015} now look up, well the skies are black {and they're getting darker all the time}

[theresalwayshope]

[SPAM;VIDEO]

[When the scream rings out, Allison drops like a lead weight.

It's a sound she knows well, the banshee's howl. It's painful, it's terrible, and it's terrifying because she's helpless. She would fear a dupe, if she hadn't smelled Lydia personally, if she hadn't known her for the short time they ran together...

As it is, she can't think of anything. The scream won't allow for it.

She regains awareness in the middle of the earthquake and the dark, confused and terrified and totally without direction.

Something breaks. The dark is endless.

Then...it's over.

Blinking against the sudden light, Allison flinches at the assault of new sights and sounds. She's in a room she doesn't know...a living room space, warm and neat yet lived in.

Her nostrils flare, sorting through the scents: human (Allison), rabbit, hay. There's gun oil, lead and gunpowder (bullets), the distant smells of cosmetics and breath mints and old traces of her father's aftershave. Turning in a slow circle, she spots pictures on one wall, photos of her...and on the coffee table, she takes note of a folding combat knife sitting next to some magazines.

Reaching out, she picks it up...flicks it open, then shut again.

All clues point to this space...belonging to her somehow, but there are weapons in it.

Tucking the knife into the back of her jeans, she fumbles in her pockets, looking for her comm. Finding it, her hands shake as she flicks it on, her face filling the feed a moment later. The fear is open on her features...and those that know Allison Argent well, as well as those who met her in the arena, may note enough differences in her demeanor to determine that something's very wrong.]

Everyone in the pack, please check in...I think there's something wrong.

[Allison kills the feed, then puts her comm back in her pocket, venturing cautiously out of her cabin. The doors in the corridor are familiar, but somehow wrong...

The number on the door matches. The infirmary is just down the hall. There is no question in her mind, this is her cabin. If not for the strange doors and the absence of her old room at home behind her door, she'd have sworn this was her Barge.

But, as she goes cautiously investigating the different levels of the ship (excluding warden areas at first, because she obviously doesn't have access), she slowly comes to realize that she's not where she belongs.

This ship is not the Barge she knows.]

Comments

[spam]

[walkingmeltdown]

[This cannot be happening. All he wanted to do was...revel in the fact that he was back, that he was 'home', or what passes for one anyway, the safer and saner place comparatively. The storm had hit, they had weathered it, and he was relieved to know that now everything was going to be all right.

All he wanted to do was go to his bed and sleep.

But this is the second person he's heard about in under half an hour not being who they're supposed to be. Looks like there's not going to be any sleep for him tonight.

He heads to where he knows Allison's floor is, as fast as he can, because if she and Stephanie Brown aren't the only ones who knows who else has been flip-flopped over. He doesn't want the wrong person getting hurt; her, or anybody else he might prefer she left...undamaged.

Rounding the corner he spots her finally on Level 4 and he skids to a halt, belatedly realizing she might see a glowing figure and shoot first ask questions later.]

Miss Argent? It's me. The one you met in the arena, not...the other one. The one that you're typically used to.

[He comes closer more slowly hands partially raised.]

Do you have any idea what's happening? How it is you've ended up on our Barge?

[spam]

[theresalwayshope]

[When she spots the distant, glowing figure on Level 4, her eyes are already glowing and fangs bared when she spots him, a low growl rising from between her lips. It rolls quietly as her nostrils flare, head tilting...smelling, listening...

She lets him draw closer, and when she's sure of what she's smelling...truth and agitation, but far less of the reek of death and disease...she swallows, fangs receding as the light in her eyes dies, leaving her looking for all the world like a frightened child despite the wary hope shining in her eyes.]

M-Mister Powers?...

[She blinks, confusion and animal fear derailing her thought processes. She shakes her head briskly, not unlike a dog clearing an itch, then shakes it more slowly...no, she doesn't know what's happening.

The wolf is howling in her head, raging...her heart rate is skyrocketing.

