emptynesters | TEST DRIVE :003

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test drive

TEST DRIVE :003

WELCOME to the test drive and thank you for your interest in Station 72! To allow players to experiment with game mechanics, flexibility and to account for the fact that our TDMs tend to span a number of months to make up for our low player turnover, we've put together a game-themes random scenario generator for you to play with. Mix and match prompts at will, pick your own broodmates, experiment with abilities and specializations, talk to each other and maybe make up some pre-established CR, and generally play around however you like.

This test drive is not game canon, so take this chance to go nuts! Current in game players are also welcome to make top levels here and aren't beholden to their in-game characterizations (so if it makes more sense to be a broodmates of a character test driving, feel free to do so for the sake of these threads).

For the full experience, we strongly encourage players to write up a short blurb about what their fellow characters might know about them either through shared time on the Station or through the Nest mental link. Handy links can be found at the bottom of this entry if you have any questions and APPLICATIONS are always open if you decide you'd like to jump into the game proper. If you're having trouble coming up with a symbiote ability for your character for use in either the TDM or for your application, we have an ability workshop post located HERE.

(Mix and match these prompts at will to create your own TDM scenario - there's no obligation to use something from every category. Feel free to make up anything that isn't covered in the prompt if it lends to your playing.)

     THE PLACE

1. STATION 72 consists of massive, alien sprawl. While large sections of the Station might be mistaken for a Station manufactured for use by humanoid beings - the hangar is relatively standard other than its massive size, the Life Support deck with its series of living quarters seems normal enough (if you ignore the part where none of the rooms have doors on them), and there's even a Jai Alai court -, beyond the most well trod paths the Station quickly cedes to the utterly bizarre. Corridors twist and loop back in on themselves, great verandas overlook massive empty rooms, ramps because stairs which lead to dead ends. It's easy to get lost if you don't have a destination in mind. Strangely enough, if you do know where you want to be, the Station's twisting paths will eventually get you there as long as you keep your goal firmly in mind. Knowing that is another thing entirely.

2. THE MELTED WORLD was once beautiful. Then again, maybe it's always been a toughened old rock, but at some point the planet called Ojan was glassed in the throes of a brutal war. The planet's entire surface has become a twisted, mirror-like substance by whatever super hot biological weapon was poured into it. The material isn't actually that horrible, consuming black; it perfectly reflects the empty, quiet space that surrounds Ojan: a foreboding testament to a war long forgotten. But what lies below the surface of the desolated world?

3. THE SCEPTRE is a fabulous building structure suspended from an asteroid in orbit around a planet. The Sceptre pierces down through the atmosphere of the planet below and over the course of the asteroid's orbit, The Sceptre has an opportunity to pass through every habitat and climate the world below it has to offer. The Sceptre is sleek and beautiful (or it is? Maybe it's fallen into disrepair and only ghosts remain) and its massive windows look out onto a varied, verdant world (or do they? What state is the planet below in, exactly? Has it been so thoroughly paved over that the atmosphere is the only place left to build?).

4. PENTARA PRIME is the ancient, meandering capital of the lush garden world of Pentara. Unlike most cities, it is a large, verdant sprawl, made up eighteen clustered centers - groups of low, elegant stone buildings, strung together by winding roads populated with quietly humming pods moving people from spoke to spoke. The capital is built around leisure, not production and there are far more gardens and orchards than there are buildings. The sun is heavy and low, and the air is still and buzzes with the sounds of fat-bodied insects. It’s so still, so calm. It seems empty and there is something unsettling in the quiet. --Or is it? Maybe it's bustling with energy, just as vibrant and delightful as it seems on the surface.

5. CHORIUS is not quite a planet. Not anymore. Once long ago it was, but over time it has changed - been stripped clean of every valuable mineral, every scrap of rare metal, and eventually even of atmosphere. The core has cooled perceptibly and now even its rotation period has slowed dramatically. Now it is a made up of shaped carbon and steel that bridge over the stripped surface of the planet, pulsing with energies, shielded from the harshness of the sun by a webbed dome that keeps the electric scented air from escaping into the space around it. Here nothing is wasted. Everything - everyone - is recycled and reconstituted into new forms. Every one of the cities changes daily, reformatted to meet new goals and new needs. It is a dead world filled with the living. But whether it is thriving or dying is hard to say - and what the newest change will bring with it is even more difficult to guess.

