Matrix Radio, Thursday June 30th (Before Zinyak's Announcement)

[geniuswithasmartphone]

I just...sup, Fandom. Or wherever the *BLEEP* we are, I guess. I dunno how far this broadcast's goin'--not very, is my guess--but anyone who's stuck in this place with me can prolly hear this, at least. So, first step--hey, what's up, you ain't alone. Even if your partners somehow fell through some kinda tear in reality an left you behind, there's other folks here still. Normal folks, not the creepy 'Everythin' Is Awesome' folks wanderin' around, smilin' all unsettlin' like. Don't know who's here an' who ain't, that might be a good thing to figure out.

Or...Or somethin'. I dunno. I ain't a mastermind. And the *BLEEP* I do know don't seem to be much good at figurin' out what's wrong or where my people went, so who knows what it's even good for-- *Long, shuddery breath*

( WTF Radio )

A'ight. So, to sum up what seems to be most important: A buncha us are trapped here, stuck in some kinda force field that keeps us in an' communication out. There's some other people who're in here with us, but they've all been, like, lobotomized into thinkin' it's some kinda happy funtime party--you can tell who's who by whether they're smilin' like an extra in a Soundgarden video or if they look properly distressed. Some folks with powers ain't got theirs anymore, some folks' weapons ain't workin' anymore, and some folks...some folks just vanished. I'mma be at Luke's today, tryna figure...somethin out. Anythin'. Feel free to stop by with whatever info you got, see if we can't figure what's what an' how to fix it.

Luke's, Thursday

[geniuswithasmartphone]

The staff's new look momentarily distracted Hardison from noticing their vacant smiles--for a second, he'd almost thought it was normal Fandom weirdness that had them dressing up like hot dogs. It wasn't until the Cook looked up from the stove to wave cheerfully at him--instead of ignoring him as was right and proper--that Hardison realized that they, too, had been replaced by creepy pod people.

Snarling at them to stay in the kitchen unless specifically needed to do their jobs, Hardison walked over to the Specials board and erased it. There were a lot more important information to be kept track of than the food on-order today (flapjacks, flapjacks and more flapjacks, in case anyone cared). When he was done noting everything he could think of on the board, he kept it propped up in the window to attract attention. Maybe with more info than what they had, they could figure something out.

That done, Hardison set up at a booth with several laptops, trying to figure out how they were keeping communications down and seeing if there was anything he could break. He was in the mood to cause a lot of trouble today.

TODAY'S SPECIALS
flapjacks!

People w/out Powers:
*Atton
*Jono
*Bo?
*Raven

People w/out Weapons:
*Cara
*Zoe

Missing People:
*Eliot
*Parker
*Surreal?
*Cosima

Other Weird Stuff
*Pets missing and/or wrong
*Most PEOPLE wrong (LOOK AT LUKE'S STAFF)
*Force field
*No communication from outside island
*Anyone's phone working?
*Jono healed(?)
*Creepy towers

YO! PAY ATTENTION TO THIS PART!
According to a chat I had with someone named Kinzie, we're actually in some kind of Fandom sim, a lot like the Danger Shop, only up on some weird alien spaceship. As an FYI.

FEEL FREE TO ADD!

A Disembodied Voice All Over The Matrix, Thursday Morning

[zin-the-matrix.livejournal.com]

The voice came at a civilized time: just before breakfast, or at least, the hour any reasonable person would be having breakfast. It was a cultured voice, benevolent, with only the slightest undercurrent of threat.

"Citizens of Simulation 45y," it began, "This is Emperor Zinyak of the Zin Empire. I am willing to forgive your trespasses from yesterday as a mere initial surge of confusion, but for your own safety, I have installed some guards. Please, settle in peacefully, and no further measures need to be taken. Thank you. And now that I have your attention..."

The rest of the hour was taken up by Zinyak reading choice chapters from Society & Sociability aloud to the simulation. He was quite fond of Austen.

Afterwards, he sank back into his seat and waved a hand. Some of yesterday's pleasant island-dwellers began to congregate around the towers and morphed, gaining the appearance of a Zin, gaining blasters; he'd rather wished he didn't need to do that. Not just because he really had hoped they'd go along willingly: the act of adding something always meant the act of displacing something else.

Like replacing his NPCs' clothing programs with the Fast Food Mascot collection. Filling up the stores with a collection of gag weapons that he hoped weren't entirely functional. Replacing several restaurant items with flapjacks: he supposed that wasn't too bad.

