It starts with a roll of thunder.
At least, that’s what you think it is—a low growl through the atmosphere that seems to echo deep and low in your chest—as you turn over in bed, or perhaps as you’re finishing your last drink at a local pub with some new acquaintances, or even as you’re walking home on otherwise safe streets, lamps and moonlight guiding your path. All’s well that ends well: the city is your haven, it’s been sold to you as such, and a little stormy weather never did much harm.
You close your eyes. You take a drink. You turn the corner.
But the sound continues, the vibration grows more oppressive, and you may think to yourself: Thunder shouldn’t shake my nightstand.
Thunder doesn’t send a pulse through the tequila in a shot glass.
Thunder wouldn’t compel the asphalt to rumble and churn beneath my boots.
It all happens very quickly after that; things fall apart.
The cheers of late-night partygoers tumble into a minor chord, sliding into screams—a party of five has just lost sight of two of its members as Main Street splits itself in zigzags rippling out from the city’s center. One side surges into the air as the other half plummets several feet down, small ravines forming along the thoroughfare. The damage replicates itself like dominoes, and citizens new and old alike cry for help into the empty night.
Someone is hanging onto the edge of one jagged, yellow-striped mound of asphalt, fingers slipping, grip temporary. Do you know them?
Do you help?
Within minutes, buildings begin to buckle under the stress of the earth shifting. Metal and concrete siding, roof tiles, window panes—what first sounds like cannon fire clearly presents itself as establishments crumbling while panicked citizens race to covered positions or out into the chaos of the openly shaking streets for any semblance of safety.
“Earthquake!” You hear. “Cover your head!”
The tallest buildings suffer the most damage (the bigger they are, the harder they fall). At the city’s heart, the clock tower sinks almost gently down as if feeling faint, seeking solace in the skirts of its foundation. People blink in shock as the dust rolls over them moments later.
Victims covered in soot and debris, looking for all intents and purposes as if they’d been disturbed from their graves, disperse across the city, trying to reach the authorities, to find their loved ones. It’s clear that amidst the rubble, both formed and newly falling, some of these loved ones are trapped. You hear desperate, muffled calls, buried beneath layers of shattered stone and cement. Voices struggling to be heard through the ongoing shriek and groan of the earth… still… shaking. One of these voices may even be your own. Are you near? Can you lead someone to safety?
Can you pull victims from the rubble? Are you, yourself, in trouble?
The city bank’s vault is loose, no doubt. The shops are in trouble, security gates destroyed. Do you take advantage while you can?
Whatever you decide, watch for the emergency vehicles and fire trucks barreling their way toward the center of destruction, rescue crews ready to spot those in need. Perhaps you can help them. Perhaps they can help you, instead. (Perhaps they can apprehend you, too, if you misbehave and don’t cover your tracks.)
The rumble continues, curls its way like a fist further out towards the city limits, losing ferocity as it does, but it takes the temporary housing district for its final victim. The city’s newest arrivals won’t get much sleep tonight. Rifts in concrete walls crawl their way from the ground floors, up, all vine and sinew and spider web. Some are more severe than others. While the first floor rooms may find more damage to their walls, bedroom windows bursting as foundations tilt, the upper floors will see things end up just a hair off in balance—askew. Put a glass of water on the table, and it may not stay in one place for long.
Surely the building isn’t safe enough to sleep in, not now. Can you make it safe? Can you reach out to your neighbors? How do you manage?
Three hours after the initial disturbance, long after earlier news programs had urgently advised all city dwellers to take due cover during the apparent earthquake, a crackling message filters through across television screens, electronic billboards, and on your city-issued devices. Mayor Drake sits in full view in front of the Energem, the symbol of the city, its life force. It is in one piece, from the looks of it, and so is she (if understandably haggard and dark around the eyes). “Citizens of Cadelle, as you know, we’ve suffered quite the seismic anomaly this evening. Tectonic plate shifting is not abnormal in a city so near the coast, but we had yet to experience an earthquake of this magnitude in all our recorded history. Although most of the damage was focused towards the city’s center, that center was hit hard.”
The side of her mouth twitches minutely, as though she is biting back further words, and instead, she plasters on a smile of pure grit. “Our top tier seismology center is already on the case, and the administration will keep you informed of any significant findings. In the meantime, we wish to thank all our rescue workers and volunteer citizens who helped our loved ones find shelter and safety. Please be advised we will begin reconstruction of our Community Housing Facility immediately. Volunteers to assist with this project, and with the restoration of privately owned establishments along Main Street, are welcomed, even encouraged. After a more in-depth assessment, we may be able to create paying job opportunities for the duration of this project. Please stay tuned.”
