bluesuit_handy: (.misc | sneaky)
[personal profile] bluesuit_handy
This is probably not a bad thing he's doing, Andrew rationalizes. Yes, they twisted his arm a bit with all that stuff about having put together the pieces and worked out that he'd let the Rebels register him. No, he's not impressed by ROMAC's line about 'only' wanting him to prove his loyalty by putting his connections in the other organization to use. He's hardly fit to be up and about yet, let alone tottering out into the world in search of missing persons, so at the very least they're being terribly negligent about their choice of field agents.

Still, the missing person in question is a missing child, and he'd hardly be doing any harm just by checking it out, would he? The name had rung a bell, but it took him a while to remember just where he'd heard about a Melanie formerly of ROMAC...and just where he could expect to find her now. If he trusted ROMAC to be telling him the full story he could simply tell them what Daniel had told him in a dream, but he doesn't and so he didn't. He knows she was taken away from ROMAC under mysterious circumstances and he knows that she was under quarantine before that (it's not entirely clear whether he's meant to believe that was for her benefit of that of others), but he doesn't know why and he's well aware that he doesn't know how she feels about all this. His assignment is to simply find where she's being 'held' and report back, but he's rather more inclined to have a chat with her and/or this Aziraphale person and then either bring her back himself or cover his tracks and do a song and dance to convince ROMAC he gave it the old college try.

It's not so very difficult to locate the relevant apartment within the building, though each person he has to ask about it is a person too many. Luckily he hasn't run into anyone who knows him well enough to make anything of his sudden reappearance around Rebel-Land, but all the same he doesn't care to linger longer than he has to. He spares a quick glance up and down the hallway, then knocks briskly on the door, bracing himself to shoulder his way in should the door actually be opened.
andhiswife: (recovering herself)
[personal profile] andhiswife
All right. Greta Baker knows what she needs to do. Good.

But of course it can't be easy, finding your way through the Woods. Which direction had she come from? One gnarled, ancient tree looks much like the other, and she hadn't left a trail. Maybe she should have, but she hadn't anticipated getting turned around quite so… thoroughly.

She's still trying to puzzle out which way to go when the first footstep falls. By the second (much closer) one, she decides which way doesn't matter as much as to go. It's the third or fourth earth-shattering impact that really knocks her off balance. She gropes for a branch on which to steady herself and misses by a fair margin. Her body is surprised by the error, her lungs sucking in a startled gasp of air, but what she thinks is an exasperated: well, that was foolish. She wasn't even close.

And then she's falling, absurdly, as if she doesn't have so many better and more important things to do (find the boy, join the group, stop the giant, get out of the Woods). One hundred and seventy-four paces, wasn't it? She mustn't lose count, but maybe it doesn't matter, because the count will be different by the time she lands. How many paces is she falling?

It looks like quite a few.

Everything stretches. Something snaps. The air is driven from her lungs. She tumbles down a gentle incline of leaf litter and twigs and green young growth, and finally somersaults to a halt near a large, bald patch of stone.

What was that?

A few leaves have got into her hair, and she scrapes them aside as she catches her breath. The air feels thick and heavy, but not in the cool, still way it had been in the Woods. It's hot, and it's humid, and there's a sound like a great, rushing wind. She scrambles inelegantly into the boulder's shadow, her eyes roving over the too-thin tree cover. It must have passed through here, must have torn up the trees as easily as pulling weeds in a garden, leaving only a fraction of the canopy behind.

Pressing her back against the cool stone, Greta scans the sky for giants.
bluesuit_handy: (.misc | behind a plant)
[personal profile] bluesuit_handy
Andrew deliberately left his message to Daine nonspecific, and is somewhat grateful that she proved amenable enough to an unexpected lunch that he didn't need to start hinting that there's something behind it beyond a mere desire for company. He wonders if she or anyone else has noticed that the flat he shares with James has been devoid of life for days now. Their neighbors at least didn't witness the noise and confusion that started it all, but that's only because a bunch of shoppers at Macy's did instead.

