the open air, sliding his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "The computers were nothing. This is overkill on the drama. How did you manage to keep all this construction a secret?" He took his time walking to the platform that seemed to have some kind of object resting on it. If this was some kind of new test for Lex to prove himself, he hoped it was on the less lethal side of things.

defenestration

Adrian’s first thought upon experiencing the disorientation of suddenly finding himself in an unfamiliar place is that Jon has transported him somewhere. A prison of some kind, perhaps -- it certainly looks like the sort of room designed to keep people from leaving.

His second thought is that he knows Bubastis was killed, did it with his own hands (so to speak), and yet there she stands, at his side, the loyal companion she was created to be.

It doesn’t feel like a dream...

Absently running his fingers through Bubastis’ fur, he gazes up at the device in the ceiling above him, and then toward the pedestal holding what is clearly meant to be a communication device. With a small frown, he walks down to pick it up.

“We can do it this way if you like, but I’m sure you can see and hear me perfectly well without the assistance of a...” It’s an intriguing, futuristic sort of design. Very sleek. Adrian likes it. “...radio phone?” He glances upward again, half-expecting to see Jon’s face, giant-sized and glowing, peering back at him. “Of course I’m always happy to answer questions, but the process is much more efficient, I find, if the questions come first, and the answers after.”

Adrian sets the tablet back onto the pedestal and crosses his arms, calling even more attention to what can only be described as a costume, and fixes the screen with a stern but subdued expression. From the looks of his face, he’s recently been in some kind of fight, but appears to have handily held his own, at the least. “Or I can begin with some inquiries of my own instead. Let’s get the obvious ones out of the way, shall we? Where am I, who are you, and what do you want?”

aklingonside.livejournal.com

B'Elanna hadn't dealt with her death and subsequent resurrection particularly well. In fact, she hadn't dealt with it at all. She'd simply buckled down and redoubled her efforts to find a way to get out of the city and, if possible, contact Voyager.

She wasn't afraid of death. (That was one life lesson that she had taken away from her time at the monastery. Besides, at different times in her life and for a variety of different reasons, she had actively sought it. Fear didn't come into it.) She was even grateful - for want of a better word - to have been brought back to the city. The problem was that none of it had happened on her terms. For all her determination and engineering expertise and fighting skills, B'Elanna had been essentially helpless during the zombie invasion.

Although she'd faced death without fear, but she'd also faced it thinking that she would never see the man she loved or the friends that had become her family again.

In a way, the mysterious radio message was just what B'Elanna needed. It distracted her from her work on the Delta Flyer and it gave her a mystery to solve.

Maybe the answer would shed some light on the city and their furry captors.

"Xenolinguistics isn't my strong point," she said, switching on the tablet and addressing anyone who would be interested in what she had to say, "So I haven't been able to translate the broadcast, but I can tell you something. Wherever the transmission was coming from, it wasn't coming from inside the city. It originated on the other side of the barrier."

It hadn't been easy to trace it with the limited resources available to her and the outdated radio that had broadcasted the message in the first place, but she'd managed it. With difficulty and with a few angry outbursts, she'd managed it.

For the first time in what felt like a long time, B'Elanna actually grinned.

numbersnfigures.livejournal.com

Spencer Reid wandered through the aisles of the library carrying a stack of books that was far too high for him to handle. As he rounded a corner, the weight shifted and he lost his balance. Half of the stack went crashing to the floor. In the process, his tablet fell with it, turning itself on without his knowledge.

"Darn," he muttered to himself.

He crouched down and started to re-stack his books. Titles piled up in front of the tablet: Wormholes in Space, Physics of the Time-Space Continuum. When he had made a stack about half the size of what he was carrying before, he brought them to a nearby table, then came back for the rest of the books and his tablet.

After sitting down, he glanced at the table and realized it was recording. He gazed at it with a sheepish smile.

"Oh. S-Sorry."

