Happy Valentine's Day!

[piper90npcs]

Who: Rig workers and New Hires
What: Valentine's Day Events
Where: The Rig
When: Valentine's Day
Warnings/Notes: Violence likely.

A. Cupids aren't as cherubic as they appeared in Renaissance-era artworks. The little bastards float with the bodies of babies, but the huge, flatly reflective grey eyes of a cave-dwelling monster and the teeth of a viperfish when they open their mouths to deliver a hideous, staccato cackle. They flit around in the air in clumsy bursts with all of the grace of a concussed mosquito, only remaining upright half the time, but twice as hard to catch. That doesn't change the pinpoint accuracy of their aim, however, as they open fire with arrows of pyrite.

That's another difference in the myths. They don't target people and make them fall in love. They target lovers, or people with crushes, shoot to wound, and feed. Dozens of them careen drunkenly through the halls of the Rig, searching for people who are a little too obvious about their unspoken desire for affection. When caught, they squall like babies, then try to take a chunk out of their captor with their vicious mouths, opening far wider than a normal baby should be able to manage. Fortunately, they don't seem to be more durable than most babies, though their appearance and cries are enough to put off many Rig workers from a solution more permanent than trapping them in a closet or under a crate.

---

B. "It will be darling," Sharon says, smiling. "Do it." Despite the honeyed words of previous arguments, this time it's backed by steel. She smiles and casually knocks a cherub out of the air with a blast of rock salt, followed by a few vicious, but loving ('It's all about love,' she says. 'Jesus wants it that way.') strokes with the butt of her shotgun. "It's for morale, dear. Management thinks that it will help you all bond and realize that things aren't so bad here. You know, get you involved in some normal activities." She pauses, then whacks the little beast one more time. "...It twitched. Now, shoo. This box has all of the lace and paper you'll need. Even some gluesticks. But, please, be a dear and don't let Mac have too much paste. You know how he gets, bless his heart."

Yes, that's the official stance of Jorgmund. Mac can have a little glue, as a treat. On holidays. And, as promised, everything is there. Glue, pens, sparkly glitter, safety scissors, paper, and a load of candy message hearts, 'for inspiration'. There are even a few examples, addressed to Sam, to show the 'less fortunate' New Hires how to do it.

Of course, given that they're supposed to be doing it in between their regular chores and clearing out cherub corpses, Jorgmund doesn't exactly have high hopes. But an attempt is being made.

---

C. It was wheeled out from the darkest depths of collections. Large. Looming. Non-functional. It was only with much cajoling that they could even get Brainiac 5 to touch the thing, for reasons that become clear as soon as the computer boots up. It proudly proclaims itself to be property of Brainiac 5 and the Legion of Super Heroes, but not one that anyone here has ever been a member of.

They'd probably remember a computer dedicated to kissing, after all.

Yes, one of the public events planned for this year's Valentine's is finding the Perfect Smooching Partner, and Brainiac 5's Love Machine (Demands for rebranding were curtly refused) will help the world find their match... within the Rig, of course. When two people kiss, it tracks technique, passion, and the lighting of the brain's pleasure centers to rate their kiss on a scale of 1-100. Once everyone in a group has kissed at least one other partner, it collates the data collected and rearranges their images onscreen to show their true best match.

Security's already gotten involved and the only reason that the entire event hasn't been shut down is because there's money being passed around on who starts the next fight. Things have already gotten violent more than once and a Security officer's already been sent to Medical for a busted nose.

The New Hires aren't being forced to participate, but there's definitely a few very interested workers lined up, popping some breath mints, and straightening their shirts.

---

D. The banner reads "Speed Work-Appropriate Platonic Friendship/Networking" because, after all, relationships are forbidden by Jorgmund. Nevermind that half the crew is hooking up with each other, workers are expected to be married to the company, and the company is a jealous mistress. That doesn't stop some enterprising individuals from trying to make the most of the situation, as Mr. Sagittarius would undoubtedly cheerfully inform you if he could read these words. But since he can't, you don't have to imagine his smug little grin. Bonus.

Several tables have been laid out in rows, with lonely men and women seated at each one. These include several New Hires. The other side of the table seats include other workers, including several other New Hires, who get up and leave every eight minutes (Or ten posts), moving one seat down. The idea is that they'll take this time to bond with one another, find commonalities, and strike up a lifelong friendship. They've been offered a list of starter questions as possible starters, filled with corporate-approved humor that wouldn't make it into Reader's Digest.

One thing's clear, though. The people that haven't been forced into this, at least the Rig worker side anyway, are honestly extremely lonely people who are desperate for any connection that doesn't come from a plastic smile. After all, there's only about a thousand people on the Rig at any given time and many of them are stuck in jobs deep in the bowels of the machine that offer little chance for socialization. Even the workers that were married, grandfathered in before the harsher fraternization codes were put in place, rarely see their spouses or children aboard due to conflicting schedules.

Every now and then there's a gunshot from the background as someone takes another potshot at a cupid.

Comments

[infailtration]

[ It's not a baby, as far as York's concerned, no matter how it looks. And sounds. Oh god. It's trying to get back up -- he tries not to think about it being a baby when he brings his boot down on its neck. There's a sickening crunch, and it goes still, but the other one is still going for North.

