bakerstreet | Stuck in this elevator.

[ Asura takes up a lot of real estate in the elevator, being 7'. But he's doing his best not to, leaning up against the corner. Wearing a distinctive hoodie, casting a shadow over the upper half of his face, he nods along to music, wired headphones going into the darkness.

When the elevator comes to a shuddering stop, the lights flickering and a loud crash somewhere, he tugs one of the wires and pop he has a free ear. ]

Huh? Did you say something?

[ Probably on her way home after a long day and gets stuck after running errands! ]

Edited 2023-03-31 23:05 (UTC)

[Normally he took the stairs whenever possible. It was more time-consuming, but considering how his long stride, Yuki would make it to the right floor quickly enough. It is the healthier option, physically. It was also better than being trapped inside a box that often put his head too close to the ceiling and with too many enclosed around him. Stairwells could also be small, but being in motion helped ease the tension he felt from it.

So when the stairs in his apartment building are blocked due to repairs and he has to take the elevator, he's dreading it. His only luck today seems to be the lack of people waiting at the same time he is. That luck runs out when he sees a man already waiting by the elevators.

There's a soft bell when the elevator arrives and the doors open. Is he really going into the elevator at the same time? Wonderful.]

Excuse me.

( Camping in front of an elevator all day is actually the worst. Waiting around for one specific guy was definitely not in the definition of 'cool' in Abel's book but he couldn't exactly refuse either. The one he only knew as Yuki had a connection to a particular demon that he had to poke his nose further into.

Seeing the guy finally begin to approach, he didn't outwardly look like a threat. From the looks of it, the sound of counting sheep would probably have this guy down and out for the count. )

Excuse me.

( Abel innocently takes a slight step to the side closer to the elevator's outer buttons, secretly running his hand over the panel before he takes a step into the the elevator with the other man. As he waits for the door to close, Abel stands far away from Yuki at first towards one of the walls. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket as the doors finally close and the elevator begins its descent.

But its only a few seconds later, as Abel tries his best to light his faulty lighter, does the elevator come to a slow stop. All according to plan. Abel plays it off as casually as he can. )

Ah hell. You wouldn't happen to be an engineer, would you? Think you can fix it?

[ Currently voice testing. Can do any canon point. Probably on the way to an important meeting, either top secret and/or military related. ]

Edited 2023-04-01 12:12 (UTC)

((info/permissions!))

[ Since he came to this generic panfandom jamjar, Linhardt has spent a lot of time researching everything he can get his hands on in the library. Unfortunately, outsiders in the city, pulled from other worlds, are limited to living in two joined skyscrapers, so everything from the laundromat to the laboratory to the martial arts dojo is only accessible by the same block of elevators. He lives in the dorms on the lower floors, but the library is all the way up on the fiftieth!

Linhardt still isn't used to living in a building taller than three storeys, so he stands very still and quiet when he enters, clutching his borrowed books to his chest, and ignoring anyone else who gets on. But his eyes widen in fright when the elevator shudders to a stop. ]

[Irene's still not used to the generic panfandom jamjar. In certain respects it's not the strangest place she's been in, yes, but everyone looks so...strange. Like the guy who walked into the elevator. He lacks the ears of an Asian, or the tail of a Lupo, and his skin's obviously too dry to be an Ægir. He lacks a Caprinae's horns, or a Sankta's wing.

What is he? Irene doesn't know and there's no good way of asking what type of human is he. So she's content to keep quiet as they head up and then the-]

Ah!

[-elevator shudders to a stop.]

Strange. I didn't know this could happen...

[It's almost as if there's a generic panfandom jamjar event going on outside, huh? She pushes the call button.]

...

[No response. Weird. Kind of concerning.]

[ Darn these generic panfandom jamjar events, why must they happen on a monthly or bimonthly basis?

