Well, okay, he's in a bookstore, not a particularly exciting location, but it is a multistory one. And as it is, he is currently rushing into a closing elevator.
Well, okay, he's in a bookstore, not a particularly exciting location, but it is a multistory one. And as it is, he is currently rushing into a closing elevator.
Breathing in the cool evening air, hands in his pockets as he strolls along, he doesn't feel too bad. The closer he gets, however, the grumpier he becomes about being locked out earlier, and worried that she still won't let him in.
The latter seems not to be an issue though - the door pushes opens easily this time. But now it's his turn to shut her out of his head as he walks inside, throwing his coat over the railing. He wants her to know he's not pleased about her behavior.
Her first go sent her to a planet with a surface like smooth silica, and all the life underground in beautifully bored tunnels, everything opalescent whites and pinks and greens. The people were little roboty things, and Charley spent a week with them, befriending a group of-- she supposed they’d be teenagers, by Earth standards, if an inorganic alien lifeform could be said to be a teenager-- and exploring deeper into the planet than anyone had yet ventured. After that, a planet that was all seas (she’d quickly left, considerably damper than she'd arrived); after that, someplace called Malleiateos, covered with ochre-fawn-marigold-tawny fields and breathing trees, where a young triad had insisted she stay with them because she looked exhausted. She suspects they’d rather fancied her, but they’d been polite enough to keep it to themselves.
And now? Now… she’s fairly sure she’s in New York. She is; New York City. Charley can’t help it; she laughs out loud. She’s still feeling a little disorientated from her arrival, which had been unwontedly rough, like space and time had grabbed her and had to shove her through a minute gap to get her here, so perhaps a little giddiness is understandable. She feels disorientated and frazzled, but it is suddenly, unexpectedly wonderful to be on Earth.
It’s warm, it’s Spring, she’s in a park next to a lake, and she stands for a moment, squinting up at the skyline. Certainly not the 1930’s, she can tell that much. A few people pause to blink at her, but other than having just appeared out of nowhere, she doesn’t stand out much; a young woman dressed head-to-toe in practical, comfortable black, wearing a backpack. She might be anyone.
Unpeeling her wristband and tucking it away into the backpack, she slings the bag back over her shoulder, chooses a direction, and starts walking.
[OOC: She's materalised in Central Park, near the reservoir, and is going to be wandering in a generally southerly direction, more or less towards the Rebel base, so feel free to run into her]
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?
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:
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.
Say what you will about Tony Stark (go ahead – say it. Hell, $20 if you can come up with something he hasn't heard before because chance are, whatever you're thinking someone's already said, held a news conference on it, translated it into six or seven different languages, and had it printed up on the front page of the next day's news) but the man is not stupid. Egotistical, arrogant, self involved, inappropriately cavalier, know-it-all,ego – did he mention egotistical yet? Well, there is enough of that to list twice. He is pretty amazing, after all. Or narcissistic, as some people would put it.
In fairness he's only like that because he's so fucking brilliant. Or, you know, maybe he's just a jerk that happens to be good at physics but the end result is pretty much the same.
Tony Stark is not dumb, but go ahead and say it. Run negative ads on how this guy is nothing more than a flashy playboy who inherited his father's company. Reassure the board that they have nothing to worry about from a second generation millionaire whose biggest accomplishment to date was getting drunk enough to get his ass thrown out of his own twenty first birthday. Watch all the E! Live reporters that follow him around waiting for the show off moment that they all know is coming because Tony just can't resist and tell yourself that you'll have no trouble beating this brat at the company game. He's probably never done a days work in his life.
The first few months after his parents' deaths but before he actually acquired control of Stark Industries, Obadiah would bring these articles and report on the talk going around all saying the same thing and it drove Tony ballistic. He would hide away in his parents' mansion, sitting in his old lab in the dark just pouting. He'd pace the floors for five, six hours with a snarl and – okay, yeah, generally he acted just like the spoiled kid that everyone claimed. But, hey, he was just a kid (well, sort of) and, hello, his parents had just passed away so it's not like he didn't have a reason to go all woe is me, Hamlet level angst. Maybe crashing like, four irreplaceable classic cars in under two weeks and refusing to eat for days on end was going a little overboard, but Tony's always been a bit theatrical, ya know?