The tablet clicked off.

icanhaslogic.livejournal.com

When he’d returned in the arrival room, Spock slipped out quietly before anyone else could stop him or notice that he’d vanished. There wasn’t much that he could remember, but what he did was…disturbing. It didn’t make much sense, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to try and make it. Maybe if he distanced himself he could find some excuse for the positively nightmarish images that filled in the hole in his memory.

It hadn’t worked, and he really should have known that. They said all kinds of things about hindsight, though, and he’d indulged the human half of him that only wanted to run away from his problems and it hadn’t solved anything. All it had done was delay the inevitable confrontation. And sooner or later he would have to face it.

It had happened. He couldn’t change that. The logical thing to do was to accept it and move on.

The video didn’t give much clue as to where he was, though he did look just as stoic as ever, just as unaffected by, well, everything, though he probably hadn’t moved in hours. Which made it just a little surprising when he twisted to his feet suddenly like it hadn’t been more than a few moments.

He had to rejoin the world some time.

((Pardon Beth as she tries to come up with an IC reason for her failyness >>;; ))

givesahoot.livejournal.com

Dan couldn't recall the last time he felt so closed in while out of doors. Six men surrounded him and Laurie, backing them against an alley wall. Each held onto a knife, the silver of the blades reflecting the moonlight like an old friend.

It was a stupid idea to try and fight them. The rational thing to do would be for Dan and Laurie to hand over their belongings and handle the situation calmly. Unfortunately, the muggers seemed to have no interest in doing anything calmly. The two in the middle lunged forward, one with a knife stabbing forward at Dan's stomach. Reacting instantly, Dan grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it back, a second later knocking him flat on his back with a kick. With no room for hesitation another mugger followed, this one swinging at Dan's face. Dan blocked the knife with one hand and with the other thrust a fist forward, feeling the crack of bone on bone as his knuckles collided with the man’s face.

In the moment of impact time seemed to freeze. With a bloodied hand still stretched outward in a punch, Dan found himself inside a large metallic room. Fighting the adrenaline that coursed through his body after being attacked, Dan slowly lowered his arm. "Hello?" he asked, his breath exhaling in heavy pants. "Who’s there?" The last thing he needed to do now was let down his guard. "What did you do with Laurie?" he asked the completely unresponsive walls.

He walked restlessly around the room, pressing a hand to his head as his own blood throbbed against his temples. "Look, if you want my money, take it." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. "I’ve got cash and all my credit cards in here. Just let me go home." There was plenty of fight still left in him, but these kidnappers didn’t need to know that.

smecker.livejournal.com

Central's buildings rose around him, the weird-ass mixture of structures that didn't bother adhering to any particular time period, let alone any sort of shared geographical origin. Paul Smecker moved past high-rises that could have belonged on Wall Street but sat bizarrely next to adobe-walled haciendas and even an Old West style saloon. It was like walking through a movie set, Hollywood backlots, Paul thought as he kept up a brisk on-foot pace.

( all my teal deer )

Paul turned the feather over in his fingers. No birds. There were no birds.

The consummate city boy, a lack of wildlife was not something he was prone to notice. But this was driving the point home, making him think about it-- no pigeons, the universal flying rats of metropolitan areas. No rats either. No cockroaches.

Paul dug his tablet out from his pocket and flicked it on.

"Afternoon, Taxon," he said into the little screen, holding up the downy-if-dirty gray feather before his face, and then blowing it out of his fingers, letting the wind carry it off his palm and away. "Paul Smecker here. Anyone notice the lack of urban wildlife here so far? Another of those little mysteries.

"And here's a more pragmatic question: anybody want to help me with a project to establish a defensible location within the city? I'm going to need a fair bit of manpower." Judicious pause. "And it might help if you happen to have a cold at the moment, or otherwise can't smell."

OOC: For the dorks like me, Paul has found a bird nest factory, a type of increasingly common building in Asia. Man, we humans are freaking weird.