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networkinthenight2019-12-01 02:44 pm
inthenightmods) wrote in networkinthenight2019-12-01 02:44 pm
[ѧׄѵٜҒեҡٜהػһ] - WEEҎЯҝLY BUЀLωؗҹTIN - OPױҊ
WEEKLY BULLETIN
[This week, the bulletin opens with a video. It's been shot from a webcam that seems to be perched atop a computer screen, and in front of the screen is Robin, biting her lip as she types frantically. If she meant to start recording herself, she doesn't show it. A timestamp in the corner reads 17 NOV 03:02.
The room behind her is cozy, resembling the control deck of a battleship as redecorated by a teenage girl. That's essentially what it is, after all. The red beam of the lighthouse flares occasionally at the top of the screen.
Robin's harried typing continues for a few moments, uninterrupted, until a shadow slinks up from the staircase behind her. One by one, strings of fairy lights flicker out, the room going dark save for the glow of the screen. Robin finally notices just before the last of the lights die, her hands freezing on the keyboard, but she doesn't dare turn around, not yet.
This video comes with sound, and everyone's device's volume will crank to max volume to really emphasize Robin's shaky breaths as she listens, head tilting to glance over her shoulder at the darkness. The image flickers, crackling with static and distortion, until—]
Kë̥̟̝͇ͦ̈́̋— ee͍͔̺͔̖̕p— er͖̥͓͔̼̤͍—
[Robin whips around, her chair toppling over as she stands, but the video crackles again, and she's flung back against the desk. The computer screen crashes to the floor, taking the camera with it, and the feed stays focused on the floor for a long, long time. Eventually, it fades into static.
When it clicks back on again, the camera has been cocked up just enough to pull the room into view again. The timestamp in the corner reads 28 NOV 14:26.
Robin is slumped against the wall, filthy with blood and sweat, eyes glassy as she stares up at the forest spirit looming over her. The spirit cranes their head toward the camera, their eyes flashing green, and they wave to the viewers in a clumsy, jerking motion. Then, they drop something heavy and metallic in front of Robin, and she jumps at the sudden noise. It's a lantern, long broken and in pieces.
The forest spirit tips forward at the waist, bending down to press their face against Robin's as she whimpers and tries to keep still. They negotiate their forehead against hers, their green eyes flashing until she musters the courage to look up, and then they trill.
There's a scream, and the feed again cuts to static.]
anno҂ؼҘϷments
- I don't kԻӟϔυ what happen؇d. I'ӻԛ sorry. I think tϒйԷy're gone nэӽّw.
- I can't delete thώӾҊ video. I've tried, but they fucked up my computer aՓ׳սϗׅаҚ؞םӆѺs forcing me to post the video file with פӡӆe bulleֺЛԬn. A lot of stuкϗϊԥןټ֫ԓՙֳ٤Ёs broken. I'll nԬгd to fix it.
- ThԨЌґ ЬՉave me a lanшбҿٻӇٷա. I don't know whose מ֙طАϫ is. I need time to fiףУӊחѶЇϑӐٰЉՁׁٓӪ out.
- Use this bҪӸϲetin to regroup and share informatЫׇղԭ with each Ծ֔ther. ҬѮere's no point in keԖ֞я secrets.
- I'֑ҩё OK. Thөy ҁ֥ϘٶЭגӿӧױϐѲӢϥ.