6. SPACE, THE FINAL FRONTIER. There's a lot of it in every direction.

     THE PEOPLE

1. THE OUTLANDERS consist of small bands of settlers and explorers who have quested out into the unknown, the remote, and the dessicated parts of this galaxy looking for either new opportunities or forgotten mysteries. They are mostly upright though only vaguely humanoid, remnants of a civilization driven from their own failing world, each group is bound only by their own codes and personal laws. They're traders and nomads, largely peaceful but wary of the harsh, dangerous environment and beings they've crossed paths with. Don't cross a deal with an Outlander - they'll make you regret it.

2. A VERITABLE MELTING POT, the beings of this metropolis are as vibrant and diverse as is imaginable. These are a people developed by a myriad of cultural influences, technological insights, overlapping interests and clashing societal norms shaken up and spit out into something that more or less works as long as there's a whole lot of bureaucracy to keep it in order. And boy is there a lot of that. Mind your p's and q's - someone might haul you in for questioning if you cause too much of an uproar.

3. A RUINED GHOST is all that remains of this ancient civilization. Once there were people here leading brilliant or lives, or quiet ones, but all that's left are their ruined structures, old half-functional consoles and signs of lives abruptly arrested. What destroyed these people is initially unclear, but their extinction appears to have been absolute. --Or was it?

4. THE COURT is elegant and beautiful and perfect. Every being is shrouded in delicate, gauzy fabrics layered so densely as to obscure their elongated squirming bodies from head to toe. Each step sounds like a bell ringing from the the small metal plates at the bottom of their soft slippers; every gloved finger glints with small golden threads. The queens sweep through their secret insect gardens and their royal technomancers walk the halls with the glitter of hologlyphs sparkling at their fingertips and in the wake of their sweeping robes.

5. THE GREAT MILITARY is larger even than it’s name suggests. Every member of their civilization plays some part in it, every person has a rank, every family an insignia. The structure is rigid and inflexible and all-encompassing, and it has made them into ferocious enemies. They have been at war for as long as they have been a people, and their battle will never end, because if it did, they would go with it. The harshness of their life is painted on the sharp planes of their grey faces, but there is an indomitability and a pride to them that is hidden by their stern, unchanging expressions.

6. SCUM ALWAYS LIVES at the edge of the universe. Beware the dark of the space and the seedier underbelly of cities or the shadows of forgotten planet - pirates make their living there and these are desperate times, friend.

     THE OBJECTIVE

1. GET UP from where you've fallen. Or get up from the nesting deck pod where you've just woken up on the Station. Or get up to Level 672 where there's a ship waiting for you. Or get up from the knee you've taken before this alien queen. Get up.

2. THE RESCUE might be saving a city from a disaster engineered by an enemy force, playing bodyguard for a government official, or liberating a rare artifact from a crumbling structure.

3. IT'S A RACE AGAINST TIME to collect the relic you've been sent to retrieve from the collapsing ruin. Or to make your way free of the military blockade. Or to make your escape from a crumbling world.

4. THE MASQUERADE is all a cover - for an assassination. For a heist. For a political coup.

5. INFILTRATE you know what you need. And you know who has it. With a little help you’ll be able to break into the place no one is supposed to go. You could sneak in… or smash in. Or maybe just talk your way past every little problem.

6. COME ON AND SLAM and welcome to the jam. It’s a ritual or maybe it’s just a pastime, but whichever it is there are rules and there is a goal. There’s probably even points. If you’re lucky, you just might score one. Avoid the spiky pits? Or maybe the thrown fruit. Or perhaps just the other team...

6. EXPLORE and uncover the secrets this place have to offer. There’s a mystery here if you know where to find it. And all you have to do is look.

7. DON'T DIE is easy to say and hard to do when you're under the guns of an armada. Or when you're trying to outwit spies. Or when the ground is literally crumbling under your feet.

     INSPIRATION

NAVIGATION • PREMISE • FAQ • RULES • GLOSSARY • APPLICATIONS • SYMBIOTIC SKILLS • ABILITY POINTS

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

juno steel is a private detective with a sharpshooter's eyes — or eye, now, since he lost one to an ancient martian telepathic tumour when it burst inside his skull. he has a cybernetic replacement eye that he's still getting used to. he's your typical noir detective, from a distant future on mars; cynical, jaded, hardboiled. or he tries to be. mostly he's just self-loathing to the point of being a danger to himself, and desperate to make his city a better place, which isn't a pretty combination on a lady like him.

i. chorius — race against time

[ have you ever wanted to stop a murder with some good old-fashioned detective work? if not, then too bad. for whatever reason, you got dragged in by Juno's bad luck magnet today, and you might as well help out while you're here. or he seems to think so, anyway, if the way he's been ordering you around is any indication. ]

Come on, there's gotta be something here. [ he doesn't even look up from the desk he's digging through, but he calls out: ] Hey, go through that bookshelf back there, might be something they missed. We're looking for papers on anything suspicious — financial records, important-looking letters, a goddamn diary.

