[Now, Wes has never been too fond of frivolous chit chat when it’s in the form of chatty nurses outside his office, or bonehead jockstraps talking shit at the pub, but since this whole... rebranding nightmare and the release of the captives (and their re-rebranding), Colony 22′s atmosphere has been quite the buzzkill.] 

So... not to alarm anybody but there’s a rat the size of my bicep in the walk in freezer. Which is saying something, because my biceps are spectacular.

[Well, two nights in, and he knows at least one thing about Colony 22. 

Someone is going to have to do something about that fucking mattress. What is this, prison? In 1984? 

He gets that the fallout of D-Day meant fewer resources, unreliable heating, a sudden and depressing inability to buy things on Ebay. But what he doesn’t understand is how the apocalypse is an excuse for things like the absence of decent bedding. Severely outdated technology. Rotting cabinets, cracking furniture. Five years is not enough time to turn a “boarding school” (which is, at best, playing fast and loose with the term) into a caveman’s castle. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he’d left Cambridge on a boat and somehow wound up on the forest moon of Endor.  This place is straight up Ewok’s Ville.

Someone had overheard Teilo’s sour mutter about it, just last night, and they’d explained to him (with a generous serving of condescension, he might add), that the school had been decommissioned in the early 2040s. All he could think was—then why the fuck are you staying here of all places? If Harvard had survived, surely there had to be more remains of civilization on this side of the Atlantic. Somewhere, at least, right? 

But he’s endeavouring at a staunch refusal to let the thought cross his mind that maybe, maybe, he and Sid would have been better off staying at Colony 2. But they’d come this far, spent weeks travelling in the musty, mole-ridden cargo decks of the Merchant ships, and God help him if it was all going to be for nothing. He’s still trying to wash the stench of fish off his clothes. 

No, it hadn’t been for nothing. It can’t have been. But, Christ, what he wouldn’t give for his old bed back. His room. His privacy. His dignity. His book shelf. His rain shower head—God, that one hurt. Even the water pressure here was miserable. So far his experience had been that the dorm showers were about as satisfying as being pissed on, and the training room ones were like pelting off a layer of skin with stones. Or sandpaper. Or bullets. 

He bites loudly into a raw carrot stick. Chews. 

It’s the first edible thing he’s been served here in probably 36 hours. And don’t even get him started on the coffee situation. He’s only just managed to stop weeping about it.

He can feel someone’s eyes on him, and for a moment, he just lowers his forehead, fringe falling into his face, and he seriously considers dropping his head straight down onto the table, but thinks better of it.] So... what’s this about... a bunch of rebels locked up in dungeons? [He asks without yet looking up. And he actually chuckles, then, shaking his head, because it sounds just as fucking ridiculous when he repeats these rumours he’s been hearing. More so, even.] Shit—[he mutters, mostly to himself.] Sounds like a bad RPG game, doesn’t it?

[As much as Clove wishes it weren’t necessary, she makes her way to the dining hall. Sidling in, she tries to avoid making eye contact with anyone, without looking like she’s hesitant in any way. A normal day. A normal meal.]

[Except---there are nearly a dozen Infected locked away in Correctional for the biggest group infraction of Colony rules that she’s ever heard of. And the black wristbands were still being worn, though all those with tattoos had been apprehended. No matter how quickly they were confiscated there always seemed to be a couple that found their way onto wrists. Everything had changed over the last few hours, and it the storm isn’t spent yet. Not even close.]

[She’s hating that she didn’t stash food in her room, abuse of status or not. Clove would’ve given anything not to be sitting down with everyone at this very moment. There’s a visible distance between her and any other citizen---a small blessing, she supposes.]

[This is probably going to be nothing compared to when word gets out about the interrogations, not to mention the decision that’s already been made to keep everyone in holding for the night. She just has to pretend like she isn’t worried, in the slightest.]

[For the first time in her memory, she’s concerned that she’s not managing to be entirely convincing in her efforts.]

[After the clean up is taken care of, there isn’t much more for Elly to do as the party ends. No wild actions, no needing to sheepdog people back to the dorms---nothing distressing at all, actually. She wakes up the next morning none the worse for the long night, which she's grateful for. But, despite the excitement of those rebellious few she’d met at the party, nothing seems to be catching the NWRF’s attention, not yet at least.]

[So, with lack of anything better to do in her spare time (Pax’s birthday surprise having already been managed), Elly finds herself doubling down on her efforts in the library.]

[No one really bothers her here, she’s found. And no one disturbs her research materials, such as they are, if she just leaves them piled in the corner underneath a very dull-looking couple of dictionaries. So she’s taken to storing what relevant materials she finds there, hidden in plain sight. If the NWRF wants to take them away, they can do that, she figures---she needs to internalize everything she finds as quickly as possible, memorize and store it for when she travels back to her own time anyway, which could be any moment. She can’t rely on written notes, this mess of pages with underlined sections is all temporary.] 

[So... they put him in a box.]

[They put him. In a goddamn box.]

[He was definitely expecting this, but that doesn’t make it suck any less. It’s not like he’s claustrophobic or anything, not exactly, but being locked up is the surest way Mouse can think of to drive him slowly, steadily, unavoidably batshit crazy.]

