towerofanimus | Locked in the Tower ✪ Part One: Who Saves the Superheroes?

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Locked in the Tower ✪ Part One: Who Saves the Superheroes?

Characters:	Late arrival David "Little David" Puskás and anyone and everyone!
Setting:	Any Dormitory Floors and staircases leading down to Floor Ninety-One. Later, the Cafeteria.
Format:	Starting with Prose, will match tagger's choice.
Summary:	Some people take the news that their world has been destroyed with nonchalance. Little David ... is not one of them.
Warnings:	Beware of low-flying superheroes!

Introspection

     David "Little David" Puskás bolts upright in his bed. The sleep paralysis left him in a state of mild panic. You'd think a Blaster like himself wouldn't be bothered by that sort of thing, given their reputation for being able to fight even in their sleep—but rarely does something like this just happen out of nowhere ... what was he doing before, anyway? Wait—no, that's right, he was about to return to Primal Earth after performing another dimension-scouting mission for Portal Corp. How'd he wind up out of his armor and in some kind of white spandex bodysuit? And in somebody else's bed? Because there's no way this could be his digs in Kings Row. His bedroom wasn't nearly this big or bland, and he sure as heck didn't share it with three other people—

     At last, David notices the letters waiting for him on the nightstand. Without getting out of the bed just yet, he reaches over and picks them both up, scanning over the first one.

     Your world has been destroyed.

     David's guts turn to ice.

     I saved you.

     No.

     Let's all be happy here.

     No.

     Screw. That. Noise.

     David doesn't even bother reading the second letter. Both of them are slammed down onto his nightstand as he tears right out of his bed—he needs to get out of here, wherever this is. He needs to get back to Primal Earth. He's got to see this destruction for himself, and if it's true—there's got to be a way to fix it. Somehow. If nothing else Silos and his Menders at Ouroboros would know what caused it and what to do—where is his gear?!

     It takes David a second to notice in his mild panic to notice the trunks and open the one at the foot of his own bed. With all the sloppy second-guessing of an impromptu fire drill, David starts gathering the pieces of his suit from the trunk, strapping them on and suiting up much as a knight would don plate mail. Once he's fully suited up and the helmet's heads-up display clicks on, David starts grabbing for his gadgets and weapons, only to find that there's only a scant few things waiting for him in the trunk—and what did they do to his rifle?! Completely in pieces, none of his ammunition to be found anywhere, not even the nanofactory—screw it, he can find a replacement on Primal Earth easily.

     He just needs to get out of here, right now—wait. First, he opens the travel cigar case he'd just placed on his belt and places a fresh stogie in his mouth. Then he bolts for the door, kicking off into the air as his back and boot-mounted plasma thrusters flare to life.

     Can't forget the cigar. Not even during the apocalypse.

Option A: Any Dormitory Floors and stairways between Floors 101 and 92

     "GANGWAY! GANGWAY! HERO ON OFFICIAL BUSINESS!"

     Little David's yelling that as he rockets through the Dormitory Floors and down into the tower proper. If he's not the only person here who's been "rescued" from the end of their world, then he has no reason to suspect that people wandering the hallways are potential minions of whatever villain laid Primal Earth low. Or so he's thinking right now. That, and he's not exactly in a position to go "defeat all enemies" lacking in ammunition and an assembled rifle as he is.

     So right now he's focusing on finding an exit out of this place as fast as possible, and he's flying as fast as he can manage through the corridors and hallways of each floor in pursuit of that goal. Initially he tries traveling up the tower only to find that the first dormitory floor is the highest accessible point, then tries making his way down instead. For a short, squat guy wearing a suit of armor that makes him look like Danny DeVito trying out for an American football team, he's surprisingly nimble, almost like a flying dolphin—not once does he splat into a wall, though he does kick off of them a few times to keep his momentum up as he rounds corners and traverses staircases.

     "OUTTA DA WAY! GET OUTTA DA WAY!"

     Of course, the same avoidance of an ungraceful collision with the confines of the tower can't be said for surprise pedestrians in his path ...