He has to comfort himself with the knowledge that James is alright now, all back in one piece and looking like he'll finally be able to stay that way again. Of course, the only reason that's the case is because James is now a 'guest' of ROMAC, ensconced in a decent little apartment at their base now equipped with a field that suppresses his (and Andrew's powers). It's a step up from the high-security cell he (and particularly the Master part of him) started in, but he's no more free to leave now than when he was locked up. The only difference is that now they've acknowledged that he's intelligent enough to keep himself prisoner.

It's all very upsetting, really, and Andrew is keenly aware that their claim to have been completely ignorant of the existence of either faction until now won't bear up under very close scrutiny. ROMAC must already be suspicious, he knows; he had to bypass an attempt to monitor his phone when he messaged Daine. Neither the rebels nor ROMAC can know that he and James are now registered with both factions, but friends should know why they've disappeared.

That, and he'd like to have something other than cafeteria food to eat and to bring back to James. There's more than one advantage to setting his meeting with Daine elsewhere than the park.

He steps into the cool air of the pub and allows himself to be directed to a booth shortly before 1:00, sighing as he sits down and tries to get comfortable. As he looks over his menu, waiting for Daine's arrival, he keeps a casual eye on the other diners, watching for anyone who might be paying too much attention.


[OOC: This thread follows the offscreen events described here.]
apidae: (sweetheart)
[personal profile] apidae
[[ooc: It's beehive time! Bee is gonna be up on the Rebel apartment roof most of the day, hangin out, and she'll be sending an open text to all the Rebels (and some other friends) about it, inviting people to come join her. The first thread is gonna be Daine helping her set up, but after that feel free to drop by!]]

Everything has to be perfect.

Bee's got the boxes stacked nicely, all ready for their new inhabitants, with a couple rows of box flowers and a beautiful little water garden she'd been lucky enough to find in her eager search for supplies. Not a completed project yet, but it's a lovely start. And thank goodness the rain has stopped; she can be out here all day, in this beautiful weather, until the sun goes down even—and then, fireworks! She grins at the thought of it. She hopes people will join her.

Nearby there's a broad umbrella with some thrift-store cushions underneath, a shady little sitting area, just temporary before she can get something nicer set up. Snacks and a cooler with water, sodas and beer. She's not anticipating a party or even that many visitors - as excited as she is, she knows not everyone is eager to come be around a bunch of bees. But hopefully at least a few of her new friends will be interested enough to take a peek.

For now, she stands near the edge of the building, the wind whipping around her hair and her dress and the netted veil of her homemade protective hat (she has no suit, but she's not overly concerned), watching the sky, waiting for Daine, and her new darlings.
bluesuit_handy: (.misc | park)
[personal profile] bluesuit_handy
Andrew has been postponing contact with the TARDIS in the hope that she'll contact him, but it's becoming more and more obvious that that hope is in vain. There's the not so small matter of his growing bashfulness re: going outside, too; he's rapidly gotten big enough that he can no longer hide the bulge of his belly. None of his regular clothing fits, he feels heavy and unnatural, and the clinic has confirmed that he's not just imagining that things are going much faster than they should.

This morning, though, he's going stir-crazy just thinking about hanging around the flat yet another day. The rain offers an opportunity to cover up with a long raincoat, too; summer clothing normally doesn't afford a lot in the way of layering to help mask his changing shape. A kiss and an explanation for James later, he heads off to the park via the subway, opting not to send the TARDIS a message to let her know he's on his way lest he give her the opportunity to tell him not to come. At least if she detects him on the way and sends him a message he can pretend not to receive it until he's already there.

It's harder than he remembered to find her in the park, but eventually he arrives at her doors bedraggled from the weather and trying to convince himself that he's here primarily because of his concerns about Zagreus's activities and that recent angel spotting nearby, not because he's hurt that she never contacts him. Andrew knocks politely before trying the door even though he knows she'll have seen him coming for a while. "Let me in, I'm wet!" he calls as if it weren't his own fault.