He decided to slap the Laughter soundtrack on both bars on the island just to give it all a bit of panache. That would hopefully do.

[[ establishy! ]]

Just Outside MCA, The Matrix, Shortly After Zinyak's Broadcast, Thursday

[suitably_heroic]

Several hours of searching his apartment - when he and Cara had gotten back, and again this morning - and then the greater premises of the MCA building, such as the lobby - and Atton had finally found a weapon.

Which was to say he had a broom.

He put his foot down on the head as he stepped outside and violently yanked the stick part out of it. "So what I'm gathering from this," he said, looking up at... wherever that voice had come from, just to make sure he was listening, "is that there's finally someone we can beat the poodoo out of."

They had taken all of his weapons, they had taken the Force out of his head, and they had taken the Ebon Hawk. Atton might not have been Sith anymore, but damn if he wasn't strongly inclined to make sure someone was going to die. Screaming. For this. "And then to finish up, I think I'm going to kick this Zinyak guy in the nuts."

[[ open, though some sp warning applies! ]]

5th Floor Common Room, Thursday afternoon, The Matrix

[soniaroadsqueen]

Ringo was not feeling well. She wasn't looking too good, either.

She wasn't as nauseous as she had been when she woke up Wednesday morning feeling like everything was spinning and tilting, but things still didn't feel very stable under her feet. She'd managed to carefully make her way down the hallway from her room to the common room to eat some rice crackers, but then she hadn't been up to getting back to her room.

So now she was laying down on the couch, looking unhealthily pale and hoping that the bag of ice on her forehead would help.

It did, a little, but not a whole lot. Some part of Ringo was worried because she knew something was wrong. She didn't get dizzy. Or, she never had before. It was supposed to be impossible for a Gravity Child, in fact. But she felt dizzy. Really, really dizzy.

She should probably talk to someone, but she felt just nauseous enough to find it hard to get up the energy.

[ooc: Open, of course. Ringo's suffering the effects of no longer having access to an internal gyroscope, and isn't at all used to trying to figure out balance without it.]

The Park, Thursday Afternoon

[electrocynic]

The uniform had been a reflex. What else were you supposed to do when subjected to monologuing from someone who distinctly sounded like a super villain? It was in her blood.

But sometimes it was of no use. Sure, she was wearing her go-go boots and her dress and her cuff, but what good was it? Her powers were gone. (And she hadn't even noticed until today. Look, yesterday had been a day of mostly nothing.) And now she was standing in the park, just... watching. Looking around.

A rikshaw went past, driven by what, yes, looked like a person in a hot dog costume.

She felt more unsettled than she would have preferred.

"Now what?"

[ooc: Post and park are open for all that usual stuff they can be open for!]

In front of Hannibal's house, The Matrix, Thursday Evening

[inner-fire.livejournal.com]

"Of course! Of-bloody-course!"

Jonothon was... well, to say he was angry was probably a severe understatement. He was outside, yelling at... mostly at the simulation flamingos that had camped out on Hannibal's perfectly manicured simulation lawn. There was a simulation of Joni in his pocket, which was normal except for the 'simulation' part, and he was letting off steam by kicking that simulation tree a few times before jogging a lap of the lawn and starting the process all over.

Because of course none of this was real. Of course his face wasn't real, of course this world wasn't real and they were all trapped in some manner of bloody mindfuck by some sort of pretentious nit for god bloody only knew what reasons, and there was probably a saner, calmer way to get the hell out of this mess, but the danger they were in wasn't immediate so much as infuriating thus far, and Jono was not a big fan of mindfucks or having his body altered against his will as he slept at night, and he'd wind down and start being functional sooner or later, but right now...?

Right now, he was going to do another circuit of the lawn, where he'd been pacing a trench since Zinyak's announcement that morning, and he was going to kick that tree one more time for good measure. He didn't like the way it had been looking at him. And kicking a rickshaw driver dressed as a hot dog hardly seemed sporting.

...Then again, it probably would have been satisfying, at least.

In his pocket, simulation-Joni mostly just peered out curiously and meowed from time to time.

[OOC: Open! Grumpy Jono is grumpy.]

A tertiary simulation within the matrix, at some point

[whoisalicewhite.livejournal.com]

WHOMP.

A pile of money slid sideways under Parker as she landed. A mattress of money.

A huge, huge, princess-and-the-pea size set of mattresses, maybe. "What the..."

.... in non-sequential bills!!!

"Eeeeeee!"

[open for anyone to get sucked in and or spat out into Parker's little happy money pit.]