revivalproject | 01 | All lies and jests; still a man hears what he wants to hear

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01 | All lies and jests; still a man hears what he wants to hear

WHO: the Winter Soldier (

sinistral) and you
WHERE: Calibrations waiting room, calibration room, and network
WHAT: midway through the Calibrations cycle, the Agrii decided they needed another ~~victim~~ "he row"
WHEN: 06/28 through 07/10
WARNINGS: Literally every calibration room prompt will have elements of violence and torture (physical and mental).

SECRET TUNNEL
→ Waiting Room;

This is complete bullshit. Complete. Bullshit. The Soldier has strong feelings as it is about waking up in a place entirely different from where he'd gone to sleep. It had happened far too much in his life and invariably makes him tense and irritable; between HYDRA and the Atroma — and apparently these Agrii now — he's just done.

The tunnel looks nothing like the Marsiva or the other ships of the Fleet but has him on guard regardless. He's pretty sure they'd escaped that imprisonment, won their way free of the Atroma. Certainly he's seen no evidence of them in the year since. But perhaps they'd gotten too lax in their freedom, in the rush of exploration and enjoyment of each other's company.

It's possible anyway.

Still, he can't focus on that right now, and certainly attempting to break out hadn't worked. Had the impact of a metal fist against the wall woken anyone? Potentially not, if this really is like the Calibrations he remembers, the way sleepers couldn't be woken once they'd drifted off. Or perhaps people will hear it and come looking. Doesn't much matter to him and he gives it up quickly enough when he sees that it's not doing any good anyway.

Well, whatever.

After a last glare at the tunnel he returns to the interior chamber and proceeds to go over every inch of it. Under the Atroma, it was impossible to escape the Calibrations area until those beings decided their time was up. If this really is modeled after that there'll be no escape, but he still intends to make sure. Perhaps some detail has been overlooked.

→ Calibrations Room;

The room itself is plain, utilitarian. The walls might be grey, or a grimy institutional beige. The only furnishings are a large glass-and-metal tubular chamber in the corner and a metal table in the center of the room with a single lightbulb hanging above it; an old incandescent bulb sheds yellowy light on the surface of the table and not much further.

On the table rests a sniper rifle, a combat knife, and a mouthguard. There appears to be no one in residence.

NETWORK
→ Text;

The Drift Fleet. Atroma. Calibrations. If you know what I'm talking about, speak up.

[That's it that's the message.]

WILDCARD
→ Elsewhere;

Want something else? Have an idea? Hit me up at

sometimesamuse or via PM. Open to wherever, whatever, and though I write starters in prose I'm more than happy to switch to brackets if it's your preference.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Metal plates shift here and there in the semblance of an expression of disgust, along with the lidding of his optics. "Yeck. Good point." Cayde imagines there'd be a lot of upset people if that got accidentally demolished too.

Knife at his belt, a gun at his opposite hip. So far no one's had complaints about him carrying his weapons so openly, not that he's had any reason to make use of them in here, but he feels better having them on his person than left in his room.

"You too, huh? I've been hearing similar from some of the others here. Don't think there's anything to like about the whole deal. Especially how we were basically hurried in here on the excuse that a killer storm was going to hit." Yeah, it's obvious he doesn't quite believe that reason, but on this side of the tunnel there's not much to be done for it.

There are probably worse things than being deprived of the showers for however long this is supposed to last, but certainly demolishing them would be a way to earn the ire of everyone in residence. That doesn't seem like a smart risk to take, especially for no guaranteed gain. If they could be sure an escape route would present itself through the drains, that would be another matter.

He notes the presence of weapons on the other man, but expresses no discomfort over it. The Soldier is also armed, and of the belief that being unarmed is plain foolishness. It's not paranoia if various organizations really have been out to get you at one time or another.

"Killer storm, huh?" That's a new one at least; with the Atroma, it was just waking up on the mothership, with no indication of how the transport happened. "And what, they just opened the doors and herded everyone in?"