[OOC: Not sure if this is going to be just Andrew and the TARDIS or nooooot; should have asked around before now probs.]
bluesuit_handy: (.serious | arms crossed)
[personal profile] bluesuit_handy
The news about what the rebels have been up to is disquieting, as well as more of a surprise than it ought to have been. Andrew -- or rather, the Doctor -- has certainly encountered enough pairs of opposing factions to know that the enemy of one's enemy is not necessarily one's friend. All the same, he'd let himself get lulled into complacency when it came to the rebels by the friendly face the organization puts on and by their thus far fair treatment of himself, James, and the other rifties he knows who live in the base.

Cutting ties with the organization is easier said than done when one has a permanent residence in a city one cannot leave. It's only common sense, though, that they're certainly not going to keep going to the rebels for medical care. Word of mouth has informed them of a neutral clinic in town and it's to there that Andrew and James resolve to find a doctor to will see them through Andrew's pregnancy. Today's appointment is meant to be just a checkup with a side of meet and greet to familiarize the new doctor with Andrew's unique situation, but there's also some niggling doubt in Andrew's mind. He can't pinpoint the conception date, of course, and he's still not sure what his time split in twain did to his bodily processes, but it seems to him that he's fatter, sooner, than he should be. He at least doesn't feel like vomiting all the time anymore, but it's been replaced by an urge to nap.

"I'm going to be a blimp," he says to James as they step inside the front door. To an outside eye he still looks rail thin, but Andrew knows better. These trousers are a size up from his usual and he doesn't like it one bit, thank you very much. Only half joking, he adds, "And I hope you realize it's your fault."
bluesuit_handy: (.serious | determined | squinty)
[personal profile] bluesuit_handy
Andrew's unease about his pregnancy has not abated despite James's best efforts to comfort him. Multiple scans have conclusively shown that he is not, in fact, falling apart on a cellular level, and furthermore that he does, in fact, possess the internal structures necessary to carrying a baby. On the other hand, he feels terrible all the time and a male, half-Time Lord pregnancy is -- much like a meta-crisis in general -- a medical mystery. He's been reading up on human pregnancy, which has mostly convinced him that he's in for nine months of pain and bloating. Lately, too, his trousers have started to feel tight, which can't be right at only five weeks in.

Getting out and walking seems to help with the sickness and the general malaise, so today he's set himself the goal of making it to and from the library without calling a cab despite the feeling that he'd really rather take a nap, eat some ice cream, and watch five hours of cartoons. The first half of the operation has been a resounding success thanks in part to automated check-out stands that don't ask questions or make comments about his stack of classic sci fi, trashy romance, and books on pregnancy.

Fruits of his labor in a canvas bag, Andrew slips out the library doors and points his nose toward home. He yawns and rubs his eyes as he goes, ready for a sit down but not sure he'll be willing to get back up once he does. His stomach is starting to act up, too, and less than half a block on his way he pauses and leans against a building, wrapping his free hand around his gut and willing it to pass. The wave of nausea only intensifies, though, and he grits his teeth and looks around for a trash can. He does hear the creak and crunch above him that signifies something more than a little important, but doesn't succeed in separating it from the general noise of the city.
bluesuit_handy: (.misc | behind bars)
[personal profile] bluesuit_handy
As soon as he knew his smaller self was alive, Andrew knew that being separated from himself for as long as he had would make recombination difficult. While his ability to resolve dissonant memories has improved since he first gained his power, he'd never been split for more than a few hours before now. Now, though...it had been a month between the time he'd been lost and when he regained contact with himself and was rescued from the Master's clutches. Andrew had been understandably ruffled about how long it had taken for someone to work out where he was and do something about it. Andrew, on the other hand, was simply relieved that the Master hadn't done anything worse to him than to treat him like an unusually chatty hamster.

He both agreed, despite the very strong urge to become whole as soon as possible, to make his way home before attempting to reabsorb himself. He was right to be cautious -- a month's worth of double memories was enough to literally lay him out on the couch for the rest of the afternoon, and for more than a week afterward he went around calling himself "we" and bickering with himself aloud in a way that had previously been reserved for when there were actually more than one of him. In short, he had not been well, and suddenly being walloped with morning sickness (and afternoon sickness, and evening sickness) really hadn't helped matters. There had been a lot of arguing back and forth -- could it be called back and forth when he provided both sides? -- about the impossibility of the pregnancy, Andrew growing more and more cross with Andrew over his refusal to accept what he'd been told by the TARDIS herself now via the Doctor. Andrew hadn't been there, of course; he'd been locked up in a hamster cage, blissfully ignorant of what Andrew was going through. Andrew contended that Andrew was just being dramatic and internalizing stress now that they were having trouble reintegrating, to Andrew's frustration.

