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]

[ 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?

[bothbarrels]

Yep.

[ He does so, and they shove it against the open doorway. ]

Hopefully nobody from the company sees that.

[infailtration]

I think we're got a good argument for why it's necessary right now.

[ It blocks most of the door, enough that a baby couldn't fly through, and that'll have to be good enough. York kicks off his boots and climbs into bed, lying on his good side facing out. North's scratches are on the side that'll be away from him, so at least he won't have to worry about bumping them if he shifts. ]

Come on.

[bothbarrels]

[ He lies down, the way York has left space for him to do. It's a little rough getting in the position, since he has a bite on his back and another on his front, but he manages. ]

This was not how I intended to spend my day.

[infailtration]

[ York makes a small, sympathetic expression as North settles on his side. ]

How's the pain?

[bothbarrels]

I know I've been injured worse before, but this really hurts.

[ Probably has to do with the ripping of flesh with teeth. ]

[infailtration]

Our suits manage our pain meds. And teeth don't exactly create clean wounds.

[ He's tired from the pain, himself. ]

We probably shouldn't sleep, in case they try to get in.

[bothbarrels]

You're right.

[ He huffs out a sigh. ]

Nothing much to do now. Goof off on the network, read a book...?

[infailtration]

I can't really hold a book right now. Let's see if anyone knows anything about what's going on out there?

[bothbarrels]

Yeah.

[ He gets on his device, noticing the post from Ian, but also immediately realizing he'd never seen his sister's response to earlier.

After engaging in some back-and-forth with her, he sets his device down on the cot. He's now intensely aware of how close he and York are lying together. ]

[infailtration]

[ York is chatting with Ian, but glances up when North sets his device down. ]

...what's up?

[bothbarrels]

Nothing. Nobody's posting on the network because they're too busy with the craziness, I think.

[ He'd already forgotten about seeing Ian's post. ]

[infailtration]

Somebody did -- he figured out what they're going after people for.

[ He turns his device so North can see his conversation. ]

Sounds pretty sure of himself, too. I guess you liked your alternate reality girlfriend more than you admitted to yourself.

[bothbarrels]

[ North feels conflicted, not wanting to steer York the wrong way, but not wanting to tell him outright what's really going on. He'd roll on his back, if he could, but he knows that first of all, it would hurt, and also that he would probably run out of room and fall out of bed. He can feel the tips of his ears turning red. Damn his pale skin, that happens far too easily.

Instead of agreeing, or saying anything useful or helpful, he just says: ]

I don't think it works that way for me.

[infailtration]

[ York turns the screen back, but doesn't reply to Ian again just yet. He's confused by North's answer. The blush makes sense, the words don't. ]

...what do you mean?

[bothbarrels]

I'm demi—it takes too long for that kind of thing with me.

I mean, I believed her story and all.

[ He pauses, then lets a little noise out, a little catch in his throat. Why is he even protesting so much? ]

It just doesn't...make sense.

[ He's looking into York's eyes now and he realizes that South's absolutely right. He's got it bad for York. He's had idle thoughts before, of course, about how handsome York is, at least aesthetically, how well-muscled, and what a great friend he is, but it never quite added up to this in his conscious thinking mind. Now that he knows, though? Now that he knows?

He does twist a little, then, to lie back just enough to stare at the ceiling. That shouldn't knock him out of bed. ]

I mean, you don't believe in love at first sight, do you?

[infailtration]

[ Love at first sight? York sets his phone down, thinking... no, he doesn't believe in it for himself, but-- ]

I've never felt it, I don't think. But I'm not going to rule it out entirely, either.