That's something they'd definitely agree on. It's just a shame that it seemed weapons weren't an often provided commodity for those brought in. Even with his favorite gun and a knife stand-in, he still feels vastly unarmed without having several other firearms available.

That's interesting- this guy hadn't heard the storm warning? The Exo tilts his head at him, curious, but he gives a nod.

"Eh, pretty much. They were like 'aah, new storm's coming! This one'll kill the he-roes! Everyone in the tunnel' 'cuz there's a shelter or somethin'. Even put a thirty-six hour timer until 'dead time.'"

He rolls his eyes at that. "So of course once everyone gets in, the exit disappears. Nothing suspicious about that, right?"

Preaching to the choir. Funny how neither the Atroma nor the Agrii seem to understand the level of properly armed to which some people are accustomed. The Soldier personally thinks it's on purpose; he doesn't need a weapon to be deadly, but having a small arsenal certainly makes him more effective.

"Interesting." He regards that curiosity for a moment, taking in what it means to him and what his next statement is likely to mean in turn. "I just woke up in the tunnel leading to this room. Previous to this I was on a ship. Didn't know anything about the Agrii until I woke up here."

That bombshell dropped, he can't help but agree. "Nothing suspicious at all."

"Wow, just like that? Huh. Maybe Stark was onto something," the Hunter murmurs as he strokes his chin, considering. "Not quite sold on the reinforcements idea though. I mean, what all are we reinforcing, being stuck in here? That's some weird timing though, bringing in people like that."

He folds his arms, leaning against the wall, with a scowl. "You familiar with this calibrations thing too?" Despite the pink color, the 'welcome to calibrations' sign painted on the wall had been highly ominous. "I'd rather be calibrating weapons." Not...brainspace.

"Just like that." He files the name away — Stark could mean a few things — before considering the rest. Maybe it's simply the consequence of being new, or maybe it's his nature of being on edge, but: "Are you sure it's reinforcement, and not reenforcement? Being subject to an experiment is a great reminder of who's really in charge."

Which is not a comfortable thought at all, truth be told, but there it is.

The Soldier mirrors the position, leaning against the opposite wall. "Yes. Been through it before, definitely not of a mind to want a repeat performance." That right there is the understatement of the century.

"You sure do know how to make for a cheery conversation," the Exo notes, dryly. Sarcasm aside, it's clear he doesn't quite care for either flavor of suggestion. "Like we need a reminder as to who's fault it is we're all here. ...convenient way to avoid questions though. I tried getting in touch with 'em a while ago but I think they're ignoring me. Or maybe that button doesn't work after all, because all I've heard from are the other people stuck in here."

The sentiment's shared, and here it's only been the first time being subjected to it for him. There's simply nothing okay about it. "And yet, here we are," he sighs. "I am not exactly crazy about this social experiment." Or any social experiments, really.

"That's me, ball of sunshine." Dryer than the desert, that, but the Soldier isn't one to spare others' feelings just for the comfort of an illusion. He hadn't trusted the Atroma, he doesn't trust these Agrii, and he doesn't like how, in the Fleet at least, people had seemed content to settle into that life. "I'm not surprised. The Atroma were much the same; didn't always answer direct inquiries but they monitored everything, knew everything that was going on. Sometimes the only thing predictable was their unpredictability."

That they could act on it goes unsaid. He's assuming the Agrii, like the Atroma, have ways of punishing those they consider straying from their path of acceptable behavior. And if they don't, well, he doesn't want to make the suggestion where they could hear it, because he has no doubt that this facility is monitored.

"Best thing is just try to wait it out without touching anything." Not always possible, of course, but sometimes one got lucky in the calibrations rooms — and other times the compulsion to touch objects, to get drawn into the illusion, is impossible to resist. "Not always possible, but worth the effort."

Despite the response, not to mention the conversation, the Hunter has to grin. If they could still be sarcastic about things, that was good. At least they were on the same page.

"Great. Yeah, that seems about how it's going so far. I think I like it better when aliens just try shooting us. At least things were straight forward." You just shot back.

He groans at the suggestion. Waiting and keeping his hands to himself are definitely not his strong points. "Yeah. Yeah, I know," he grumbles. "Things get tricky when you can't even pull a chair to sit without getting sucked into a memory."