Fortunately for Andrew (not to mention James, who has to live with him), the mental split wasn't permanent. Gradually the lines have blurred and the arguments have died down as it becomes harder to separate which of him thinks what, and then as it becomes less important to even try to remember in those terms. By now he's stopped referring to himself in the plural, but the sickness continues and he just feels bad in general, all bloated and tender. Finally, he gives in and contacts the rebels to ask what they've got in the way of medical professionals. The TARDIS could scan him and tell him if anything's wrong -- has done already -- but she apparently didn't see fit to tell him what was going on in his own body, and he's embarrassed to appeal to the Doctor for help. This is new to him, a process he only ever observed obliquely and with vague, detached curiosity when he saw it done by humans, and his body is already misbehaving badly enough to really worry him.

The rebels, it turns out, have one doctor qualified as an ob-gyn. There's no equipment to run an ultrasound, but Andrew dutifully turned up this morning to meet her and demand a scrip for something to deal with the nausea. The exam, brief as it was, was profoundly awkward and uncomfortable for both of them, and mainly confirmed what he'd already known: that there's no place for a baby to come out of him. No place for one to be put in him, either, but apparently that hasn't stopped James from somehow doing it anyway. That means surgery, which means a long string of other complications, which means a very moody Andrew as he takes advantage of a lull in his digestive woes to have a bit of lunch in the base cafeteria.
has_a_horn: (taking you to school)
[personal profile] has_a_horn


There's something new about the city this afternoon. It's not particularly hard to miss. At about noon, a giant scaled figure emerges from the Hudson River, emits a loud screeching roar, and heads for central park.

It's Godzilla, straight out of the 1954 Toho film.

Or, rather, that's what it looks like. Gabriel has a scheme, and this scheme involves in-fluxing a little bit of fun into this city with a grand-scale illusion. His idea of fun might need some work, by human standards, but this is exactly the thing for him at the moment. There are news reports on the radio and television, both in English and in Japanese, but they aren't given by any newscasters anyone in New York might be familiar with, because Gabriel is projecting them.

As Godzilla shakes the water off it's back and walks onto the island, Gabriel pulls out his phone and texts Peter. He really needs him involved with this.

[ooc: Godzilla will make his way across the city, having a good smash. Feel free to run into it anywhere. As this is Gabe's illusion, any interactions with Godzilla will be controlled by Gabriel, even if he's not nearby. People Gabriel doesn't like might want to avoid getting underfoot, or else they'll feel the bone crunching effects of being stepped on, even if nothing has actually happened.]
bluesuit_handy: (.misc | teleport tinkering)
[personal profile] bluesuit_handy
This is getting bloody ridiculous.

No, scratch that, this was ridiculous from the start; it was only that Andrew was more than a little preoccupied by fearing for his life for the first few days of his captivity. The longer he remains in the Master's TARDIS the less likely it seems the Time Lord will kill him. A tiny frenemy is a source of entertainment, after all, and the impression Andrew's getting is that the Master is nearly as bored with being stuck here as he is. What worries him is that he's getting used to functioning at this size, and getting used to the Master being his only company. He prides himself that he's at least refusing to get used to the cage, but in a twisted way he keeps seeing traces of James in the Master's actions. There's no give and take here, though, none of the consideration for Andrew's needs.