A constructive spin on this tale couldn’t hurt, could it?
“For now, we wish for you to stay safe. Food and shelter accommodations at the public gymnasium are being made ready for those of you currently left without rooms. We apologize for the communal nature of these accommodations, but it is the best we can provide on emergency notice. We appreciate your patience, and your help.”
And with that closing remark, the feed cuts.
Mayor Drake’s shoulders slide out of their poised position, and she bows her head, hand over her brow.
Behind her, unbeknownst to anyone, the Energem flickers—just once.
On the far side, beneath the cover of the protective wall, a small fissure has formed in the crystal surface.
A kinetic rift.
For more in-depth information about this event and how it affects your character, to ask event-specific questions, and to plot with your fellow players, please visit the event's OOC PLOTTING POST. |
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cuddlemods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
cuddlecity2017-08-12 12:00 pm
no subject
But if this place wasn't going to work together because than he's pretty sure this earthquake might actually do the trick. Not that he doubts the people here. He's always had more faith in people than the system. What they'd want. What they'd do. ]
I uh--I think there more than a few people out there assisting.
[ He nods. ]
This is just as important. Let's get you some place safe huh?
no subject
Matt hears all kinds of people in a panic, in pain, in disgust... He swallows down the worry. Steve is right. There are others helping. They both could be out there.
Not yet. Not for Matt. He has made the decision to keep his skills under wraps... which means that he's the one that would need help. Sort of.]
Thank you.
[He's only blind, after all.]
no subject
But look, Matt, if you want to be heroic then all you have to do is explain that you're "special" and blind. ]
You good just following my voice?
[ He doesn't want to insult the man's independence by trying to take his hand or arm or anything. Not unless he says that's what he wants. ]
no subject
This would be so much easier if he could trust people. And realize that maybe, just maybe, there aren't enemies everywhere. His skills have been on wraps for as long as he's developed his powers.]
Yes, I'm a great listener.
[Which is the truth and then some!]
no subject
Good. Real good. Then just stick with me and I'll get you somewhere less--debris filled. Where're you from originally?
[ Small talk is a thing right. Plus it helps to get to know people. ]
no subject
Matt can't say what he would do with that kind of a dilemma. It's enough to try and juggle who is at what time.]
I'm from New York.
[That's the canned answer for everything.]
So all in all I should be used to debris.
no subject
Really? Me too. Brooklyn actually. I know what you mean about debris.
[ Even before the alien attack there was just that. Construction. Something constantly under construction in some form or another. That was the thing about New York. Constantly reinventing itself. ]
no subject
Brooklyn!
[From one New Yorker to another, he nods.]
I'm from Hell's Kitchen. This is a real change of pace. I mean, befre today.
no subject
[ But they were from a different time. A lot earlier than anything modern. Steve definitely got along with them pretty well. Not just because Bucky had been trying to set Steve up with Tina. He ended up meeting Queenie as well. Both very nice girls. He hadn't quite connected them as sisters until later. ]
A lot quieter. The lack of traffic sounds is different.
[ He smiles to himself. ]
Also if I don't hear a jackhammer every four blocks I just get confused.
no subject
[Which is pretty much what they're both thinking. No matter what version. It's still New York. It has a soul and a feeling.]
You're telling me.
[Which sounds a might more flippant than Matt means it to be. He sends a grin in Steve's direction.]
This place is almost a world without white noise. I've been so used to the horns and engines, the crowd crush. By comparison it's a little empty here.
[And road construction? Why is it making him feel so damn homesick?]
But...here we are.
no subject
[ Mostly of urine. He's also aware that there's a lot more homeless since he was in his time. Which accounts for a lot of smells in and around there. A general rude youths. But he's not going to voice that. It'll make him sound really old. Mostly cause he'd say "youths". ]
Yeah. They got a little sound here and there depending on what building you're around, but it's just not the same.
[ The same being loud and obnoxious. ]
All the different kinds of food smells too. Eight Chinese food places stacked up on a block. Or pizza places. They got food here, but it's not as jam packed as back home.
no subject
[Except there is a fondness to his clear disgust. Matt appreciates that he doesn't have to explain himself. Steve just...gets it.]
It's going to take me forever to set my teeth on a pizza place. Or a taco stand. The beauty of a block with eight Chinese restaurants is that you can pick and choose depending on what dish or what kind. You like Chinese?