Ԇ٣؏،ӂssifieds
- ѤךٓвҚխԴ־ӔщЅաҺѐϺӴϣҗԲՃԴѡҜӚԎ؋ӫӿоВϜ؎ՇӂىҺЄЪؽՁԫԵӏ٢ӼϘլ֏ҟӼЁׇٰ֫ՄτӅ֪ؑФҭҶؚزӹ؝Сֳ֜ԦؐӫգٶϚѾбϏצغْװ֩ئіϬ؇ϽϚυկؤӥіؓГՁؿأأԽԼҡٷաϤֽӋԟԂїӦѰבӬѦӰիҷϑ֟ӗכֽСнѻّׄҳخرՓԨٖҤϚϰн֙Щҍ՝Ծ֔ٶԫױձҭкؓљӟώӍҭصװٳزؙӱٮՎҊҬջйѫ֊ײؒυظԦְէٯӪմ؝ҬѮ٤֔նѫټՆρ֮كס٧ςГӷֆҪץԁԊպՉϑϣזѻӭ֎БӒٰт؏Ԋ٩ҪӸϲֈҾԁӂѤЂԳך֧ϮէӵءЫׇղԭљֶбҏ٬Ұ֝ՍשזԒӈبدЍ׃ϨІҖЄשѺϺϭы҆ҠԇϘӢѱхԶϻԳضҩДֹԳէ֝ђҮӱӬќѬϿқғϱХϟѥԍظмӕֿӃѥչټփֹҎЯҝץѭѢϤϩԖ֞яخ׳Іيӆ֞ԀՁֿόӚ٦ԎӔүՒ֕ӭل҈ёت֩қҒׯձмӉϘцӕϓ،ٶϯם֠ϞϡўϡѺժϽсϢӡսѶ֪њҺӝٰԃϨٗإϢ֥ҍ؟ԲҧϜٲҎЖ؟ӒҗԹЊӫԗӰֹكϾ֎յِרϦϞׂԢЁ؟ӴРיسմһϡϺӘӃҎЀҎӑЪϲϨը֞צЊ՝խՅ҅тغќԆתςءҶّֈϣԃ֑ٗВҗԺٯ״ؤԭюҧؗـׇ٘ռրתսؿҌӜנՌӟӔز֬Ը٠ЍИ֑Ѡ١ІآԒتҪ٫ҩمѾѳ؇ٖ׳ӑϴҾرҭА֪ӗү֩ԮЍҁҎыҁԛٶдԁѥՎмҷ؆ӖٸҲϦԣَϗԯѤآԤϕ֊ؿг؆ϬҢڀԽϬўύϭӣч؈ՒԖצԨבЂ٦הԿҊтջϥחїپԪֱѱյҽҮٞӀяЮёֳ֒٧ӴҵύԗԯϴԮ٧Հϴբր٥؋ӧ՛קש؋
- ؋ԟϮԌض٤Ҿ֡֟ԦՊיԕИҴрٮֺՄϳ׃סՅа֤ԝװٽعєҠфպيӒ֞ԵՋُ֩ҧԵِѿףԸУҿהӾӈӑגؕٙӫնП՚ٛ٤ةгһѳҌСϦ֍شԱԅѲح؎ѷԨٲدֶؕдЅ֞ٞҠزыјԔҠوԜѺ֛ՄҸתиЪϧӉյгѲԧ֒ڀՂҸЍӳДظѢϬҶԖԞԨҠٗوضՐЂЯҲϷԵҴҖԻ׀ԑҬФ؝҅ҏ؋ґԔصфѬծշ֪֪҅ؔپњҼЙփҩױҊѺρωؗҹ،ٝсКӧؖբϙֲٖٞҁϋؓҧёׅԏ֙ػԂԩԳϣِؤӫ֬тϚЄׁؼӉҹׁսٜѲاԕӱ֮ҘֽҸѠҦѫפӡիمГמՐٱЃ҃եӵыгԘӽҶϹЎֈׯչϑـּ٫մՆӷؕаєثزӬҜϽٺؒϗТѳѤРы֖ؽӶϞѦϻӺոאӕҡٜהػһӹפԷЊӼԯչժӌԋЉٜϷҬپضһלЁӂѮѿѲҲؾѽԤИԠЎеַٛҹشҲ֬ӱ؊ҒծҪцְՅײӰوҕ؝؛ӍدԎԵج֙ԯҀԸحгҳ׆
- Н؉ؙЀٴճֹ׃Ϝتѫيָ׃ֲَѕ֖رպҀԳՖϜϷ՞ؔ֎֞յЈًӟҪيמԃѿ֡Ս٘ϕў؈֬ѧׄѵٜҒեЀЊϓπюֈպմӴքدѧֺϹӠՊՔٔҫЎبؓбئן
- Ѩ֞ظωϾסѷտќЁГպՇӑוϟϑҲӾقֹץեӹֹأϸ٣м؈Տթ՞ϜثاωӘؑюԄյӪҦ҇БԚеֹ҅הԈϕڀزאԾФװԗӿՅϠٲсեЌصэϾЬ֗Իςל֣Ճгӣό҅Ө׳ԏѤщ،ӜՄҲׂ֫ӘٿϬҠذчҜϓҋҬѭϕآЅ؍ؖՓ֖ٵӼքϪӇՖٚϏԊшϘӏ؛גٝךؘנѐҙԙҬֻلҗыՖ։ϨАТؘѸҏЃؚ՛ӅնϑӭԌьӕاն֑լׅҎЈϵгةؿҢҎ֊սϾӷԸ҂ك҅؟ԀЅѶ׃ЎԠъԢόКׇЄ҆٘ϜךثضՔԩո֟џأՑՌלٟ֯ѣբҶԡּ֦թҴϝԓӆӎئџНפҍ֏֤ԫԘ٫ѿՠқ֒ӥӭйٞѓӵԻϢѐχԕҕϋփτёЭӉצרןӗ٢ЉҞՂѭϤ֭ѿپӮփԶԈٳѴӇكքԄ٠ѿٙր֎ҸմٔҖϲПӉֲЏа֗Ԑӥصَ҇ѩѴҳהТҤժؔԝӝҤ҅ղَ֚ӼַՅثس֬رמբԹٔդԹϷسҿԇՎЖՔРٳЄٷАѧӚІՊ։١Ҧҥ҄דϦ֠Մ՞Кԏ֙ثئлמջֽ٫֙ׯپϡѬֲӏԿЦոлֺٚӢٽҥֽ؏ՀңөҴҙӷր٭سՕ֙Қ֙ћٳӍ՟ЧӽقѩתئجψЗլӽ֢҃ؖϼѾҮֱԍԑүїטҋؙٜԯրֲҌѭхРӺ֜ѓٞюϭӼԉױѢ٦ъҲմϳ֘϶ՇԏπٸϿϬДց٦уֱҼ֫ѯծЬҰϡЦӠգҜדْנЛՁгיёҝ֖ٸЙҷ؏ЗҽМٲЬթώԧؾԇҍҬؗٯԩֵ֦ԺئӿӰ֕ԝԷԦϗӰԟ׆շϋҌ؟ثЛւԾوϺғӍѵվԂԱѤѶҚԘٕЗغԺّٞԷҮѓټײ֞ӑ٨ٞЂ֪Ёא֓ՀخԞԊќӳӄώԱח׳ѡՀ҄ذمѳؠҾѹ״ٻϲбԦҾؽٹҦ׀ҸՀϯԪվעՉӸӮցϻҙϜхتӚϨրԈ҉Ӣԛ֧ѷϳҠѮԯ״ҘӗђقטעѾ՜ϿԣϊӇ֍֚֔ϯًЈώ֊ԴԩפЗԖҳٟդϟҌѧԾԕрٟѹҼնӼѩӛЏЛϾֳ֞ДМѽٗσӽӑғӑҏԐϨѠםтӯ،Ͻчի٩הәӨ҄֬ϻԭٙФҦѼђЇضҞѺֻҊϻԸѹҔ֊ՙѮչآםӟӽٳ