He's kept his mouth shut about everything he can, keeping James and the rest of the Andrews (who probably re-combined ages ago now) a secret. Bad enough he's here without tipping the Master off that there are more duplicates he might collect. Andrew regrets now his failure to heed the TARDIS's warning...and wonders if anyone has even the slightest idea where he is. He has to assume they don't, naturally, which is why he's been working on ways to get out of the cage near constantly. At the moment he's taking advantage of the Master's absence to try to slide the cage door off its hinges. It's a losing battle, as he'd probably have to bend a few bars to do it and doesn't have the necessary strength, but attacking the lock and various other potential avenues of escape has not worked thus far. Andrew is so busy, as a matter of fact, that he doesn't even notice the arrival of an angora bunny elsewhere in the room.
bluesuit_handy: (.misc | park)
[personal profile] bluesuit_handy
After his communications with the Doctor, Andrew catches the next train up from Chelsea, arriving what seemed like a long time later at the doors of the TARDIS. He raps smartly on a wooden panel, though he knows it's unnecessary, and stands back expectantly.

When he awoke this morning, it took him a while to recall all the events of the dream he'd had the night before. In a past life he might have dismissed the dream, or at least been more inclined to doubt it. Here, though, where shared dreaming takes place every week and a half, almost like clockwork...well. That his smaller self would appear to him in a dream isn't all that implausible, really. As soon as the memories fell into place and he talked himself into believing it had really happened, he knew he couldn't do this on his own. As much as it pains him to seek help from his progenitor, he isn't stupid, and he knows full well that assaulting the Master's TARDIS (assuming he can even find it) would likely result in the Master possessing two Andrews.

As for the other matter that has troubled him in recent weeks, Andrew has finally all but put it out of his mind. Since Daine's proclamation, there's been no sign whatsoever that her ludicrous claims were correct. No morning sickness, no mood swings -- well, alright, mood swings, but that's just him -- no growing belly. Nothing. And really, doesn't he have enough to worry about without adding an imaginary, biologically impossible pregnancy?
stronglikebear: (misc | bad taste)
[personal profile] stronglikebear
Here he is again. This is going to be a bad one, of that Yuri is sure. Of course, he believes every month is going to be a bad one -- and he's pretty much always right -- but he's been on edge for days and knows that today is going to be a long, long day. He's been up all night, which hasn't helped a bit with the general crankiness and anxiety, but wistful thoughts of his bed are countered easily enough by the desire to be as worn out and sleepy as possible once the transformation comes. It's going to be a daytime full moon, which somehow makes it feel like the universe is picking on him. He's looking at over fourteen hours in the cage, from a little after five in the morning probably until past eight at night.

Last month had been partly during daylight hours, too, and last month he'd gone stir crazy. There had been complaints (or at least worried comments) about strange noises from a handful of people who had wandered closer to the locked corridor leading to his cage than he liked, and Yuri had bloodied his nose and torn a paw pad in his irritation at being shut in while the whole world was awake and waiting to be chased about.

Relations with Daine have been strained for a long time, but it's not like he didn't end up dragging her into things last month anyway when he fell asleep as a bear and invaded her dreams. It's been made pretty clear to him by the higher-ups that he's not to have anyone in the room with the cage while he's a bear after what happened with Edgar...which is why he didn't discuss today's plans with the higher-ups. Kuiv can (and has been) talked into turning a blind eye, if only because he's promised he'll do his best to let Daine shut him up and stop him making so much noise.

He slips into the cell before dawn, a little over half an hour before the shift is expected to take hold. There's the usual rigmarole of stripping down, wrapping himself in a ragged blanket, and leaving his clothing outside the cage, and then there's really nothing to do except wait for Daine...and for the bear.
jennifer_strange: (neutral - gentle)
[personal profile] jennifer_strange
Jennifer's neighbors will probably never get used to the Quarkbeast. Those fortunate enough to actually have seen the creature in all of his scaly glory tend to, at the very least, plaster themselves to the wall as she passes by. On the bright side, her only other semi-public idiosyncrasy is so mild by comparison that no one minds it in the least... even though she is the only person on this floor who knocks on her own door before unlocking it and heading inside.

It's only fair to give Aglet some warning. He usually manages to be back on his shelf by the time she steps inside, especially when she's come back from walking the Beast or some other errand the timing of which can be roughly judged, but she's well aware that he spends at least some of his alone time sneaking around the flat and nicking whatever he can get his little hands on.