Sarcasm makes the world go 'round, truly. That and finding other people who appreciate said sarcasm. But the Soldier can't help agreeing with the sentiment: shoot first, ask questions later is much preferred to having one's privacy invaded nightly. Or any of the other annoying inconveniences that come with being kidnapped like this, but right now the Calibrations are at the top of his list of things to hate about the Agrii.

"Shooting, stabbing, I'll take a plain old fistfight to all this mystery and omnipresent observation. But that doesn't seem to be their style, does it?" Give him a straight fight — or even a sneaky fight! — and he'd be a lot happier. But no, it's all this communication from afar, this kidnapping and setting loose with only the knowledge they deem necessary.

"Guess it depends on whose head you're in. Some people like to share." It's probably clear what side of the line he falls on that issue.

The man gets a snap-point at that. "Right? None of this overblown alien antfarm crap."

If the Agrii were truly wanting to get on their good side they would've greeted them in person instead of with all the badly written messages and the creepy party banners.

"Eh, maybe. Personally I'd rather keep the options open." Instead of being subjected to watching things or reminded of things by an accidental touch. At least of those he's had to entertain in his head so far, he can't say he minds it too much. But his memories are still his own.

What even is this alien dude and his mannerisms. Just what even.

Not that he disagrees with the sentiment! Seriously, manners are so overlooked; it would have been a simple matter of asking for help. Some people might have even said yes, with no need for kidnapping! They might not have been useful for what the Agrii want, but that's their problem.

That they've apparently solved via kidnapping. Joy.

"When I was under the Atroma, all that mattered to them were the ratings. Everything was about the show. I have to wonder what the Agrii have in motivation, as it certainly doesn't seem to be keeping us content." Unless someone is actually enjoying all this lack of privacy, of course.

Hah, joke's on you soldier, this guy's one hundred percent Earthling!

"Hang on, show? You got kidnapped for alien entertainment?" The Exo hadn't heard that part about this mysterious Atroma, but it only makes him like them a lot less, not that he had a very high starting point on opinion to begin with.

"Oh, they made a good attempt of it. When I first got nabbed, it wasn't even this planet that I ended up on first. Apparently at the time, the Agrii brought everyone to this world called Risa for a vacation. I guess first storm experience wasn't that great and they were trying to make it up to people. Then they threw a welcome back party once we got brought back to this place. Supposedly we were to talk about what anyone learned from the storm thingy but..." He shrugs. "I don't know how far anyone actually got with that, and it wasn't like the pink guys participated."

He doesn't look Earthling! Says the man with the metal arm...

"Yeah." He has to wonder how much information about the Drift Fleet is actually out there; it was no secret that it was always about the show, about the ratings. That the situation here seems to be different is certainly something to note. "It was the whole point of the Fleet: an entertainment show, where the ratings mattered. If it wasn't entertaining enough, the Atroma found ways to make it interesting."

Including controlling people directly. Talk about uncomfortable.

"Interesting. So they're able to grab people and drop them anywhere at all." Very different from how it had been in the Fleet, where new arrivals always started out on the mothership. Then again, each arrival had a chip implant, a surgery presumably performed on the ship. So far he's got no indication of anything of the sort here, though the Soldier can still feel his own implant under his skin. "And it would seem that they think that giving us things makes up for poor behavior on their part. Great."

If he still had a nose, it'd be wrinkling right then. Yet those metal plates still do a pretty good job of mimicking the expression, even if it's mostly just about the eyes. "Eyew. So instead of the killer aliens, you got the entertainment junkies. I think I'll stick with the ones I know back home."

At least the only thing most Fallen, Cabal, Vex and Hive wanted to do was kill you. Straight forward stuff!

The Exo nods. "Yep. Sounds about right. In the Tower one moment, in a nice cushy bed the next. And then after all that, here on this planet. You got dropped in here directly? You probably didn't see outside then. A real fixer-upper."