York jumps onto the table to be able to reach it and grabs the thing by its wings. It screeches bloody murder at him with a mouth full of long teeth, fat little arms reaching toward his friend. ]

This kind of thing happen often around here?

[bothbarrels]

Well, we did just fight a shapeshifting—

[ His words are cut off when the cupid bites, but this time it had come at him in such an angle that he's able to grab it bodily with both hands. He slams it to the floor, spiking it like the football.

This doesn't defeat the cupid, however, and it begins to wail, its cry sounding like a strange mixture of its staccato laugh and real baby's cry. North's eyes are wide in horror once again. ]

[infailtration]

North!

[ The baby is clearly preparing itself to launch at him again, and York jumps down off the table onto it. Its cry is cut off by another horrible wet crunch and York steps back shakily, cradling the arm with the damaged shoulder. ]

Ugh... are you okay?

[bothbarrels]

[ He immediately grabs for York, putting an arm around his waist, more concerned about how his friend has fared than himself. Yes, the bites have taken out chunks of flesh, but York's bleeding into his shirt. ]

I'll be fine. Are you hurt?

[infailtration]

That was a deep bite.

[ He leans against North slightly, letting go of his arm to pull his shirt aside -- there's blood freely flowing from deep tears. ]

Might not be as bad as it feels, but I think we should both go to the infirmary.

[bothbarrels]

[ North sets a hand on the stinging feeling at the base of his ribs on one side and realizes he's also freely bleeding. ]

Yeah, I think we need some bandages. Goddamn.

[infailtration]

[ York follows North's gaze to see the wound on his friend, and hisses. ]

Let's go before one of us blacks out. Watch out, there are probably more of them outside.

[bothbarrels]

[ He nods and starts for the door, still with a hand around York's rib cage. ]

What the fuck caused that?

[ It's an idle thought, a rhetorical question. But the cupids had dived right for the two of them without hesitation, ignoring everyone else in the room. ]

[infailtration]

Stuff? I don't know, but they were definitely targeting us.

[ Which is. Really strange, and he doesn't know why it would be. ]

[bothbarrels]

[ There's more of the cupids in the hallways, but not too many, and they're all being fought by other people. North figures it's not too selfish to pass them on by as they bleed. ]

You don't suppose...?

[ He shakes his head. ]

Nah, never mind, it doesn't make any sense.

[infailtration]

[ York hustles, blood soaking his shirt quickly as they dodge past the fighting in the hall. ]

...what? Any idea's better than no idea.

[bothbarrels]

I just thought maybe the Counselor...

[ He huffs. ]

It still doesn't make any sense.

[infailtration]

You thought he sicced demon babies on us? I doubt it.

[ Especially since they're attacking other people, too. ]

I'm pretty sure this is rig-wide.

[bothbarrels]

For half a second I thought that.

[ They reach the medical bay, and North pushes York forward at the first medic who inquires about them. ]

He's worse off than me.

[ Which is debatable, considering North was bitten twice, but York's bite is deeper. ]

[infailtration]

Uhhh... I think we're the same level of worse.

[ He steps forward to where the medic indicates he should sit, though, relieved when he waves another worker forward for North. ]

You guys might want to keep the doors here closed, there are baby monsters flying around the halls.

[bothbarrels]

[ We're aware says the medic, and it does seem that they're being careful to close the door after everyone who's admitted.

North watches them bandage York, not paying much attention to his own bandaging, besides hissing in pain now and then when they touch him in the wrong way. ]

[infailtration]

[ York gets patched up, some stitches and a shot that he assumes is tetanus and antibiotics if not some kind of healing booster, and a sling for the next few days. He grimaces. You don't fight with medics, but he's going to have trouble fighting cherubs with one arm, too.

He cranes his neck to look at North when he hears another hiss. ]

You okay over there?

[bothbarrels]

I'm surviving it.

[ He's glad the wounds aren't any deeper, but there is flesh missing. They're going to leave some weird scars. ]

We ought to head back to your room after this.

[infailtration]

You sure we should go to the dorms? There are no doors on them.

[bothbarrels]

[ North stands, his bandaging having been finished. ]

You have a better idea? I want to lie down.

[infailtration]

Alright. Maybe we can barricade the door with the other bunk.

[bothbarrels]

Yeah, that'd be good. We'll just be stuck sharing one bed, is all.

[ Which isn't really an imposition on him, he's the bigger guy. ]

[infailtration]

Since when has that been a problem?

[ Their injuries are on opposite sides anyway, they'll be fine.

York hops down off the table and follows North to the door. ]

I wish we were allowed weapons on the rig, it'd make this much easier.

[bothbarrels]

You're telling me.

[ Things are slightly calmer this time as they make their way to the dorms, but only slightly. He's glad that everyone seems to be holding their own okay against the creatures, since they're not in much of a condition to make another stand. ]

[infailtration]

[ When they get back to York's room he immediately starts moving the other bunk towards the door -- even with one arm it's not all that heavy so it won't serve as much of a barricade, but the cherubs trying to get through will be an early warning system. ]

Help me put it on its end?