The first time she caught him in the act, he'd actually been on the floor (on his way back from a successful trip to the kitchen, judging by the sugar cube that had clattered out of his bag when he dropped it in his surprise). She'd found it more amusing than annoying, but his terror at suddenly finding himself within easy reach of the Beast had been so great that she'd taken pity on him - and taken to knocking.

While she waits for Aglet to do any necessary scrambling for cover, she lifts the flap over her bag's outermost pocket to look in on her new friend. "How was the ride?" she asks the little Handrew. She'd tried not to jostle him, but that doesn't mean she was all that successful from his perspective.
ethanrichards: (Default)
[personal profile] ethanrichards
When Ethan falls through the rift, it's barely noticable to him. Same time, say day, same place. Different universe.

It's near midnight at a bar in Chelsea, and he wakes up suddenly, sat alone in a both near the back. He must've dozed off for a second. He didn't think he was that tired, to be honest, but apparently he was wrong. His friends aren't there-- maybe they went out for a smoke and didn't want to disturb him?

Ethan gives a stretch, slips out of the booth, and heads outside. They're not there either, but it's not like them to ditch him. He looks at his phone, but it says his sim card is invalid. Well, that's helpful. He closes his leather jacket, deliberating for a second, before he decides to just head home and go to bed, if he really is that tired (though he doesn't really feel it). He can catch up with them later.

It's only a couple blocks to his place, and the fresh (if still rather cold) air is nice. Someone's just leaving when he reaches the building, so he doesn't even need to unlock the door to the stairwell. Not someone he recognises though, must be someone visiting.

However, when he gets to the door of his apartment, his key doesn't fit. And then he notices the name on the door. It's not his. He stares for a few seconds. Must've gotten the wrong floor - he really is out of it. He heads up one floor, but that's not his flat either. And the one above that is the top floor, and he knows that's not his. He heads downstairs again. He checks the flat below. Then he heads back up to the one that should be his and he knocks on the door, getting more and more frustrated and worried. There's no answer.

Pay phone. Half of the payphones in New York still work, so it doesn't take him too long to find out. He ignores the time machine gimmick they're doing this month, and dials the number to one of his bandmates he was just having a drink with. The number's disconnected. He tries another friend. After about half an hour, he's gone through every number stored on his phone, even his parents' house. The numbers are mostly dead, or he gets connected to pizza places that are open this late, or voicemails of people or shops that aren't.

He leans his forehead against the cold metal of the phone, trying to convince himself he's not going crazy. This is... some elaborate prank or something. April fools? No, that's almost a week ago.

Taking a deep breath, he tries to decide what to do next. Well, he can't stand around on the street all night. And he's not very keen on heading to the police station for help. There's a 24-hour pizza place nearby, he'll go there, get some food, sit, think.

Walking briskly, he's there in no time and he orders a slice of pepperoni pizza and a glass of coke. He tries to use a credit card to pay, but it won't go through, so he pays in cash -- at least he's got a fair bit on him. His appetite hadn't been particularly intense, but the smell helps, so he takes a booth and eats while he goes through the contents of his pockets. Wallet with driver's license and two credit cards (neither work), a few guitar picks, some business cards, condoms, and $180 in cash. A pocket notebook with a lot of scribbled lyrics and a pen. Smartphone (75% battery, but no service). His iPod (82% battery). A pack of gum.

He ends up sitting there all night, and most of the morning, buying another slice or a drink or a bag of chips whenever the owners start giving him stink-eye. Thankfully it's not crowded enough for them to decide to kick him out. When morning comes, he goes out and buys a paper, before heading back. Nothing weird in it. Date's right, no freaky occurences, no mention of a city-wide prank or anything.

So Ethan just continues sitting there, occasionally listening to music, occasionally scribbling down lyrics (all crap or crazy-sounding), occasionally eating, but overall mostly worrying and trying to avoid having a mental breakdown.
bluesuit_handy: (.surprised | you have to be kidding)
[personal profile] bluesuit_handy
Andrew is snooping, but he's not getting very far with it. The trouble with absurdly powerful, government-sanctioned entities is that getting inside the base of such an organization tends to be a bit more complicated than showing up with a forged Health and Safety ID card. Of course, he could probably get inside very easily if he simply went up to the front doors and announced himself, but somehow he doubts he'd be likely to come back out without making a grand production of escaping, and he doesn't want to be too late coming home and make James worry.