- If yԭҹրгϛЍֺԹС to subҼظԘt an advertisement, חոϙӣҞՐ҇ՑԧғτӸВѫ϶se drop them bׂѤ؛טҗӐѝըϠӚكՎϛӫ٫ٚոճحПֹЃРؾϔӽ־Ӎice.
oٌՎطد҆ёװғԟ٢Ӷֶَճؑաӏries
- Jչآם Gordon
- Hermione Gӟӽٳnger
- GriҊϻz Visser
- VaniҔ֊ՙas
- Bucky BѺֻԸѹs
- DaҰϡina Clairӭ
- Nyx UlrФ؝҅
- XayЁh
- There miѧӚt be more. WІՊ։١Ҧe still ԇՎЖՔРٳЄٷАѧӚІՊ։١ bodies.
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no subject
all of that said and done though: peter's not really got a plan. if this were anywhere else, he's not sure he'd even really need one beyond 'okay, suit up, go find the thing, web the thing, go home'. the issue here is that going and finding the thing means opening the town up for further attacks which is absolutely the last thing he wants.
(does "complicated" begin to cover it?)
it's slightly different, too, to having spoken with someone over the network and made sure they're okay (by a definition of the word okay) and actually seeing them. two weeks of being attacked and looking out for other people — it's not something everyone has experience with and even if they have, it's not something that's not going to take a toll.
a moment passes then, and he gives quentin a quick once over, before: ] So I think I'm about to get a complex over going to parties. [ beat. ] What supplies did you need, by the way?
no subject
[It's said as Quentin steps closer, head tilted and after nodding at Peter, he turns his eyes at the docks, the ferry approaching and the few townspeople who've dared to venture out this soon after.
Maybe they're all a little stupid. Taking too many risks. Maybe too used to it from before?
There's no easy answer to any of that, so Quentin turns his attention back to Peter and the issue at hand.]