Linhardt still hasn't spoken to his elevator companion, but he doesn't seem to trust that she's pressed the help button right, so he moves over and punches it himself a few more times. It's always been a reassurance that even if something went wrong there was a helpful telephone button to reach someone who could do something about it — so of course the first time that he needs to use it he gets absolutely no response.

His usual sleepy demeanor has given way to tension in his neck and wrists, a downward pull of his mouth. ]

This is bad. This is really quite bad.

[ He glances at the little screen with the floor number above the door: it's much higher than he'd like. And aren't there basement levels too? That's a long drop. And all that is keeping them from it is this tiny malfunctioning metal box. ]

Hey, hello?

[ Maybe hitting the button another ten times will help? His breath is coming audibly faster now. ]

[Irene's first thought is wow! That's rude. She's still used to carrying an Inquisitor's privilege and an Inquisitor's power, and while she had set those aside to do what's necessary, the lack of them...it's like armor. She'd set aside armor and felt naked and vulnerable as a result.

But, even in the semi-dark: her companion's tense. It's obvious. He's pushing the button like he expects something to happen, instead of what they've been getting which is absolutely nothing. Irene straightens her shoulders, catches his arm, and tries to smile.]

Everything will be alright.

[Of note, she doesn't say this like some innocent girl reassuring someone-or-another that, through the power of love and friendship, justice will prevail. Instead, she says it like she's someone with authority, a knight reassuring the people before she goes off to arrest someone. (Even if she'd be very confused if the comparison came up as she associates knights with professional sports and aggressive dubstep.)]

If no one is responding, that means something probably happened to them. [Obviously.] If we're lucky, they just had to step outside for a moment and they'll be back soon.

[You know, elevator techs need bathroom breaks too.] And if not, they're busy with something else, but it shouldn't take too long if that's the case. [Right???] Either way, pressing the button only means we're more likely to break it before someone learns we're in here.

[ Linhardt responds well to authority, so that firm declaration and logical reasoning are highly effective. His anxiety doesn't fully subside, of course, but he steps back from the button and takes a deep breath. ]

Yes. You're right. Besides... whether it's one elevator or all of them, the people who need to use it will notice it stopped. So people will work to fix it.

[ People here can do all sorts of magical things; while Linhardt needs to be able to see the end location to teleport someone with a spell, there are others who could probably just pop in here with them. It's exactly the kind of fascinating thing he's been reading about in the library.

Another careful breath, making sure not to think about the little box dangling over empty space, and he steps back to lean against one wall. ]

I guess we're stuck here until then. It's nice to meet you, I'm Linhardt.

[ He has titles and stuff but no interest in using them. ]

[She has titles, and is used to using them in the same way one would flash a badge at security when trying to get from Point A to Point B: none of them are really valid here, so, there's not really a point in getting into them.]

I'm Irene. It's nice to meet you too.

[And now, see.

This is an opportunity. They're talking. Linhardt was/is(?) clearly rattled and could probably use a distraction. She has a question that she wants answers to, but there's really no good way of asking it in the day to day. There's jamjar issues to take care of and more important things to want to know the answer to.

It's also a very dumb question. But that's fine.]

I hope you don't mind me asking, but there's something that's been really bugging me and I really need to ask someone. What...are you? You're human, obviously, but...

[Irene has feathers growing out of her head, two black tufts curving like horns, but unless someone gets up close and personal to check it's likely easy enough to write them off as strange hair decorations.]

I know it's a rude question but I've never really had anyone I could ask before.

Edited (Words, rip) 2023-04-02 20:23 (UTC)

He should have taken the stairs. The city has declared a state of emergency, he's getting the hell out of dodge as soon as he gets to his car, everyone is panicking and he should have taken the goddamn stairs. But when you work 80 hours a week on the 16th floor of a building you get into certain habits, and stairs climbing isn't it. So he'd taken the elevator and been mildly surprised when there was only one other person already on board.

And now they're stuck.

"Well, shit."