Option B: Floor 91 - CLOSED TO ~~FIRST RESPONDER~~

swordedpast

     Continuing his trek down the tower's floors, trying to find some means of escape, Little David's already seen how bizarre the floors can get. He hasn't given most of them more than a glance, though, because—let's face it, would a giant ball pit be the ideal place for a dimensional gateway to other worlds? If that letter had any truth to it (and considering how this tower's owners managed to grab him right in the middle of returning to Primal Earth), there are billions—no, probably orders of magnitude more than that—of lives at stake. Ball pits are a secondary objective.

     When Little David flies down the staircase to Floor 91, his first thought is surprise at finding that the tower seems utterly disconnected from the rest of itself. That is some high technology or magic at work, right there.

     Then he wonders if he could take a shortcut and fly down the side of the tower to find a possible exit back to Primal Earth.

     —and then the flight system's thrusters cut out, as if he had manually switched them off.

     It only takes a fraction of a second for David to recognize just what is happening: Power Suppression!

     Without the flight system active, David has no way to correct for inertia. He's carried right off the stairway, thudding onto the floor and skidding across toward one edge of the tower. He tries to claw at the tower's floor, hoping he can find a handhold before he slides right off the edge of the tower. Who knows how far he'd fall—and if whoever it is that's spirited him away to this tower messed with his stuff upon "saving" him, they probably have taken or taken apart the MediCom Teleporter, too.

     Little David manages to stop his slide just as his legs go over the edge. Now he's struggling to pull himself back up, without much of a stable grip to do it with. Normally pulling himself up off of a ledge wouldn't be a problem, but, well ... Power Suppression is a bitch. So is the fact that the floor is unshielded from the stratosphere, something that he is starting to take notice of in detrimental ways.

     He's going to need some help.

Option C: Cafeteria

     Some time after the ordeal on Floor 91 and having had time to process what information he's gleaned about the Tower thus far, Little David finally heads down to the cafeteria (using the elevator this time) to get some food. Oatmeal, if he's been told about that particular ritual every new arrival must go through. If not, he'll have a small altercation with the units that might be working here, but either way he's going to end up with a bowl of the stuff and not appear all that happy about it.

     Though what's really eating at him is the prospect that his entire universe, everyone he's ever known, just up and died like that. Five years of his life spent as a superhero trying to keep that from happening, and it happened anyway. So he's trying to figure out the cause for that in his head while he eats the oatmeal, going over every possible threat he's been aware of that could be capable of ending the whole universe. At least it takes his mind off of the blandness of the mush.

     And yes, he still has the cigar, currently holding it between fingers in one hand while he eats the oatmeal. And it's never been lit, this entire time.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Baloney!" David's indignation has not waned. Though he may sound a little desperate, there. "Dere's ways. I just—gotta get outta here, wherever dis is, try an' get to Ouroboros—"

—wait, what. What did she say about monsters? David's brain is lagging behind his mouth.

"What, somethin's tryin' to tear down dis place, too?"

Xue'kol shrugged, "Believe wat ya be wantin' mon. I ain't 'ere ta convince ya, jus' educate ya. First, der be no place outta da Towah, many 'ave been tryin fer unknown years now. An' two, whatevah ya knew back in wherevah ya be comin' from ya can start throwin' it outta da window. Dis place, it ain't rite mon."

With that, she turned to face him, now getting a good look at him and raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Yeah? Try me," David says, punctuating it by blowing a sigh out of his nostrils. "Look—you're Jamaican, right? Mutant origin? I'm from Paragon City. Ain't a day dat goes by dat somethin' ain't right goin' down somewhere. Gonna take a lot outta dis place to get me shook up."

He's still floating idly in the air, the thrusters keeping him aloft and almost motionless, though now he's doing it while putting his fists on his hips. That sort of pose that's a standard for all superpowered types.

"Jamaican? No mon, I be Azerothian if dat be wat joo askin'. An' joo bettah believe dat dis place will be givin' ya more'n joo bargain for. Please tell me dat ya ain't gonna be like most rookies who underestimate da Towah tinkin' dey be seein' it all an' den end up bein' ripped apart an' brought back again just ta have it happen again."

Azerothian? So she isn't from Primal Earth at all? ... Well, it was kind of silly for him to assume that anyway. If he was handling missions in other dimensions for Portal Corp, why should this tower be present somewhere on his Earth? He doesn't (yet) know how tall this tower really is, but surely he would have heard something about a place like this back in Primal Earth if it existed there. Towers aren't the wisest choice for a secret facility.

