Rooms

I do not understand how I came to be in this place, or how I can see others' words on here.

[locked to sam a.]

What the fuck is Louis [...] Hey.

Who: Eddie, Steph
Where: Gotham Farmers Market
When: this weekendish
What: shopping for fresh organic food but also a break down
Warnings: panic attack, PTSD stuff

( Clutching Eddie’s arms with fingers turning white from tautness, she looked up at him with panicked eyes, still ducking down like she was waiting for another bomb to go off. )

[Comm to Stephanie Brown]
[Sunday night, very late. Eddie's not home. Mysterious! Ping, ping!]

[Under the cover of the night sky and despite the forewarning, the first Marauders begin to arrive in ships as varied as they are. Some are metal balls, others shaped more like skiffs and augmented by shields to keep an atmosphere within, others still are a mix of plane like vehicles, but all appear to be too small for interstellar travel. As Thor had said, ships made for the surface with larger ships waiting outside of Earth's atmosphere. They come with the practiced ease of people that have done this many times before.

Some ships land in parks, others in alleys, roadways, anywhere large enough for them to fit. And as soon as they are down, the Marauders are out, taking anything that could be of value: food, jewelry, weapons, people. Those stores wise enough to have grates on their windows to render anyone unable to enter soon found themselves on fire, a fate that some ransacked stores shared.

The first public reports come from people on the street, taking pictures and videos with their phones. The first responders begin to move out across the city.]

Who: Anyone in the Marvel door + any invited parties/anyone that stumbles in
What: Marauders invasion
Where: Marvel Door, New York City
When: NOW
Warnings/Rating: Violence. Please mark in subject lines where your character is (i.e. Times Square, Broadway, etc)

[Thor made a point of keeping the skies clear until the first ship appeared, the dark hull blotting out the stars that should be seen in that area of space. He grinned and swung Mjolnir around slowly, storm clouds gathering overhead before the night was lit by lightning, outlining the many descending ships.

A bellow, a war cry, and then he was in the air.]

[Right after this, in a messy scrawl of smeared graphite: Locked to Selina K]
City's under attack. Aliens called Marauders. Pillagers and slavers. Could use you for when Banner needs to come back down at the end. Ground support. If you want to help, now's the time. Stark has a secure comm.

[Gwen S]

[After seeing the post.]

Stay here.

I kind of miss Las Vegas. For all the mess that it was, at least it was familiar and comfortable.

Also wondering what people back there are saying about the lot of us that just disappeared. Old coworkers. People we saw regularly. How do they explain our disappearance?

Marvel needs help. All aboard!

Who: Maggie D and Shane A and open to anyone who wants to wander in.
What: Introductions and the 411 on how to live in zombie-land.
When: First light.
Warnings: Shane's mouth.

She had a motherfucker of a crick in her neck. It had been a couple months since she'd slept in her car. There had been no hits on the google-alert she'd set up for the boys (they'd get themselves into trouble, she knew it, but where they got themselves into trouble was the difference between settling in and getting the warm fuzzies over San Fran or hitting the road, burned rubber and a cleared out rental apartment in the rear-view) in long enough to get comfortable. Bed-comfortable. Pillows, blankets, the kind of stretch-out and sleep that came when the only thing bugging her had been making the receipts in the bar add up right.

When Maggie came-to, the light was clean, bright. It had heat in it, not much but the damp mugginess associated with thunderstorms and the kind of day a dog would lay down and pant over. The wheel had grooved ridges into her cheek; she wished for coffee, a split-second of scoping out the next spot to get some before the night-before ground itself into reality with the gun lying across the passenger seat, blunt and ugly and real.

The sedan wasn't making a lot of noise as it drove up the track toward the prison. Low-profile, but the sun glinting off the windshield, picking out the pale paint made it a beacon as the tires crunched over dirt. It was being driven slowly, like the woman behind the wheel had her hands wrapped tight around the wheel not because she was being dropping speed to idle, but because she was waiting for another thing to come out. The prison walls were apparent from a while away but close to, they were cracked cement and safety, her heart slowing in her chest. One of those walls was a hell of a lot more than her car window in between her and one of the things.

The car nudged forward, right up to the gate.

( Log: Alice/Hatter, cut to save f-list )

[text to wren h.]

Where are you??