[ he's more jittery than usual, which is saying something. for someone who puts up such a stoic front, he's a restless sort, talking fast and drumming his fingers on any surface his hand touches. at least he knows what his problem is with this case: Chorius hits too close to home. the changing city just makes Juno think of Hyperion, of having to leave it behind the way he did, and it tugs too hard at that desperation he's always felt to make home just a little better than it was the day before. he has to help this city. it rattles around in his head like a beggar's bowl full of coins. ]

ii. pentara prime — masquerade

[ if there's one thing Juno Steel is bad at, it's going undercover. oh, he could probably pull it off, if he really tried. but the thing is that he... doesn't.

instead of engaging in any kind of schmoozing to ingratiate himself with the socialites here like he's supposed to, Juno is mostly just picking at food and deflecting anyone who tries to talk to him with cutting sarcasm. nobody finds it charming. he could not be trying less hard to make this work, and he really, really doesn't care. besides, his thoughts keep coming back to — to Duke Rose, that stupid card game and that stupid gamble on Juno being able to save the day. he doesn't want to think about this. ]

How long can these things drag on. [ could he save a little trouble for himself if he didn't communicate verbally? sure. he also refuses to give anyone any more reason to be in his head than he has to. ] You seen any drinks going around?

[ that might help this night pass quicker, if nothing else. ]

iii. wildcard

[ whatever you want! juno steel, private eye, is at your service. ]

There's nothing here.

[ he's tired of inaction; all this scraping and scrambling to find proof, when all they've got to do is Handle That Shit? it's eating into their timeline, which is dwindling second after second that they waste in this room. while he might have his hands full of papers, thumbing through old financial records to match them off with another list - with the attention span of a volatile teenager ( which he is ), he's barely reading them. it's more of a courtesy, at this point. ]

You gotta' fucking stop, we're not gonna' find anything.

[ with that, he slaps a handful of papers down on the table and squares his shoulders, just in case he's gonna be FOUGHT on this ]

It's a waste of time, we should be tailing this gonna-be-victim and getting the drop on whoever wants to hurt 'em. What's a bunch of paperwork gonna do to stop the killer? What, we're gonna make a bulletproof vest out of it?

[ he can't really blame Bakugo; he remembers what it was like to be that angry teenager, before he settled into the heavier mantle of an angry adult. but Juno's patience for detective work doesn't extend to a patience for people, and he slams a drawer shut, tense with frustration over his own failure here. ]

Stopping one person won't change anything.

[ that's why he's done what he does for as long as he has, after all. there's always something else to come, and usually something bigger behind the things already there. instead of looming over Bakugo, who looks ready for a fight, he tears himself away and moves briskly to the bookcase on the other side of the room, knowing that an argument in close quarters is just going to waste time. he needs to figure this out. not that he's going to drop it; he goes on, louder and more sharply: ]

We need to know why if we're gonna end this for good. [ he has one hand braced on top of the short bookcase, his fingers tapping on it with restless energy. ] What if we stop one killer, and another one comes along the next day because we didn't get to the source of it? If you really want a person dead, you don't just give up when your first plan doesn't pan out.

Screwing around here won't either.

[ there's little room in his repertoire for detective work; he's come along because it moves him one step closer to where he wants to be, and that happens to be In The Thick of It. if someone's going to get hurt, he wants to be there, not here. there, where he can actually do something about it instead of sifting through dusty files in the hopes that someone was stupid enough or lazy enough to leave a clue. this sort of work is for someone else, someone lesser. ]

Tch, says you.

[ but, he picks up a sheaf of papers and begins to tear through them, flinging the useless stuff into a haphazard pile behind him with rising frustration, before he throws the remainder to the floor at his feet with a muffled 'thmp' ]

You're the one living in a world of "what ifs" instead of a world of action. If someone's going to be hurt, you don't just dick around where they aren't. Information doesn't stop people from getting hurt, it makes shit worse for them. Just let me at one guy, Juno. One guy, and I can get you any information you fuckin' want! I'll make them piss themselves outta' fear, and send them packing to their mommies when I'm done.

[ it's a lot of bluster, but the idea of being here and not there really seems to bother him ]

[ his temper is short enough on a good day; when there's a feedback loop going on between them of impatience and frustration like a boiling pot, Juno has little hope of biting his tongue. ]

And what happens if you can't?