"So den tell me, what kinda crap goes on here?" The talk she just gave him actually reminded him a lot of his early days as a superhero, the way other superheroes would regard him. "Dey save people, stick 'em in a tower fulla monsters, an' den ... what?"

"If I were ta be tellin' ya wat be goin' on 'ere. Nawt only would I be takin' all week an' den sum mon, but joo'd jus' be tinkin' I be hittin' da hookah too 'ard." Which was true, considering the crazy shit that happened in this place.

"Den? Den we be der toys mon. Guinea pigs fer der experiments. Dey keep us alive, even if we be dyin' in said experiments or from accidents in da towah, or being killed by da monstah's an oda residents at times. Dey bring us back an' we keep goin' as if da death meant nottin'"

David doesn't interject when this ... Azerothian? ... Declines to give details on what kind of nasty business happens within the Tower. He's still skeptical that the Tower could possibly be so beyond reason that he wouldn't accept the facts being told straight up, but ... the more he listens to what the woman is saying, the more angry he appears. To the point of gritting his teeth on that cigar in his mouth.

"What—ya mean dat letter I got was just a lie?" The timbre in his voice doesn't come from surprise at the prospect of deception on part of his "saviors" as much as it is the audacity they have in telling people they've been rescued, only to make them glorified lab rats.

"Dey be savin' us. As far as we can tell, our worlds did get destroyed mon. But dat don' mean dey be havin' our best interests in mind mon. At least nawt in da way dat most people would be tinkin'."

Because most people don't consider having their soul torn assunder a 'good deed'.

"Oh. Great. So it's an 'outta da fryin' pan, into da fire' kinda deal. Lovely." Anything but, by David's bitter tone.

He still sounds as resolute as ever, though. With complete seriousness, he adds, "I ain't gonna take dis lyin' down. If dere's a way outta dis joint, I will find it. I'm a hero. It's what I do."

"Good luck, ain't anybody stoppin' joo mon. Many a' da residents still do. I be jus' tellin' joo how it be s'far as I been here an' lemme tell ya mon; I been here longah dan I would be likin' ta admit."

Xue rolled her shoulder before crossing her arms over her chest.

"As fer a hero, join' da ranks mon. Der be a dime a dozen 'round dees parts."

"Dis place got a thing for takin' superheroes, eh?" That, combined with the knowledge that the Tower's owners use everyone as lab rats reminds David of the Revenant Hero Project that Crey Industries had going. In a way, it makes him glad he wasn't actually born with any superpowers.

"An' nobody's busted out yet? Not even da Zig can claim dat kinda security ..." He would be impressed if this place actually held people that deserved imprisonment. And, well, didn't torture them.

"Dunno wat da Zig be mon, but it ain't from lack of tryin' yanno? Dis place ain't like anyting anyone here be seein' before, an' lemme tell ya. Sum a' da people who be endin' up here be pretty wild an' beyon' comprehension. An' I be comin' from a world were ya gotta fite old gods dat be tossin' ya into alternate dimensions an' worse."

If David's stunned by the prospect of a world like that, he isn't showing it. Rather, he brings one of his armored hands up and tugs a little at the collar on his neck, in a sort of embarrassed gesture.

"Oh—uh, right. Da Zig's short for Zigursky Penitentiary, see. Big honkin' prison built specifically for keepin' superpowered criminals in check. It's got some kinda fancy power suppression system, so I hear. But even den dere's inmates breakin' out left an' right, and dat's not countin' da times dey get outside help. Every time I go to Brickstown dere's usually a gaggle of 'em tryin' to escape dat I gotta haul back in."

"So for dis tower to have not anybody escape at all ..." Yeah, he looks concerned.

"Yeah, good luck mon. Like I said, it ain't bein' from da folk 'round here nawt tryin' mon. But I bet ya be da type dat will 'ave ta be seein' wit der own eyes. Ya can always begin' by askin' 'round da network. Many folk be willin' ta tell ya der experiences in dis place mon."

David's attention refocuses on her after that mention of a network.

"Dey got a computer network here? An' dey let people use it?"

Not that he's taken a good look around the Tower yet, but everything she's told him so far has led him to imagine the Tower as something more like a prison than an arcology.

"Aye dey do. Dey monitor it more closely nowadays mon, but it be gettin' da job done if ya be wantin' a quick message or sumtin'."