Shutting her eyes, she straightens with a deep breath, lips moving quietly over the mantra she trusts to keep her in control.]

Three things cannot long be hidden...the sun, the moon, the truth...three things can not long be hidden, the sun, the moon, the truth...three things cannot long be hidden...the sun...the moon...the truth...

[spam]

[walkingmeltdown]

[Oh boy. This is not looking good. But he relaxes somewhat as she listens to him, as that growl and the flash in her eyes start to recede. At least there won't be a misunderstanding, at least she isn't going for his throat. There's a knot of anxiety in him though that isn't going away.

When she closes her eyes he hesitates but then keeps moving closer. Unhurried steady steps. He's still wearing the clothes and weapons he had on him in the arena, the gear he slept in, was rained on and rolled in the mud in, no doubt smelling distinctly of the outdoors and grass and dirt besides his own unique characteristic smell of...toxic ozone. He's more human and not as powered as her Blight, but he's still radioactive in his physiology. There is no changing that.

He's close enough to touch but leaves room for her to pull away if he's crowding her. The last thing he needs is her misreading and panicking because he's in her bubble.]

It's all right. I'm here. Take all the time that you need.

[freezerburns]

What's wrong? Allison-- [He's trying so hard not to get caught up in all the memories of that other him, that whole other life - the taste of his dad's blood between his teeth, how that version of him got his blue eyes, the... thing he'd had with Erica, the way he'd hated that other Allison Argent--

Okay, no. No. He's putting it aside, putting it away and he's not going to think about it. Compartmentalise, right? But he's so tangled up by it all that he manages to be completely oblivious and not notice it's not quite his Allison. She sounds off and he's not watching the video so much as listening to it. And in all fairness, it's not that surprising that someone might seem a little unlike themselves after something like that?]

Where are you? I'll come find you.

[theresalwayshope]

[The voice that comes on the comm chills her blood...but it's like everything else, it's wrong. It's not quiet and cocky and cold, it's nuanced and gentle and...soft, rubs through her ears like warm satin, sweet and soothing.

But she knows that voice, so she doesn't trust it.]

Show me your eyes, Lahey. [Her tone is commanding, sharp but quiet...but it's not Allison's drill sergeant tone. It's more the warm, firm note that he might hear from Scott, nuanced in its own right but brooking absolutely no argument.]

[termofendearment]

Careful, sweetheart, fear kills.

[theresalwayshope]

[At the sound of Tig's voice, Allison relaxes infinitesimally, peering at him through the feed with a critical eye. Seeing him, oddly enough, actually does make the fear more bearable because he's pack now, and he wasn't entirely untrustworthy in the arena.

It's actually something of a comfort.]

Tig? Is it...y'know, you?

[maced_eggs]

[Mason, irregularly for him, is angry.

This isn't the Barge he knows, either. He wakes in an unfamiliar room, with an unfamiliar rabbit instead of his own pet.

But he spots someone he knows - someone to interrogate.

With a scowl, Mason rushes for Allison, grabbing her by the neck and hoisting her up to the wall to pin her there. In his other hand, he holds a tiny brown bunny by the scruff of its neck. The bunny wriggles, terrified out of his tiny mind, while Mason stuffs him in Allison's face]

You'd like to explain this, then?

[theresalwayshope]

[Allison catches his scent just before he appears. She's so off-balance that it slows her reaction time, and before she knows it she's choking, pinned to the wall and terrified with a rabbit in her face...the smell of fresh prey, and not enough breath to howl for help...

When she felt her control falter, Allison let it slip away.

She shifted in his grip, features distorting and eyes bleeding feral gold with a strangled roar. Clawed hands moved, one snatching at the tiny bunny in his hand to try and get it away from him, the other grabbing the wrist at her throat, claws sinking into skin as she tried to break his grip.

And, in lieu of that, she lashed out with one foot, ramming it against his chest as hard as she could in an effort to free herself.]