[ for a moment, he doesn't move, doesn't say anything else — but then he kicks aside the last of his restraint and shoves himself away from the bookcase to whirl on Bakugo. the problem is that Juno was that kid once, and that doesn't inspire much sympathy because that Juno hates that kid. he was an idiot who thought he could solve all the world's problems. seeing that in Bakugo just grates against all of Juno's frayed nerves. he isn't yelling quite yet, but his voice is low and vicious. ]

Huh? You want that to be our only shot? Say we tail the guy, and maybe we catch someone. What if they won't give up what we need, or they just don't know? [ he's talking fast, leaving no room to be interrupted. there's no violence in his movements, but they are sharp, angry gestures. ] Or worse, what if there isn't anyone to catch? You don't have to look someone in the eyes to kill them, Katsuki. Poison, a bomb — hell, drop a piano on 'em, if you've got a thing for theatrics.

[ he snatches up the papers from the floor and turns on his heel. ]

If you want to run off just hoping you can stop this by punching the right person, be my guest. I like to work a little harder when someone's life is on the line.

[ it's not like people telegraph their moves all the time, but Bakugo's not a moron. sometimes, he knows just how far to push a person before they turn on him, and Juno's got a short enough fuse that he could practically time it. the moment the lady whirls, Bakugo steps closer. he'll get in his face, he's got no trouble doing that - practically shoving into Juno's personal space like some street punk ready to throw the fuck down, here and now. ]

If, if, if. It's always "if" with you - you fuckin' coward.

[ he burns for this shit: the confrontation, the fight. words are cheaper than fists, but he's not going to throw the first punch right now. even he can focus on the task at hand, even if the way Juno wants to handle it is bullshit. paperwork's for the aftermath, what needs to happen is more than just scrounging for the chance that something'll come together. ]

Fine, we'll play this out your way. You put all your hope in the idea that you'll be able to cobble together something effective enough to threaten and shame someone, and what if they just don't give a shit? They got funding, they got political power, they can slip right through the cracks and let someone else take the fall for 'em. What you got then, Juno? A fat fuckin' crapton of nothing.

[ he sneers: ]

You think you're the only one who wants to save 'em? I like to work to ensure someone's life isn't taken from them.

[ fine ]

I'll give you an hour of my time, an' then I'm doing it my way.

[ it hits the mark close enough to sting; how many people have gotten away because he didn't have enough evidence to pull it up from the root? how many Cassandra Kanagawas is he going to catch without the people working the strings behind them? honestly, he's not sure his way will turn out any better, and experience has proven that it often doesn't. but Juno's lived for a long time by the fact that he only gets to make one choice and he's stuck with it. you take the shot and it either hits or it doesn't.

at least if Bakugo insists on trying things a different way, they might have a fallback, a second shot that Juno doesn't normally get. besides, it's not like he has any room to talk when it comes to reckless plans. ]

Fine. [ his tone brightens, that deflective sarcasm of his sliding right back into place. ] I work better on a short timer anyway. Now, are you gonna help, or are you just staring at the clock for the next hour?

Fine.

[ two can play at this dismissive sarcasm game, lady!! ]

I'll give you an hour of manual and mental labor, too. Greedy bitch.

[ and almost Prissily, he slinks off to hit up another bookshelf, another filing cabinet. pulling things open and dragging out old infochips, plugging one after another into the spare datapad in his possession. all he's finding it a fat lot of nothing, it's either factors unrelated to their immediate mission, or it's something so far-flung weird that he's beginning to wonder if there's something else ( other than imminent death ) that these people are building up to.

after a while, he meanders over to wherever Juno's at, and holds up something he's found. ] Shipping manifestos, wanna' look?

[ he already skimmed it and taken note, but he's playing it off like this work is so TRIVIAL!!! what a brat. ]

[ much as Juno hates to admit it, he's not getting much of anything either. and it happens sometimes, he knows that; not every haystack has a needle in it, and there's not always a convenient clue when you're looking for it. hell, a lot of his more intense cases get solved at the eleventh hour when he's looking down the barrel of a blaster. he just doesn't ever want a case to be one of those.

trading barbs with Bakugo doesn't help in any way, but it sure makes him feel better. he's taking his time going through papers like if he reads carefully enough, by some miracle he'll find the answer; he doesn't even look up from them to respond. ]

You can read, Katsuki. Does it look important?

Th' fuck you think I'm bringing it to you for?

[ "does it look important" wow ]

You want this to be your show, you better run it right.

[ meaning: if he's bothering to give you his oh-so-valuable time ( and effort! ), you better be willing to do more than just ignore him when he's actually deigning to help. Bakugo pushes the data around on the pad he's pulled out of the bowls of an old server-storage system, finds what he was eyeballing -- what he'd found and was looking for a damn second pair of eyes for, and literally shoves it into Juno's space. right into his arms. disrupts all his papers and everything. like a horrible, awful cat that wants attention. ]

Three years ago, the terminal went flumsy. Started shedding files and backups like it was molting season and someone got too itchy.