He would not like the idea of some sort of chip implant, or any implant, really. Just the datapoint things he's heard has made him quite adamant about keeping his distance. He'd apparently lucked out in getting directly brought over to Risa.

"Eh, they try anyway. They're super bad at communicating. English is not their first language. Either that or they're really good at faking it. Otherwise, it's like getting instructions from three year olds."

That is a surprisingly expressive mask thing! Faintly the Soldier wonders how it's accomplished, but it seems rude to ask. He doesn't like fielding questions about his own prosthetic, after all.

"If only getting back home was simple. I'm assuming it's proven impossible thus far, and that you're not hanging around just for the fun of it." Although who knows! Maybe home is somehow worse. He doubts it, but one never can be too sure.

But it's probably useful to know he's not the only one just yanked from where he was to where he now is, no ceremony, no nothing. "Yeah, right into the hallway, and all this information about these Agrii just right in my head." He's clearly not pleased with either the kidnapping or the brain invasion. "Let me guess: some kind of post-apocalyptic mess, and we're the cleaning crew?"

It would be his luck.

Also, messing with people's heads is rude. DO YOU HEAR THAT, YOU AGRII?!? DO YOU??!??!??!

"Has anyone tried any other languages?" He's got a handful of them himself, and wonders if it'll be any use. Then again, their captors could just have poor communication skills. Or enough smarts to pretend they have poor communication skills.

"Well, keeping the ships locked up sure makes it difficult for one." The Exo snorts, shaking his head. "Though I just found out that only a certain one'll open up for you. Wish I woulda known that before I almost broke my knife on the first several I tried getting the hatch to budge."

Okay, so he'd figured it probably was a lost cause if they were really good ships, and if one managed to open from his prying, he'd have to question its spaceworthiness.

"I mean...it was fun for the first few days? Change of scenery and all that. But then there's not a whole lot to do past fixing things and talking with fellow disgruntled citizens."

Not much to shoot either. The giant bugs had been the first kind-of fun he'd had in weeks.

He lifts his head, shooting a glance at the Soldier again. "Wait, really? The plugged info in your head without a datapoint? Those're these...ball things that apparently upload certain info directly into your brain on contact. Guess I lucked out on avoiding that- don't need nothin' up here I ain't put in myself.

"But you're about right- a good number of buildings still remain standing and there's a power grid that's functional. I think the people who've been here longer have taken care of the important stuff. The Agrii didn't exactly leave a list of chores past taking care of the storm thingy."

As he thinks about other attempts with languages, the Exo can't help but chuckle. "Possibly. Jon was giving them an impromptu lesson in grammar during the little welcome party they'd set up for us. I really can't say otherwise. You're probably better off askin' someone who's been here longer. They sure haven't bothered to respond the times I've tried texting 'em."

"Would you really trust a ship whose hull budged for a knife?" Yup, that mental image is firmly in there now, thank you very much. Totally going to be thinking about that when these ships come into play. Great. "Though I do have to wonder at the criteria of assignment though."

And the criteria of assignment to this planet in the first place. Fixing it up? That sounds both incredibly basic and very much like it needs engineers, not assassins. Al

"Mmm." He doesn't like to even think about the things that were put in his head, much less talk about it. But even he can't argue against the fact that it might be important. "The place I was before, the Atroma implanted chips in our brains, used those to pass information to us. Whether or not these Agrii used my chip to do the same, I can't say; I woke up and knew what little I know about being here."

Which is not entirely reassuring.

Still, he can't change what's been done and he won't lose himself thinking about it and miss any potential information in their conversation. It may lead to frowning when he hears the scope of what life in this place seems to be, but there's not a lot that makes him do anything other than frown. He doesn't like the idea of being someone else's tool. "So basically they want us to make this place all nice and pretty for them, and then we get to go back to where we belong."

In other words: do all the work for us. Yay.

"Guess I could always try. Can't be worse than talking to a wall." Famous last words.

The Hunter brings his hands up with a shrug. "Hey, if it got me in, then fixing the door to make it more secure's no big deal." Doors to ships are so overrated. Or he's just too used to transmatting off and on his own jumpship.