[ video ]

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ He remembers those last moments a little differently than Allison, having not heard the scream. For him, it was all sucking winds and darkness. Having been pulled into that awful, dark door way. Only to pop awake here. At first, his face against the dirt, he'd assumed he was still outside somewhere. But the air was too stale.

He was on his feet, scrambling away from the dirt into the furnished part of the cabin, staring around in horror before he heard Allison's voice from his pocket. He flicked it on. ]

Something's definitely wrong...

[ Behind him, she would be able to see a desk piled with books. An old, gray tapestry hung above it. What she couldn't see is what lay before him. It looked like someone had smashed out the sleeping area of his old cabin, and replaced it with a vampire lair. There were other things wrong, but that kind of had all of his attention right now. ]

[ video ]

[theresalwayshope]

[The room behind him is wrong, wrong as everything else...but it's Jerry, and something tight in Allison's chest eases. It makes letting go of fear easier, makes her feel stronger somehow...stronger with every passing second.]

Okay, stay put. I'll come to you...it'll be okay, Jer. I promise.

video

[godsays]

Allison.

video

[theresalwayshope]

[Seeing Zane, Allison's eyes start glowing, a low, warning growl trilling in the back of her throat. She's fortunate enough that she's avoided any truly lasting contact with the man, but she's aware of what he's capable of...and she's clinging to control by a thread with her heart racing and a relentless wrongness stalking her around every corner.

And seeing Zane...it's not helpful.]

What do you want?

Video

[shattered_reflection]

[ A smirking pleased face greets her. Granted he's not gotten to his room yet.]

Hey babe, Everything cool? Calling your girls together sounds pretty big. [ He know's the pack has a few guys but he's a jerk to be a jerk.]

Video

[theresalwayshope]

[She recognizes the face...but it's the cocksure one she knows, not the sober and dignified expression of the man in the arena, and something in Allison twists painfully with sorrow. It's not that the Vergil she knows is a bad person...but the Vergil she met in the arena was...he was different. She liked him and how much he reminded her of the new arrival, his brother Dante.

With a sigh, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head.]

I don't know if you noticed, Vergil, but this isn't our boat...I'm sorry, I don't have time to flirt.

Spam

[with_my_teacup]

[The cafeteria smells like comfort food. And Riddick is all wrong-- to the wolves it will be more obvious than anyone. The lethargic zoo-animal sullenness that is mirror Riddick is nowhere in evidence, and the man putting out cheese biscuits looks like he's comfortably in control of the space around him.]

Spam

[theresalwayshope]

[She's drawn to the dining hall by smells that make her stomach growl and her chest ache: good, fresh food, piping hot and bringing to mind images of home and safety.

She shuffles in, uncertain but far calmer after sorting out a few things. It's force of habit to expect a warden to appear at any given moment...perhaps to keep her from eating, hoping hunger will drive her to hunt, or keeping her away from the meat that will give her some respite from the beast, make her weak and edgy and irritable enough for a possible transformation that could lead to the loss of innocent life.

She wants to run for the biscuits Riddick is laying out. They smell wonderful...but she moves lazily, cautious but not overtly so. She carefully selects a tray, moves to grab a biscuit...but she can't resist taking a bite on the spot. The taste is perfect, and she can't help but smile, keeping the biscuit clutched in her hand as she glances up at Riddick to comment...

...but something isn't right. When she tests the air, it's alive with chemosignals, strong and easy to read. He moves like an animal himself, easy and in command of his domain. It's...

She has to take a deep, steadying breath as her eyes tear with joy at seeing him so vibrant. She doesn't know him well, she's only ever wanted to protect him and those like him since the day she arrived...but this man doesn't need protecting, and it's almost too much for her frayed nerves.]

You belong here. You're the Riddick of this ship, aren't you?

[Private Video]

[lydiascreams]

[She's seen her message a few hours ago, but she wanted to check in on a couple of people before reaching out to her. By the time she does, she's ready for her to not be her Allison.]

Allison? It's Lydia. Not-- Martin.

A bunch of people from your Barge are here. You need to be careful who you talk to.