[ he knew a few kids with scales okay ]

I'm not a datahound. How about you make yourself useful and use that Qu-- that weird eye of yours?

[ there's an indignant protest that Juno yelps when Bakugo decides to just knock everything out of his hands — but it's dropped almost immediately. maybe just because his eye is brought up.

he makes a face, never particularly pleased when someone else calls for him to use the cybernetic eye like he's a dog with one good trick in him. it's not something Bakugo thinks much of, he knows that; he's used to people with special talents, those Quirks, a little boost to do things beyond the ability of your own two hands. Juno isn't. when he came to the Station he'd only just gotten the damn eye put in, and it meant he'd had to get used to two completely different kinds of things digging roots into his head. it hasn't left him with a lot of fondness for the little piece of tech. ]

Theia, how 'bout it. [ talking to it aloud makes it feel more like a virtual assistant, which is nice, because there are enough things digging around in his fucking thoughts already. ] Anything you can pull from this?

[ unfortunately, he can't cut out the middleman and just send the Theia's chatter along to Bakugo the way he can with his own mental dialogue. but he can pass the gist of what it finds across in impressions: ghosts of files that someone wasn't careful enough to scrub properly, suspicious cargo, a lot of money changing hands. a few names that come up over and over again. Juno's assessment of the information comes tacked on almost like an afterthought — dealing in something illegal, probably for a larger group. the kind that can afford to cut their loose ends when someone doesn't keep their end of a bargain. just as changeable as the city it makes its home in. ]

I'm starting to think maybe our gonna-be-victim is less "innocent bystander" and more "caught red-handed by the kind of people you don't want to mess with."

[ he doesn't hover, he's too proud to do that. even if he is eager to see recognition of his findings in Juno's eyes. he rocks on his toes, instead, hands deep in his pockets. shuffling around through one of the minor dimensions that have somehow become his secondary, symbiote-granted Quirk. he hates them, they're not his. it's as though the symbiote didn't think he was enough on his own, and thought he had to be more. gross.

doubly-gross, is the co-mingling of information and impressions from Juno. it's too easy to just drop thoughts through the link between them, the one that, if he ignores it enough, he can pretend doesn't exist. which makes it all worse when he's suddenly reminded that it does. he snaps back, reactive and burning hot: the mental equivalent of someone backhanding an offering, refusing it because it's insulting. ]

Use your fuckin' words, I can follow you better.

[ nothing follows better than sharing direct, unfiltered thoughts, but it's not as invasive ]

Fine. Cool, all the more reason to get on his ass - we can waylay him instead and wring some damn answers outta' him.

[ the way Bakugo's mind lashes out at him leaves Juno reeling. he's not all that attached to the link himself, but it's getting to be automatic with how often he's forced to use it anyway, and he feels like he just reached out and put his hand down on a stovetop. his mental discipline isn't usually good enough to keep walls up between himself and the rest of the Nest; with this, as soon as he gets burned, Juno shuts down everything. no anger. his head goes cold and empty. ]

Fine. [ he's not happy about this, but when is he ever happy about anything. ] Let's get going.

[ the Theia didn't really get what they need, but it got enough to be useful and probably all they're going to find, so Juno abandons the datapad and the various papers, and he heads for the door — holds it open for Bakugo with a sarcastic flourish. if it were anyone else with him, this might be the time to split up, someone to keep digging for information and someone to see what they can pry out of the potential victim; not with Bakugo. Juno lives off the guilt for his own mistakes, but he hates cleaning up someone else's, and he doesn't believe that sending Bakugo out to investigate alone wouldn't end in a mess.

at times like this, he misses Rita more than anything, like a phantom limb. she would have had an answer for him from just a name and the right framing of all the vague details he could offer. ]

Look, I have to ask, should I be worried about how eager you are to interrogate someone? We're not going to have to play good cop/bad cop, are we? Because my good cop credentials got revoked when I left the force.

[ got himself kicked off the force and everyone knows it, but whatever. ]

[ heroes aren't taught police procedure. they're brought up as engines with a two-fold goal: fight villains, save people. crimes that require investigation, mysteries that need to be unfolded or puzzles that need to be solved go to the rank-and-file of the mundane world. the fact that right now, Juno is forcing him to do legwork that he doesn't see the point of, that he wasn't raised to understand rankles at him. like a little sharp thing, digging up into his ribs -- telling him: look how much smarter he is, look at how well-prepared he is, he has the upper hand here.

for a boy like Bakugo, it's a slow, ugly chokehold. ] Who the fuck do you think I am.