The day that Tony officially inherited his father's business and added CEO to his resume the rest of the tech sector was circling like sharks. Picture it: poor, innocent Tony all young and helpless, treading the dark waters of... Okay, fine, so it was nothing like that. More like poor, not-so-innocent Tony naked in his yacht’s hot tub surrounded by beautiful women and with a cocktail in hand, but just because he was safe aboard a million dollar boat didn't make the waters any safer. Rumor had it that some of the other big CEOs had a running bet on how long it'd be before the golden child fell. Most of them Tony knew on a first name bases. They may have been the competition, but they'd always respected Howard Stark.
His son, that's a whole different story.
He held a news conference partly because that's what is done but mostly because Tony loves having all eyes on him. He wore a fucking fabulous suit worth more than the entire audiences' combined. He didn't go on about his dad or responsibility to anything like that. Actually, he talked about how he was looking forward to all the award ceremonies and made some bad joke about how he was going to take the weapon's division and “blow them all away”. Everyone laughed and applauded and loved it; Tony always knew how to give the people what they wanted.
Then he went into the company labs, he changed into something not the monetary equivalent of a small private island, and he told all the employees hey, guys, why don't you go on. Take a break. Let the new kid handle the work today.
Looking back, probably everyone there figured this would be the last day they'd actually have their jobs. That's the kind of crash and burn everyone was expecting. In fairness, it's Tony Stark. He probably only knows 'Jobs' from industry galas.
At the time, though, Tony figured he was just being an extra cool boss. I mean, who wants to work when you could be out living life, right? Not like they were really doing anything that important, and no one wants to be stuck inside with a computer all day.
It ended up taking seventeen days, but when Tony emerged from the labs and headed up to his first big board meeting still wearing his jeans and Black Sabbath Tee he brought with him a whole new level of “smart” tech. In seventeen days Tony Stark went from being a bad bet to the guy everyone was scrambling just to keep in view.
Turns out that while Tony might be just a little self-absorbed (okay, he was the fucking Downy Quilt Paper Towels of self-absorbtion) he actually managed to learn a trick of two from the old man, not too mention the multiple Ph.D. Programs he'd completed.
So not to brag, but that's exactly what this is. Some people might find it in bad taste to be this shamelessly in love with yourself, but when you're Tony Stark it's really hard not to be. He is, after all, the kid that rocked the tech world, the CEO of a company that practically owned the military for almost nine straight years and, oh yeah, in case it even needs mentioning: a fucking super hero. There is no where in the world, no corner in the deadest parts of Siberia, where people don't recognize Tony Stark.
Which had been the first real sign that something had gone absolutely wrong.
( Tony Had 4 & 1/2 Years In The Rift )
He is, however, feeling like pissing off Peter is an amazing and worthwhile endeavor.
With a snap of his fingers, he appears noiselessly in the middle of Peter's apartment and sways on his feet just a bit before he can take in his surroundings. It's not much of a place. He notes Peter sitting watching TV, wiggles his fingers in hello, and makes his way directly to the kitchen cabinets in search of what booze Peter no doubt has lying around. "No Lucy? I expected Lucy."
It doesn't take long for Ianto to cave to his dreams. He tries to stay awake, and when that fails, to sleep as little as possible, but he's getting too old to subsist on coffee and adrenaline. When he gets back to his apartment, there's only an hour or so of sun left - while he appreciates the night, he prefers to stay out of it. Faced with the prospect of more coffee and less sleep, he makes his decision quickly.
The sun has long set by the time he reaches the TARDIS - he had to make a few stops first - and the city makes up for it to a degree, but even the lamps lighting the ways of Central Park are little use to him once he steps off the path. His mobile and memory light the rest of the way through the Ramble until he spies the illuminated windows. He knocks quietly with the hand wrapped around the phone, as the other hand is holding a small blue gift bag. "Hullo," he adds quietly, like she doesn't already know he's here, like she didn't see him coming from a mile away, "I've got candy."
So it's probably a good thing he gets distracted the moment he steps outside. He's gotten (frustratingly) used to being greeted by the same exact view every time, so he strides out briskly, not looking where he's going, only to have his foot catch in the heavy snow and for him to fall flat on his face in the snow with a ridiculous flail.
See, this is why he opens the TARDIS doors inwards. He might not have gotten them open if he tried to open them outwards right now. Then again, that might've been preferable to this.
Still, it takes no time at all to get over the somewhat uncomfortable surprise, and he rolls over onto his back and lets out a delighted laugh. Snow! Brilliant!
"TARDIS, get out here," he calls excitedly as he gets to his feet and starts running around in the snow while tugging insistently at her mind, like a two-year old with a sugar kick trying to pull its mom into playing with them.
[OOC: Open for other people to come join too.]