[Private Video]

[theresalwayshope]

[Hearing Lydia's voice...not the Lydia of her own Barge, but the Lydia she's already thinking of as hers, her friend, her pack...allows the last of her fear to bleed away, leaving only the restless apprehension of how wrong the world is, how it unsettles her beast.]

It's okay, Lydia. You don't have to be scared...I won't let anyone hurt you.

[She pauses, then extends her claws. In the feed, where Lydia can see, she uses her thumb claw to puncture her fingertip, a single drop of blood welling forth.

She wipes it away...and the tiny wound is already gone.

Giving Lydia's image her attention, Allison's smile is awestruck, barely restrained joy and gratitude combined.]

Because no one can hurt me.

[Her powers are back...but she's secretly afraid if she says the words out loud, the Admiral could hear and take them away from her again. She can heal, she can fight...

She needs those things if she's going to protect her pack in this strange new world.]

[shieldcatchesyou]

[Bucky is not out of his league, but this is going to require more work than he anticipated. His counterpart is smart, and wouldn't just barrel into things without thinking about it, and he is, too, so he's been tracking the network, watching people, trying to act as normally as possible.

So when Allison spots him outside the library, he looks... more or less the same as usual. Normal Bucky, usual anyway. The cautious smile he gives her is a lot different from the sneer he'd usually throw at her.]

Hey.

[theresalwayshope]

[Allison stops dead in her tracks when she sees him, but the smile does throw her off a little. She's not totally sure how much to trust scent...fear on the other ship is a good indicator of who's who, and this is no longer a case of warden versus inmate: it's a ship of doppelgangers.

She is, however, the eternal optimist. She wants this to be the other version, the better man she spoke to in the arena, so fiercely worried about his people, so she takes a couple more steps forward, expression hopeful.]

...Bucky?

[semifreakingnormal]

[They're not on the right Barge. Scott snarls when he realizes, turning around in his room when he returns to consciousness. The bed is where it's supposed to be. The posters, the television. He's not sure where the Playstation 4 came from, not sure about the absence of certain smells. He smells some of his people, but not all of them. It's not all right. A growl builds in his throat, and he grabs for the communicator, looking for some hint.

He finds Allison instead.

Another growl leaves as he listens to her message, replays it. Replays a kiss in the back of his mind, replays everything she said while he wasn't himself. He wants to rip her apart. He wants to be the man she looks at like that, totally in awe and in love and he still wants to rip her throat out. His hand is tight on the communicator, and when he speaks, its with a growl, and fangs, and power.

He doesn't know he's only got an hour to feel like himself.]

You think?

[theresalwayshope]

[Allison's eyes light for a moment with hope...a tenuous thread of it, a desperate prayer that maybe it's not him. Maybe it's the one who proved it could happen, that she could find her power and protect everything she cares about, everything she stands for.

But it's not Scott. It's him.

Grief dims the light of hope, but she swallows hard, refusing to let it die. Tears brighten her eyes, making them glitter as they begin to glow gold with the quaking whisper of his name.]

McCall...

Spam

[voluntaryapnea]

[He knows, immediately, when he spots her in the stairwell as he's heading up the steps that she's the Allison from his barge and not the one from this barge. They're both out of place here, but he's hated her for so long that his guard automatically raises. She could out him. Easily. She has no reason not to. Except maybe she does. Maybe her reason for not outing him matches his reason for not attacking her on sight.]

Allison.

Spam

[theresalwayshope]

[Allison smells him just before she sees him...and despite her new status as a warden, despite having her powers back, she still feels afraid. That fear reflexively lights her eyes feral gold, has a growl rolling from deep in her chest...

She has to think of Lydia to force herself to stop. She has to remember that she's not at his mercy anymore. He can't hurt her...he might even be an inmate. And if he is, this Barge is different.

Here, it's her obligation to help him.

So she forces the wolf back with a few deep breaths, smooths her features into calmer lines, and nods by way of greeting.]

Hello, Stilin--Stiles.