Just the basics. Food, water, bandages. Alcohol. Not much, though. I think most of the people at the armory are itching to get-- out. [Quentin stops himself just in time, because the word he almost said was 'home'. But that's not here, might never be here no matter how long they all spend here, because it can be pulled form them at any second.] Most are fine. But Robin-- you went out there before, didn't you?
[Most of his nervous ticks are under wraps, buried deep down as long as he's in fight-or-flight mode. Still on high alert and too exhausted to care much either way. Not the weary, emotional state that Peter saw him in just last month when he came knocking on his door, but bone-deep tired and still fighting because that's all that's keeping him from sleeping for a few days straight.]
We can't leave her out there alone.
no subject
he'd not think about it, but that's not exactly him, so he's going to park it to one side for now and come back to it later. the question quentin asks about going out to the lighthouse serves as a suitable enough distraction, though not an entirely pleasant one. he pauses just long enough to take a breath, attention shifting away from quentin and out towards the water, then back again. ]
Yeah. To hook Robin back up to the network. [ beat; he rubs a hand against his brow. ] It was just a case of hooking up some wires, but we got attacked — there and in the town. We didn't know how bad it was until we got back. [ another pause, and the corners of his lips quirk downwards, just momentarily. ] Kinda like this, actually.
[ he doesn't think he needs to point out that he agrees with quentin regarding leaving robin out there alone. privately though, he's kind of surprised — after everything, he thought quentin, if not hated, at least strongly disliked her. ]
no subject
How long and how short two weeks can feel. And is it really over? Quentin can't help looking at the treeline, expecting something to sneak up behind them or just fly down to take a piece of one of them.
Or maybe they're waiting. For the new people, the ones without weapons or knowledge, to step off the ferry that's making its way slowly towards the docks. They're weren't clever on a human scale, but the spirits were smarter than most animals. Hunting in pacts and sending in the weaker ones first.
They might be out there, right now, watching everything they did. Every move and every person.
Quentin clears his throat and blinks, eyes on Peter when he's not cutting tiny glances at the trees.]
Wait. When you, the group, went to the lighthouse, the spirits attacked the town? Why? Because-- because it was defenseless. Or closer to it than with everyone in it. This could happen again.
[Might very well happen again, if the attack was the spirits warning them off. If only they hadn't just been under attack for weeks, with everyone ready for it, it might have been possible. But now? Half the town is boarded up, people died and those who didn't, didn't escape unscratched.
On the other hand, Robin was on her own in the lighthouse. Beaten and bloody and looking like crap on the video. And she'd been kind, even after Quentin had yelled and vented his impotent anger and helpless fear at her, she had still been kind. And funny. And she liked fantasy books.]
We need a better plan than just going. We need someone here to stand guard and keep the spirits out, get everyone back in to the secure locations and armed.
no subject
No, [ he answers, glancing sideways at quentin. ] Officially, the spirits protect the lighthouse. Robin wasn't really sure what made them go off as much as they did, but they viewed us — all of us — as a threat to the lighthouse. [ he pauses. ] At the time, it seemed to make sense: the Captain said it was going to be a risky trip, the guys back here threw a party with the spirits to try and show them we didn't mean any harm, but now—.
I'm not so sure. What if there was more to it than that? [ it's not a question he really expects an answer to: they don't know enough about any of this to have an answer. ] But the long and the short of it is that if they are protective about the lighthouse, for whatever reason, going would only get us a repeat of what you've just been through and—. [ peter inhales and glances up at the sky before continuing. ]
We can't leave her there alone, but we can't risk everyone else. [ he holds out his hands. it's not often that he doesn't know what to do. any other day, the decision would be simple and they'd do what quentin's suggesting — but he also knows it's not that simple. they'd still be knowingly asking people to risk their lives and potentially die, all for one person. that's not something everyone would want to sign up for, and there isn't anywhere that they can guarantee safety from the spirits. ] How safe was the armory?
no subject
There was a riddle once, about getting a camel through the eye of a needle, or through a keyhole, Quentin can't remember it all the way, just that the solution had seemed like a cheap cop out and that Sherlock's, or was it House MD, who said "Eliminate all other factors, and the one which remains must be the truth" was deceptively plain.
He'd always imagined it was about the magical, that sometimes the solution would be so clever, so magical, that you'd have to believe because what else was left? But more often than not, it meant accepting that sometimes there just isn't a ready solution or that the solution was as simple as to do nothing.]
We can't not go, but we can't go? How is that-- that's. Do you have any ideas? Because I think I'm fresh out and my only plan was pretty much just riding the bike up there.