[ he stops in the doorway, heedless of how sarcastically the lady is holding the door for him; glances back, over his shoulder. his mind is a simmering thing, ready to boil over at the slightest provocation and his resentment of Juno Steel is a vibrant, raw creature unto itself. there's a root to it, somewhere in the depths of his mental chaos. some internalized reason he can handle Juno when he's angry, but not when he's condescending. or when Bakugo perceives him as being condescending, to be fair. which. is how he views most people. ]

My job's to save people and stop bad guys and I haven't forgotten that, just 'cause I got you living in the back of my brain with your baggage. I know what I'm doing -- I'm not a cop, I'm a Hero. [ lbh you should always be worried about Bakugo, but he's just radiating a non-verbal dare: question him again on his intentions, pal ]

He'll talk. No need to play games like children.

[ he's a little too close for comfort, maybe, when he lifts a clenched fist - unfurling his fingers to display several small bursts of flame and force. ]

-- you didn't have to ask. [ out the door, into the hall. he barely looks back, slouching further and further from Juno as he makes for the door instead of facing him down. the ( thrum; hiss; static bright ) sensation of a dull ache, somewhere centered around his heart drifting back towards his ( stupid; stupid; stupid ) mission partner. ]

[ he doesn't know what to do with Bakugo. he does everything he can to avoid reflecting on himself as a child, and making a real effort to understand someone this close to who he was would be too much alike. instead, they just have this: discontent and banked violence vibrating down the line between them, the connection they can't get rid of reacting to them like two magnets of the same pole.

so he ignores that resentment (swallows it, internalises it) and the threats and the things he knows exist at the heart of Bakugo that he doesn't want to see. he's the adult here and the actual detective. which won't do much to soften the condescending edge of his attitude. ]

Yeah, I did. [ he slams the door behind him and follows Bakugo at a brisk pace, pretending not to notice any of the feelings that reach him. ] Whether we like it or not, we're working together on this, so I need to know what you're thinking. [ he pauses; realises how that sounds, given their situation. ] Not the— not through the Nest. I mean just, out loud.

[ the line between interrogation and torture is one that moves for different people, and it's easier to cross for some than others. it's not a matter of thinking badly of Bakugo, it's— Juno does things his way. even when he's improvising, it works because the pressure is all on him and anything that might be a variable is just part of the obstacles he has to get around. having to account for someone else disrupts that. he's not good at considering others. ]

Don't take it personally. You're not the first partner I haven't trusted.

[ Nureyev could definitely vouch for how much worse Juno can be on a case as a partner — and with that thought comes the telltale emotional spike from Juno, the sharp burst of guilt and love and longing that everyone in the Nest is getting fairly familiar with and tired of. sometimes accompanied by Hadrian Black, his face, his voice, the heartbeat click of his heels. Juno's presence in the link is usually a deep dark pit, so his thoughts about Nureyev stand out like a signal flare. ]

[ if there's one thing (of the many things) that peter nureyev is great at, it's going undercover. in contrast, juno? not so much. then again, peter's never seen him try whole-heartedly to immerse himself into a role, so really, he can't judge. it's just like him to petulantly let it roll off his shoulders (that in and of itself is surprising considering they spend so much time shrugged up to his ears.) but there juno is, standing off-center, hand empty, posture saying it all.

now hadrian black is no duke rose. everyone knows him for what he is, at least in the nest. he's a thief. a traveler. a rambler. a gambler. there's no hiding that when people have their sticky little fingers coming into your mind at all hours of the day and night, so you take what you can get. hadrian black is peter nureyev, barely even painted over, just... changed in name. there are no bells and whistled tacked onto him, no nervous ticks or hideously purple prose.

he's clipped, precise, just like his sharp outfit, just like the motion it takes to slide up besides juno despite the nagging tug of familiar discomfort in the pit of his stomach. he likes to think it's as easily waved away as anything else he doesn't particularly like. ]

If you have to ask about just how long we'll be here, then you'd best make yourself comfortable.

[ the drink finds itself in the crook of juno's fingers, situated properly with a little nudge, the softest click of ice in the center of it. it's as close to whiskey as you get on pentara prime, but even more fiery, with a bite whose taste can be comparable to clove and old world cedar. peter is careful not to touch, letting his fingers, gloved, pull back and retreat to where his arms are folded lightly over his chest. ]

This one should do it.