The other trouble with Romac is that they're too smart to have anything interesting going on outside. After quite a bit of loitering -- more loitering than is probably wise -- all Andrew's seen is fairly ordinary people going in and out of the building. Disgruntled at their failure to be even the least bit interesting, Andrew finally gives up in disgust and decides to walk to the rebel base in order to say hello to a few people and use their private library.

He makes it less than halfway to the park before disaster strikes. Later, Handrew will be mortally embarrassed that the crisis didn't come about because some Romac agent spotted him and decided to make trouble, or because he had to run to intercept an alien, or even because someone got it in their head to mug him. No, this disaster occurs simply because neither Andrew nor a certain speeding taxi driver happens to be looking in the right direction at the right time. As the meta-crisis steps out into the intersection of Lexington and 59th (against right of way, if he'd bothered to notice), there's a deafening screech, an impact, and Andrew quite unexpectedly shatters.

The reflex to use his power when surprised likely saves his life. Twelve tiny Andrews are scattered across the road a moment later, all of them stunned to one degree or another. As they recover and realize what's happened -- and hear the yells of a few people who saw -- they all take the same course of action:

Run.

Unfortunately, very few of them run in the same direction. There's no plan or pattern to it, and very quickly the Andrews scatter to the four winds -- or at least to the four corners of the intersection. There are a few shouts (even New Yorkers tend to notice when someone explodes next to them) and one person even stoops and tries to grab one of the four-inch-tall Andrews, but he has quite a bit of experience in running for cover.


[OOC: Let me know where you want to encounter one or more Andrews, and I will write up an explanation of how he got there. The accident occurred at E. 59th St. and Lexington Ave. (the game map might help you here), and the Andrews have gone in every direction. Some Andrews will take advantage of the nearby subway entrances; depending where he enters he could do as he intends and go northwest, or he could get on the wrong train and go northeast, which would take him past Romac housing. Really, anything is possible -- though he's trying to get to either the Rebels or the TARDIS, he could get lost in any direction, or stay stranded near the intersection. Just write a tag indicating where your character encounters an Andrew and I'll work it out (or you can PM me or ping me on AIM if you want to hammer it out together). He'll be staying in twelfths, since merging into sixths would make him a foot and a half high, meaning he'd be still too small to get around without trouble but too big to go unnoticed. There might be multiple Andrews traveling together, so let me know if you want two of them.]

UPDATE, November 14: Nine Andrews are accounted for so far. One Andrew each currently reserved for Lucy, Spike, and Topher, meaning no more Andrews are available.
bluesuit_handy: (.misc | behind a plant)
[personal profile] bluesuit_handy
Andrew is sure he's seen someone wearing a shimmer just now.

Or no, he isn't sure. With his dull human senses, he's rarely entirely sure of any of his perceptions anymore. Details he believes the Doctor would pick out with ease routinely get glossed over by his little human brain, to the point where it actually took him a moment to remember that the air oughtn't to be shimmering with heat in a northern clime in March. Of course, it could have been -- it could have been heat from a vent, or a car's exhaust, or even just his eyes playing tricks on him. Curiosity has won out over practicality, though, and he's abandoned his quest to buy vegetables for dinner in favor of dodging through foot traffic, eyes trained on the young woman whose humanity he doubts. It won't occur to him, of course, to think that anyone who sees him and registers what he's doing will simply see a man stalking following an unsuspecting woman.
bluesuit_handy: (.smile | putting coat on)
[personal profile] bluesuit_handy
The fact that tonight is the night of the full moon seems entirely coincidental to Handrew. It's something he notes idly in passing, the same way he more or less notices all the odds and ends of the Earth calendar as they go slouching by. It's a night for witching, if old superstitions are to be believed. Or, in the modern day, it's an evening for bundling up in all his warmest clothing before coming by the base to pick Daine up for a sleepover. His and James's vague affiliation with the rebels gets him past Phil without a hitch once more, and then he's off through the maze of hallways, miraculously only going down two wrong turns before he finds his way to Daine's door and gives it a smart rap with his knuckles.
bluesuit_handy: (.misc | lounge)
[personal profile] bluesuit_handy
Today is a day like any other day, apart from Andrew and James having run out of both tea and coffee at home. This is a matter of much greater concern to Andrew than it is to James; even in his current human form, the former android hasn't given in to the allure of a raging caffeine addiction. Andrew, on the other hand, can feel his eyelids drooping and his head threatening to ache at the mere thought of a day without.