He abandons his tea half drunk, walking briskly back to the console room and skipping up the steps. He fiddles with the controls a bit, then pulls the screen over to take a look at it.
He continues looking for several seconds.
When the screen refuses to give him anything of meaning, he fiddles with more controls, but all it gives him is more gibberish. Then he hits the monitor, but that doesn't make any difference either.
"What's wrong with you today?" he asks, giving her a worried and confused nudge with his mind. "Eh?"
What the Master will not admit is being relieved or anxious. Naturally, the universe has grander plans for him, than for him to die on that backwater. As for the Cheetah virus, well, the Master is an extraordinary scientist, a genius almost without measure! He will find a cure.
The Master maneuvers his TARDIS through the time vortex, but something goes wrong. He feels himself being pulled off course, as he heads for Earth, planning to create some new mischief for the Doctor. Warning bells go off and the Master fights to keep his systems stable. The Master materializes and the warnings go quiet.
Sighing, the Master examines his instruments. They read New York, America, Earth, on January 29, 2013. He chuckles. That isn't where he intended, but he's safe and on Earth. He feels good! He feels...like himself. The Master finds a mirror and looks. He is whole again. His eyes are blue, his teeth those of an omnivore. He laughs heartily. Oh, the universe does love him! Opening the doors, he steps outside and takes a deep breath of the air.
Right now, though, he could no more pay for a nice dinner than he could sprout wings and fly. The week and a half he's spent in hiding after Gabriel's interruption of his show hasn't made him any richer, and by now he's spent every penny he had. On the bright side, he's looking unusually dashing in his new leather coat, which he bought to make himself feel better after that whole fiasco. He tries Lucy's flat first, since she's usually got something to eat in there, but she isn't home and he's not about to risk teleporting across the island by trying to appear on the other side of her door. He does manage to get hold of her via text, but she doesn't seem interested in feeding him for once, and he finally gives her up as a lost cause and going back to his own flat for his magic gear. He doesn't relish the thought of going back out into the park after what happened the last time, but it's busk or beg at this point. He spends a while looking around to make sure Gabriel isn't present before going to his regular spot to draw up a crowd.
For once, Luke feels useful. School's out for the evening, and he's busily mapping rift radiation with some of Topher's equipment. He's doing his best to make a spiral outward from the eye of the rift, though certain things have made that difficult. He's avoiding the actual eye, for one thing (he's been warned about the rebels who often wait there for new arrivals, and doesn't want to spend so much time at Bethesda that he starts getting recognized). For another, the lake is sort of in the way of his spiraling. His path describes a sort of zig-zag instead as he none too discreetly fiddles with the blinking device and takes occasional notes.
Andrew comes down the stairs to the subway platform just in time to see his train sitting at the station with its doors open. With an exclamation of annoyance he bursts into a run, dodging (and quite possibly knocking over in his haste) slower pedestrians as he sprints for the train. He could wait, of course -- Daine isn't even expecting him, so it'd hardly matter if he was late from having to wait for the next train. Waiting really isn't Andrew's style, though, so when he sees the doors begin to shut he puts on one last burst of extra speed, turning sideways to slip between the too-quickly closing doors.
"Wait!" He's too late, and the doors shut hard on him, pinning him halfway inside. Andrew winces at the full-body pinch and squirms and -- there! He's inside! Meanwhile, Andrew stumbles back from the doors, pushed back out onto the platform. He scowls at the doors and at the...oh bollocks, that's a very familiar head of hair. The Andrew inside the train realizes belatedly that something's wrong and turns to look back at him, and they share twin looks of panic as the train pulls away with half of him inside it.
OOC: As with Krissy's post in this format, each character is open to one thread on this post. Andrew is up for two threads, as you can tag either the Andrew on the train or the Andrew on the platform. Each Andrew is about 4'7" tall.
All threads taken.
Ianto does his best to help, of course. He spends as much time with her as he can, either helping her search, showing her how to conduct herself in the city (obviously she knows about cars and money and subway trains, but she's never had reason to apply that knowledge), or making sure she keeps her body fed and rested. It's such a small concern compared to everything else that's weighing on her, but she does have to admit, left to her own will she'd have worn it out entirely by now searching for the Doctor without interruption. When it sleeps, she busies herself with healing the damage the journey through the rift caused her and recalibrating her sensors to this universe, but she soon reaches a point where she simply needs the Doctor's assistance.