[ maybe the worst thing about leaving Nureyev was that Juno didn't really think there were going to be consequences. his own guilt, sure; knowing he'd fucked up a chance he'd never get again, and knowing he'd hurt Nureyev in a way he doubts many people have been close enough to do. but they'd never see each other again, and Juno wouldn't be faced with... this. a Nureyev who is cold and distant. it probably hurts more because he knows he's never seen it before, no matter how hostile he was when they worked together.

which is what Juno deserves, so he'll take that hurt without a word of complaint. he looks just as uncomfortable, taking the drink like he'll get electrocuted if they touch. even flinches a little when he meets Nureyev's eye, if only barely. ]

... Thanks. [ he takes a mouthful of it, maybe just to avoid saying anything more. it's good, he just— everything tastes sour around Nureyev. guilt lodged in his throat and leaking poison stronger than anything he tries to wash it down with. ]

God— [ Juno gives one of his quiet laughs, bitter and almost a scoff. ] Someone else should be doing this. The eye isn't that goddamn useful.

[ peter watches him take a drink, keeps himself contained to cool observation before he averts his eyes to the party, a slowly churning wave of color that seems to grow more and more iridescent by the second. best not to stare, as much as he'd like to. truth be told, he tries not to be cold about the situation. juno is...

well he gave him a choice and he changed his mind and peter supposes that's just what happens and tries to move on from it as he's used to. he knows now, doesn't he? rather, he likes to think he does. that it's better like this, even with the stretch of an awkward chill branching out between them. still, his words remain as warm as they had been from day one. same timbre. same nureyev.

he'd like to look at him as he speaks, but that's. difficult. more difficult that peter would like for it to be. ]

I'm fairly sure your eye isn't supposed to be doing all of the work. [ a shrug of one shoulder as peter sweeps a drink off of a passing tray for himself. may as well be on par. he tips the rim up, a drink the color of martian sunrise (blue and hazy). when he pulls from it, he thumbs the excess from his lip. ] That'd be too easy. Don't tell me you've gotten lazy.

Lazy. [ he gives a sharp exhale through his nose and presses the heel of his palm into his cybernetic eye. ] Yeah. Tired, maybe.

[ everything he did was always for Hyperion City. getting dragged away from it but still having that desperate need to put as much of himself into the work as ever, because without that what does he have — it makes him feel like he's spread too thin. he's lost sight of the goal here, and... yeah, maybe it does make him cut a few corners. he's a stubborn bastard, but. even Juno's motivation isn't a bottomless well. getting uprooted when he dug himself in so firmly means it's taking a while to find his footing.

Nureyev makes it a little easier though, whether because he's familiar or because the sharp sting of having him nearby pulls Juno out of his haze. he pushes against his eye harder, inhales, drops his hand. ]

Alright, alright, I'm — I'm paying attention. [ he knocks back the rest of his drink in one swallow, and then he seems to noticeably sharpen, his focus drawing taut. ] So tell me, Hadrian. Who should I be talking to?

[ there are pointed questions they'll need to ask, information they can only get through, ugh, socialising. narrowing things down before Juno's particular skills come in handy. he trusts Nureyev to have scoped out the social side of things without a word, because they work well together for a reason — and ha fucking ha, isn't that a riot. trusts Nureyev now, after everything, after proving that Nureyev has less reason to trust him than ever before. the spike of self-loathing goes up like a signal flare, hits him in the chest hard enough to wind him, and Juno doesn't even blink. business as usual. ]

[ trust is a funny thing, tenuous, taut, frayed, but peter doesn't linger over the concept, rather, feels that very sharp spike in juno, the kind that's like a sucker punch, but one that isn't quite meant for peter himself. he reaches with his free hand and touches juno's elbow in a manner that is both non-commital and intimate on the outside, like a shiny varnish. his thumb presses softly into the bend as he makes to guide him a bit along the outskirts of the main party. ]

If you don't mind.

[ and with a very soft brush, mental this time: ]

( Western most corner of the room, four compound eyes, rather stunning beak. Wearing the chartreuse. )

[ peter is explicit about it with his words, soft and close leaning in like it's simply delightful party conversation. while he doesn't want to be anywhere near juno's mind where perhaps he... isn't wanted, he does leave him the impression of her. tall and willowy, skin almost feathers and scales all at once with those eyes and a shining black beak like jet. ]

( I listened in for just a bit. Emissary from half a system away who is apparently very ruffled with the local Empress' most recent cease and desist policies on the intergalactic transport and trade of some substance called [ hold this sound in your head Juno, it's practically unintelligible, too many consonants and a couple of strangely-placed glottal stops ]. )

[ he pulls up a bit and takes a drink from his glass a moment, looking very much the image of unconcerned, but he continues nevertheless. ]

