+- Discovery Gaming Community (https://discoverygc.com/forums)
+-- Forum: Role-Playing (https://discoverygc.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=9)
+--- Forum: Stories and Biographies (https://discoverygc.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=56)
+--- Thread: The Evacuation (/showthread.php?tid=204631)
The Evacuation - Barrier - 09-07-2024
A mismatched mass of humanity anxiously waits in a stuffy landing bay, cleared for the occasion. Hard-bitten Zoners security teams patrol the area, though fights have already broken out. The cries of small children have already blended into the background noise of industrial fans, the murmurs of low conversation, and the shouts of a desperate group of people.
"THAT'S MY SPOT! GET THE FUCK BACK IN LINE!" A well-built man wearing mechanic's overalls shoves a shifty-looking fellow in a ragged uniform. Both of them size each other up, but drop the conflict as the Zoners rush to the opening in the crowd. They look sheepish, but continue staring daggers at one another after the Zoners have left. The shifty man pockets the shiv that he was prepared to use on the meathead, and goes looking for easier prey.
Elsewhere, a tear-stricken young woman compulsively strokes a little girl's head. She is nowhere near the start of the line. Some of the people around her are certainly drunk, while others are clearly under the influence of more powerful chemicals. A man in a poorly-tailored suit approaches her, flashing a conspiratorial grin.
"I can get you closer to the front." He mutters, so as to avoid the others overhearing. "But it'll cost you..."
He leers at her, in case she fails to take his meaning. The woman dries her tears on her sleeve, picks up a small travel bag, and nods once, pulling her daughter behind her.
Near the docking bays, the crews of the various ships split their attention between the fenced off masses, and others of their ilk. Although no fighting of any kind is allowed, two crews in IMG and Cryer uniforms are already nursing bruises and black eyes, and only the presence of a particularly well-armed group of Zoners seems to prevent an all-out assault. In the corner of the docking promenade, a crew of non-descriptively dressed individuals are fussing over a billboard. A camera positioned high in the ceiling catches the slogan: "Quick Jobs on Quillon!" A small argument breaks out about the wording, which is immediately shushed by the opening of the airlock.
"Attention! Ils arrivent!"
The security barrier slowly winds down as it is de-powered. The mass of humanity rushes toward the barely prepared crews, with all thoughts of fairness remaining back in the hangar...
// This a free-for-all storyline which recounts the evacuation of the slaves from Freeport 10, as part of the Snake Eyes event. While anyone may post, the subject matter should be limited to the experience of slaves, the crews of the rescue ships, or those with more ulterior motives. A good rule of thumb is to look at the event factions, and decide if your character belongs to one, or can directly do business with one. If the answer is yes to either question, you may post here!
As a reminder, posting here or in another rp-focused thread (e.g. a report center / message dump) is required to earn the Custom Title award for the event.