[He’s got his back against the cold wall, and he’s trying to focus on what’s outside---specifically, bouncing his awareness through each of the Lost Boys, wherever the hell they are. They’re all varying shades of nervous, angry, frightened---but there’s a reassurance that no matter where they are, he can at least have some kind of tether to them. That if something goes really wrong, he’ll know. He hasn’t done this, to this extent, in a while. When they first arrived and got split into separate houses, he did it all night, every night.]

[And it’s familiar, horrible as that might seem. He sits with his eyes closed and switches from Trig, to Olly, to Skates, to the Pup, and then cycles through over and again and again, and it keeps him from checking anyone nearer. Lake’s in the next cell over, or maybe one more---he’s not sure how far he can sense him, now, but either way, it’s close enough to be awful. Lake’s a goddamn mess right now, and that’s---that’s not something he can think about. He did once, until he realized there was dampness on his cheek and then he quickly backtracked to Skates. To Olly. To the Pup. To Trig. Skates. Olly. Pup. Trig.]

[Like a meditation, sort of. The worst kind, but it’s working for a while. Until they bring in Orson... and then two more Empaths, Benji and that Delma bloke, Kip. All told, not the most lively bunch. And now, Mouse isn’t going to be able to dwell on shitty situations and terrible feelings. So... fuck. What now, if not brooding?]

[He rubs his neck, feels under the collar of his jacket where a fresh bruise sits. Sorry, Lake---definitely not what you were hoping this’d be for, but desperate times. He presses his fingertips into it until there’s enough physical discomfort to clear his head of the garbage fire of bad feelings that was raging there. If he’s going to be locked in a cell with two other Empaths, he’s not going to make it worse for all of them. After a long moment, he realizes he’ll need a distraction. In the dark cell, not much comes to mind. He clears his throat.] Right. So, lads. Twenty questions, then? [His tone is so chipper it basically cuts through the stress of the atmosphere like a chainsaw, which was what he was going for. He claps his hands, forcing eagerness.] Wait, no---better, Truth or Dare. I’ll go first, an’ I choose Dare. [...as if that’s not what he always chooses.]

[Before anyone can take him up on his brilliant idea, however, the door to the cell opens. A security guard with a face chiseled from the grouchiest of granite looms in. And lo and behold, it’s Mouse’s name he calls. That can’t possibly be good...]

[...but least it’ll get him out of here. Even if it’s to be taken out to the gallows or something, he’ll be out of this room, he thinks, and gets to his feet with a too-wide grin to the others.] Ah, sorry. Next time.

[He gives the guard a cheerful nod as he passes him, and claps him on the shoulder.] Well, onwards to glory we go, then. What’s your name, mate?

[Roy was no longer panicking. No. After two interrogations, neither of which left him feeling good, Roy sat in the cell with his back against the wall. He notices Madison in the opposite corner. He thinks for a second that she’s asleep, but he can’t be sure. Whatever; good for her. Roy looks over to where Corbin is. He knows who he is, but he doubts he knows who Roy is. Unless he knows him as the kid that got them all caught. Whatever. Man, Roy really doesn’t care anymore, does he? He feels almost empty inside. Or at least he’s telling himself he does. He’s certain that as soon as he really starts to think about the whole thing, he’ll have another breakdown. 

Roy inhales and exhales slowly. It’s silent. Something’s making some sort of tapping somewhere, but that’s more irritating than it is comforting. He’s never been good at starting conversations. He isn’t sure Corbin even wants to talk. He can’t tell. But, hey, at this point, anything’s better than the awkward silence.] So, [Roy clears his throat] did anyone tell you how long we’ll be in these cells? Will it be like, just overnight, or like... [he shrugs. Wow, way to go, Roy, great conversation skills.] I dunno... Do you think it’ll vary depending on how much we pissed the chancellor off?

[Something’s up. Honor can practically smell it on people. She didn’t get the position she has by being oblivious to what’s happening around her.]

[If no one will tell her, fine. She’s never been one to beg. It’s still soured her mood after the party somewhat, and an objective observer might say some of that’s being transferred to her training sessions. Her trainees do seem a bit more inclined to bruising, and whinging about their bruises. But it’s not like she doesn’t participate in the ordeals she assigns, herself---rule number one, don’t ask them to do what you’re unwilling to do yourself---better and cooler than they can.]

[Still, she senses it, an imbalance---something’s got people nervous. A collectively held breath.]

[It’s a full two days after the party when she’s had it, and she corners someone, outside the training rink. Catching them away from the rest of the herd, Honor narrows in on her victim with laser-tight focus.]

Oy. That wristband, that black cloth thingy. I keep seeing people with them, all day. What’s it for. 

EVENT UPDATE: COL22FALLOUT WRAP UP 

Hey guys! 

Okay, so with this post we’ll officially open up the RP to beyond the week of after the Rebranded event!

So that means that you can of course continue old event threads, (but keep tagging them as usual etc) but we will no longer be starting new fallout specific threads. (If you need to for development purposes, please do so as a backdated/flashback thread and label as such!)

This also means that the timeline will be moving forward to the second week of November. The Timeline page will be updated as such :) Also, stay tuned for the new chore rotation that will be coming out now that we’re moving past the exile period etc! 

And a friendly reminder—any characters who were in correctional following the rebranded event, they will all have guards supervising their activities, chores and free time. They will have an escort to all their classes, and in their training and activities, a guard will be hanging back and keeping an eye on them at all times.... hahaha... good luck kids ;)

Great work on the event guys, and on all the plotting and interactions - you’re killing it team!