Implanted chips. The metal man does not like the sound of that at all, shuddering at the thought. "I don't know what's worse, that or the data-things. Anyone comes to me with that intent, I am going to shoot 'em."

Given the trend of things, he wonders if he'd even be aware of such a thing being done, a thought he likes even less. He scowls, fingers drumming over the grip of his hand cannon at his hip.

"Yeah. Well, the sending us back home after all's said and done is assumed, anyway. I think dealing with those storms are the main point, though from what I've heard of them, that's not going to be easy." He gives a lighter shrug then. "So in the meantime I figure we needed a bar. 'cept a lotta good it does us when we're stuck in here."

"You hope. At this point, I don't know how much I'd trust about anything in this place." A place that he's been in for what, barely any time at all? Cynical much?

At least he can also get behind the idea of shooting, especially if the targets are the Agrii. "Yeah, apparently the idea of actual communication is too old fashioned. Why bother to talk to people when you can just plant stuff in their heads?" Bitter much?

"Oh, we definitely need a bar." Not that he can get drunk, but it's the thought that counts. "Especially if we're here to be a clean up crew for someone else's mess. You know the minute something small gets fixed there's gonna be a next thing, and a thing after that, and a thing after that."

"Eh. True. Still, if it's a possible way off? I'd exploit it." High risk, high gain and all that.

Cayde shakes his head. He sure hopes that's not going to be the trend. Whatever the Agrii hoped to accomplish with this ordeal, gaining trust from their chosen heroes definitely doesn't seem to be it.

The bar would have been nice if there was something around that even he could get drunk on. Unfortunately with the replicator busted, that was going to have to be put on hold. So he'd just have to entertain himself making other people drunk. "Ain't that just the way? And it's not like we can just sit back and not do anything because we're the ones living here in the meantime."

"Can't say I'd argue that logic." Already he's eager for a way out of here, and he's barely been here at all. A little risk is more than acceptable — not that it'll happen, for this particular case, but there's potential still.

There's also potential that something like that could blow up in their faces, but best not to think about that.

"You gotta admit, pretty smart of them in that regard." Make a mess and expect someone else to clean it up; at least the behavior isn't restricted to just human beings. Not that it makes things any better, but there is something about familiarity that should probably be reassuring. (It's not, but it should be.) "Gonna have quite a list of things I wanna take them to task for, at this rate."

Eh, things blowing up in your face is just part of the risk. Unfortunately without his Ghost around, Cayde's had to be more careful about how much risk he took on short of making him irreparable or dead.

"Sneaky is more like it, although I don't know if I want to give them that much credit yet." The Exo pauses, making a face. "...then again, they did manage to get us all down here on threat of a storm."

He forces a laugh. "I'm sure there's a line for that. They haven't answered my love letters. Maybe I should try pictographs next."

"It says to me that they're pretty good manipulators, which might be more important than sneakiness or smarts." He wondered too if they would have forced the point; clearly they could bring people to this place, and however they did it, they could aim well enough that the Solider had appeared right in these tunnels. If people hadn't cooperated, would they have just forced the populace down here? An interesting question, and one he's not sure he wants to vocalize.

More and more he's believing that these Agrii must have a way of observing their interactions. It puts him even more on edge.

"You got any artists? If the general opinion is distaste in regard to all this, pretty sure someone might be willing to put that into a picture."

That's always been a hanging possibility, and Cayde only squints a bit at the reminder that their Agrii friends might be capable of more than they're letting on.

"Eh, I'm sure there are some around," he says. "Not something I usually ask about. I'd be surprised if no one's tried to do it already. The Agrii sure like to leave their own doodles. You seen 'em? I'm guessing it's supposed to be a self-portrait, not that it puts you at ease, with the fangs and all."

He digs around for his communicator tablet thingy, swiping around until he finds the picture he'd taken during the welcome home party. A squiggly, childish drawing done in pink paint of a three-eyed smiley face with fangs. The paint dribbled down from the fang points. Intentional or no?

01 | All lies and jests; still a man hears what he wants to hear

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