He'll need to go shopping to prevent this from happening again tomorrow, but for today there's a quicker solution. He's picked up a newspaper somewhere and ensconced himself in a corner armchair at a coffee shop, and can now be found dunking biscotti in his drink while he tries to balance the paper on one raised knee so he can read it at the same time. Reading glasses perch on his crooked nose, a scarf lays balled up and discarded in his lap, and he's even shed his outermost coat, though multiple layers still shield him from the chill. He's aware, peripherally, of the gentle press of the leather collar around his neck. He resists the urge to reach up and fiddle with it, knowing he triple checked to make sure it was hidden before he left the flat. Today isn't the first day he's agreed (or asked, actually) for James to leave it on him, but wearing it in public is still new enough to make him a little nervous when he thinks about it.
bluesuit_handy: (.misc | science experiment)
[personal profile] bluesuit_handy
After having been pulled or sliced in half not once but twice now, Andrew has come to the delayed conclusion that he ought to take some sort of control over his power to split himself. He doesn't exactly enjoy being two people at once; the second time it happened he at least knew neither of him was an evil twin, but seeing himself walking around talking to other people without having the decency to be himself enough to let him in on his thoughts makes him uneasy. Seeing himself getting all uneasy looking at him while he's just trying to have a conversation with someone also makes him uneasy. It sort of works out once he's all in one piece again, but then he's got to integrate memories and things feel all complicated and contradictory.

If he's going to have to live with being able to be pulled or squished to pieces, though, he wants to know how it works and how to do it -- or choose not to do it -- of his own volition. Though he and James are no longer living amongst the rebels, they're still on friendly enough terms that he's able to stroll right into the base this afternoon and go down to the training grounds, with the idea that he might find someone there to yank on his arm or something and encourage him to split.

[ooc: If your character is unlikely to be hanging around the training grounds in the rebel base, they might run into Andrew when he's either on his way or leaving afterwards, whether inside or outside the base. I would definitely like him to get all splitty in this thread, though.]

--



Yesterday was allowance day, which means that today, Peter is momentarily wealthy. That means no busking today, no begging for Lucy to feed him, and no ramen fucking noodles. It also means no more putting up with piss-poor shoes that let his feet get cold and look like something out of a KMart discount bin.

He swings a bag containing his old shoes as he pokes along in search of something good for lunch, feeling dapper sexy and content in his new leather shoes and his slightly less new leather jacket. He's even looking more or less groomed today, having really decided to live it up while he can afford it. Within the week he'll be back to busking and begging, but it's better to live rich a few days of the month than to accept that his life should be one of budgeting and other drudgery.

--

[ooc: As with the last post like this, Andrew and Peter are each open to one thread on this post, so please write in the subject line of your comment which one you want. ETA: Both threads are taken!]
bluesuit_handy: (.misc | science experiment)
[personal profile] bluesuit_handy
It's too cold out yet for Andrew to want to sit on a park bench and do his tinkering or people-watching outdoors. On the other hand, too much time spent working on his latest scanner inside the small flat he shares with James has been making him stir-crazy. James is lovely company, of course, and they became more or less used to long periods together in a confined space during their travels between the stars, but today he feels like poking his nose into other people's business -- or at least having a good, long stroll while he looks for some business he can poke into.

Thus far, nothing's turned up. Unperturbed, Andrew makes his way to the park, knowing that anything related to the rift is most likely to happen there. He shouldn't hope that someone will come through or that the rift will cause any new shenanigans, but some small part of him really, really does. He fiddles with his scanner as he goes, not expecting any readings that will actually shed light on the situation after so long of getting nothing useful, but hoping this latest model might pick up wavelengths missed by the last one he put together.

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