It was still best to do face to face and such, but still.

Oh. Well, in a supposedly inescapable tower, David supposes the owners wouldn't care what people said on a network—

Wait.

If they weren't monitoring the networks that close before, but they are now—

His expression visibly lightens up.

"Why'd dey start keepin' a close eye if dey didn't before? Somebody almost got outta here?"

Xue'kol laughed a good hearty laugh and shook her head.

"Joo be quite da one track mind kinda guy ain't cha? I do be appreciatin' da persistance doh, it be a good spirit trait mon. But no, no one has evah been close or anyting fer dat mattah. Da only ting dat evah thrashed da towah sumwat came from outside, an it was worse fer us dan da administrators... many died dat day."

David gives a small grin of his own in response to her observation about his persistence, but it fades at the news that finding a way out wasn't the reason the admins ramped up security. It falls even further at the mention of the attack on the Tower, and the deaths it caused.

"What'd da admins do about dat? Treat it like a convenient research experiment? I mean—you said dis place has some kinda monsters already, right?"

And now that he's brought that back up, he glances around the current floor they're on. His personal radar hasn't picked up anything, though ...

"Nailed it mon, nice research oppahtunity an' den when dey felt dey be needin' ta fix it, dey did. Tings went back ta normal... Or as normal as dey could be in dis place."

Xue crossed her arms and nodded, "Aye, tis crawlin' wit dem. But dey become most active at nite, an' der be certain floors dat become definite death traps at dose times mon."

David's expression turns grim now. It takes him a moment to remember that this woman had told him that death is not permanent here—anyone can be literally brought back from the dead? Oh, if only such technology (or perhaps magic? But if there's computer networks, it's more than likely technology) wasn't confined to a horrible "sanctuary" like this ...

"Which floors would dose be?" He sets his jaw, readjusting the cigar in his mouth. Having his rifle brought with him completely disassembled, and without any ammunition, makes more sense—what with all the sadistic experiments she's saying goes on here ... He does wonder why they let him have anything of his at all, though, if they were looking to make people suffer.

Edited 2013-06-09 04:08 (UTC)

"Pass by mah room latah an' I be givin' ya one a' me maps if ya be wantin'. But, long story short; It be da floors..." Xue points out only the floor that are USUALLY safe at all times, though she sighs a little and shakes her head.

"But a'course, dat don't mean dat der can't be surprises mon. Whatevah da administratah's want, dey usually be gettin'. So dey can be sendin' monstah's through dose floors at times. Or sumtimes dey jus' wander in an' such. I rarely be hearin' 'bout dey frequentin' da media an' da lounge doh."

David listens to the woman's overview of the tower's nastier parts, nodding every once in a while as he tries to keep that information in mind ... but it's a lot to absorb. He'll have to take up her offer to look at that map she has—but at least "the lounge and the media floors are relatively safe" is easy enough to remember.

He doesn't look very happy about the fact that monsters can pop up anywhere. Not so much for himself, but that there's no potential safehouse that defenseless captives could be taken to in the event of an emergency.

"Alrighty," David replies, "Dey must have everyone livin' up at dose apartment-like floors up top, yeah? Where'd dey put you?"

"Aye, dat dey all be. Evah since I be gettin' here 'bout two years or sum, I been at 1-19 mon. Seen more dan my fare share a' people come an' go. But dat be were ya can be findin' me. Mostly at nite mon, since I hunt, swim an' try ta relax durin' da day."

Yep, she wasn't gonna stress it. This place took a toll enough on you as it was.

"1-19 ... got it." He'll have to take a closer look around the dorm floors later.

"Are dere a lotta people who do dat monster huntin' here? Do dey got any kind of, uh—organization for dat?" Because if there is, David's going to want to join up with it. ... as soon as he puts his assault rifle back together.

Locked in the Tower ✪ Part One: Who Saves the Superheroes?

Opera ate parts of my previous tag, I just noticed. Whoops. D:

Opera's hungry!

Bad Opera, no biscuit!

XD Don't tease it! Next time it'll eat everything!

It IS a glutton for memory. D8

So I heard XD

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Holy crap, sorry about the long delay; things got real busy!

No worries!

Sorry again about the delay; I put a note up at the OOC comm, but I should be OK to tag this week!

It's okies! No worries =D

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