It isn't even a search really, it's more of a pursuit. She knows where he is, approximately, but he moves a lot faster than her, so that by the time she's reached and searching an area he has already moved on. She'd even caught up with him once, but then he got on a train and her small form was unable to squeeze through the slow-moving mass of people in time to follow him. If she could just see where he is going next, this all wouldn't be so difficult. However, with her confined to a linear existence like this, he keeps being just out of her reach. The frustration and loneliness are almost too much to bear.
But today, shortly after breakfast with Ianto, she senses the Doctor actually moving towards her, towards her true form hidden in the park. With a mixture of desperate hope and trepidation at the possibility of losing him again, she hurries back to her self, straining to pinpoint his location more precisely and trying to decide which route through the park to check first. She can't miss him this time, not again.
She's been picking her subjects carefully, though. Rich people with enough to spare mostly, but especially people she felt like deserved it. Like she's being Robin Hood, except she keeps the money for herself. She'd meant to go alleviate some of Peter's customers of more money, but then Gabriel had been one of them. Lucy didn't feel like chatting with him, and Peter hasn't done any new show since that.
Today, she's more focused on spending some of her (sort of) hard-earned cash. She got herself a brand new outfit, a massage and a manicure, and had her hair done - not for any particular reason, just to feel good. It's nice and familiar, from back when life was simpler. Budgeting isn't something that concerns her these days.
At the moment, she's sitting on a bench by Wollman Rink at the south end of Central Park, watching people ice-skating and blowing soap bubbles. Because why not?
After arriving more or less right in Times Square the other day, the Doctor has been doing a lot of running around. He's gotten distracted by more than a few little things on the way - always some small mysteries to figure out, whether they have extraterrestial roots or not.
He's also gone sightseeing a little bit. By now, the novelty is wearing thin. He can't do anything to the rift in his current TARDIS-less state, and he's not quite bored enough to do something really stupid. Romac and the rebels are hardly ideal groups, but he didn't see any great injustices being done, and nothing that demanded his immediate attention. He's currently skeptical to both, but neither are planning world domination - just world defending, which he can get behind, even if their methods are questionable. Until he does further poking, anyhow.
Currently, he's ignoring weird looks while running around 56th street with a beeping device that looks very definitely homemade. Occasionally he'll run up to someone and scan them with the beeping device, only to vaguely apologise and keep moving.
James has found out that it's difficult to find a great flat to move into in a single day. Him and Andrew have therefore taken up temporary residence at a somewhat fancy hotel in the East Village. Turns out it's really easy to get money when you can just ask the ATMs for some with your mind, and they give it to you.
He's also spent quite a bit of time discovering what it means to have a biological body. Recognising the different needs, making sure not to overindulge or tire himself out - and tons of little things that most people don't even think about. Getting cravings for sugar, what it feels like to stub your toe, getting car-sick. It's an interesting learning experience.
Today he's taken a break from any and every responsibility, and is indulging his need to be nice. Mostly he's been surprising people with paying for them at local shops, giving big tips to street musicians, that sort of stuff. Little gestures that put smiles on people's faces, and sometimes leads to lovely conversations.
"You want some?" he asks a random stranger who'd paused by the Nuts4Nuts stand he'd been buying some honey-roasted almonds from.
[Lucy is still untagged.]
The Doctor smiles. "Course I do. Wasn't thinking. Sorry," he says. Of course Donna would like to see her family alone, when they hadn't seen each other for so long. He should be used to it by now -- his companions' mums aren't usually too fond of him. Even though he had been looking forward to seeing Wilf. Later, then.
"I'm gonna get some flowers and walk home. Why don't I meet you back here, this time, tomorrow?" she tells him.
"Here. Tomorrow. Sold." The Doctor winks at her and starts walking off. "Nice flower shop on the corner thataway," he calls out, pointing. "Ask for Loretta and say I sent you."
That had been an interesting day. That stuff had taken ages to wash off, though. Well, at least now he has no social engagements, he has time to figure out why no one is around today. He heads in the opposite direction from Donna and the TARDIS, shoving his hands in the pockets of his blue suit and ambling down the street.
Except he doesn't get all that much investigating done, because all of a sudden he feels his stomach twist. Like when you're walking up the stairs and you think there's still a step to go, but your foot only finds air. The whole world turns sideways for a second, the Doctor blinks, and lands on his knees on the pavement.
Except he's not where he was a moment earlier. There's a few things that tip him off. Mostly it's the huge, light-covered building and large amounts of people milling around. It's colder, and it's darker, though you can't really tell given how well-lit the place is. He mouths wordlessly at his surroundings. The yellow cabs is what sells it. No. Can't be. Except it definitely is.
He grabs a random stranger, asking "Excuse me, mind telling me the date?"