( Supposedly it's a big to-do, highly addictive stuff but very "in" these days, causing all kinds of riots due to a massive shortage. Supply, demand, pricing. It's made things positively Vesuvian. She's quite displeased at the Empress' decision. )

[ start there, see if anyone else is displeased. peter might peer around the room for other sources of even greater displeasure with their royal mark. peter's presence in his mind wanes a little further as he closes it up, almost like the brushing of palms against one another, dusting them off. he'll be out in a moment, but this is for privacy's sake, juno. ]

( She has to make it past the end of tonight or we'll have war on our hands, or so I'm told. )

Edited 2017-10-12 03:51 (UTC)

[ there's no resistance under Nureyev's hand; just like it always seems to be with the two of them, once Juno's hostility has been gently moved aside, he goes easily. just like Nureyev leading him along with nothing but a knife in-hand, but he doesn't even need a knife to have the advantage in this room. none of these people in their glittering finery know what they're up against.

no, Juno doesn't react there. what does get a rise out of him is the voice that brushes up against his mind, a presence that left too deep a mark on him when it was the only warm thing he had to latch onto at the bottom of a grave. at the first touch, Juno seems to mentally flinch, curling up like an anemone — and then reaching back with the quietest tendrils of thought, and hesitating shy of the distance Nureyev keeps between them. ]

( Of course we will. ) [ the bitterness of his thoughts is why he tries to keep this kind of communication to a minimum; it's not pleasant for anyone, he knows. bad enough to deal with his bullshit out loud, nobody wants the sharp edges of it scraping against their mind. ] ( Just another everyday run-of-the-mill mission, then. Got it. Hey, have I ever mentioned that I'm a detective, not a spy? )

[ he feels Nureyev pulling back, gently closing a door between them, and he reaches out too quickly to catch the coattails of his attention. he doesn't have a good reason for it. the awkwardness sits there as plain as if he'd caught Nureyev's wrist and then realised he couldn't come up with an excuse. so he just adds, pathetically: ]

( When I start sounding like an idiot, just kick me in the shin. )

[ sure, that works. and it's probably going to be necessary too. he shrinks back from Nureyev's mind with guilt, leaving that gulf of neutral space between them and turning his attention away to start moving towards the woman Nureyev pointed out. there's no sense picking at a scab, even if that's what Juno does best. ]

[ juno grabs him like it's a fleeting set of hands that want to pull back at the last moment but don't manage it, and peter waits there in that strange, ephemeral space between their minds. he waits and he holds to it a moment and he listens and there's a warm and rounded sort of laugh that presses up from him. tried and tired, peter's not quite that good at hiding it all just yet, but meant well all the same, a closed mouth smile. ]

( That won't be necessary. )

[ he adds softly, as if he doesn't quite want it to end at that, a finger up, leaning in. ]

( It isn't as if I'd let you go alone. I am quite the resource after all. This whole thing is very open book, with our conversant being the exam, and I your reference material should you need it. )

[ the space between them remains slightly ajar: two people, seated at the bottom of the jamb on opposite sides speaking in hushed tones, but for the most part indulging (or suffering, maybe) in silence.

it's unspoken.

despite what happened.

we don't get to be alone anymore. alone isn't something attainable this... close, as far as you pull from it, as detached as nureyev tries to be, in the end, juno's gravity is painfully good, crushing. enough to leave his fingertips on his elbow as they move together now. ]

[ god help him, Nureyev's stupid metaphor just makes him fond. you're in too deep, Steel.

he's gotten good at keeping those feelings in the back of his mind even when he's the only one occupying it, though, so it doesn't throw him off, no more than that distinct laugh he's missed more than he'd admit. this isn't flirtation anymore; Juno had that and he drained it dry. they're just working together. it does help to have Nureyev on his arm, if only because he knows his own inevitable mistakes might be salvageable.

subtle approaches aren't a part of his repertoire, but the best thing to do seems to be take it slow — a conversation, not an interrogation, right? and it leaves gaps for Nureyev to fill, if he needs to. when he needs to. ]

Excuse me, ma'am. [ his tone of voice is light, friendly enough. only the people that know him would hear it as sharp, his usual false-cheer choice for sarcastic bullshit. ] You mind if we join you? I don't recognize too many faces here, and god, you know how awkward it is to try and cut in on a conversation where everyone knows each other already.

[ he gives Nureyev a little mental tap, the sensation of looking for approval. a wordless question of am i doing it right. the last time he did something like this was with Vicky, and he didn't have to play nice at all; everyone was looking to talk, they were reporters. but this is delicate and he doesn't want to screw it up. ]

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TEST DRIVE :003

juno steel | the penumbra podcast

i. - collides with this

opens arms to catch u

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ii. pentara prime / masq.

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