There are timetables, and tasks to run down, and the city quietly and soon not so quietly losing its shit doesn’t change that. Equipment needs to move from one point to another. Personnel must be placed, and given orders. The clients must be pacified, and fed reassuring lines of equal gentleness and the cold certainty of a brutal end.

Thus: she moves through the city even as the walls close in, and she does not run. She walks, eyes ahead, and she does not stop until her task is complete.

Or until the elevator grinds to a halt. There’s someone else there, a suit, and she assesses him silently—and in a new light, now that she’s stuck in proximity. Well, shit.

Indeed.

She rolls her shoulders and hits the fall button, in the meantime. Utterly practical. She’s dressed in the black unfurl, Pope’s uniform, but it doesn’t say police or—directly—military. Around here, it almost passes for regular security. A smokescreen. Useful for their purposes.

But, of course, the call button does nothing.

He takes her for security at first. They contract with a company that does what most security firms do: a whole lot of nothing. He has never bothered to memorize the faces or names of the men and women who sit on a stool and watch the cameras, and even if he had tried, the turnover rate is too great.

That and they impact his life not at all.

But now he's trapped with one so he looks up from his phone (which is trying to call the main desk but not going through), and he looks her in the face and he smells

gun oil?

He doesn't handle guns much himself but there is a certain unforgettable tang to it. It makes her more interesting than sitting here waiting for his phone to get enough bars to call someone.

He thinks about stupid elevator talk, and decides to just ask, "What are you still doing in the building? I thought they sent you all home."

She doesn't look at him directly, focused instead on the dials and considering whether it's more prudent to wait, or try to pry the doors open and risk breaking her neck to climb back out. Time is a factor, now more than usual.

"I don't work here," she murmurs, stepping back to examine the ceiling. Whether she could boost herself up and go that way, or if the doors are the better option.

Time: always a factor. Tic tock, tic tock. Bad things are going to happen soon.

She doesn't work here. She was here on business, ensuring a few of their remaining contracts will hold - for at least another twelve hours or so. It might matter, might not. They'll see.

"Do you?" she adds after a moment, because polite nothings have a way of making people talk about themselves and she'd rather not talk about what she's doing here, or why.

His name is on the building, but he's abandoning ship like everyone else so he scoffs faintly. "No one works here anymore. Including," another jab at the call button. "The engineers."

He puts his phone back in his pocket and looks up at the ceiling. There's a service hatch up there, but he's never done this. It can't be like the movies, can it?

He looks at her. "Can you climb?"

Another problem in a long line of them. There's no use in complaining or feeling sorry for herself about the situation, so Leah doesn't bother. She just rolls her neck, preparing for what inevitably must come next.

"I can climb," she agrees, because she can, and this is what has to happen. She cannot be stuck in this place when the timetable escalates. Not when the squad is waiting on her, relying on her. "You're going to boost me."

It's not a question. If he grabs her ass in the process, she'll deal with it later.

"Yeah," he agrees. He's tall, and the hatch is locked and he knows it, but the hatch is made of thin metal and he's strong. Inhumanly strong. He punches through it like puncturing cardboard, tears it down.

"Ready?" He won't grab her ass, though he doesn't make any special moves not to if it means getting her up there faster.

What happens next is strange, the sort of strange that sends a twitch of something anxious and coiled tight in between her shoulder-blades, but Leah doesn't recoil as he punches directly through the hatch like it's nothing. It's comic book bullshit, the sort that Austin devours no matter how much the others tease him for it. But it happens, and she needs to get out.

That makes it simple. There's really no time to question the obvious. She just gives the man a measured look, and nods.

He boosts her up. He doesn't grab her ass more than he has to, and she hauls herself up. Once she's centered, she drops a hand down to pull him up just the same.

He takes her hand even though he could haul himself up alone. He's going to need her help to get out of here, probably, and he's already made her wary.

He crouches on the top of the elevator and looks up. It's all darkness there, but there's a door up there they can force open. Get out a floor above, take the stairs down.

He looks back at the woman and quirks an eyebrow. "Hell of a way to start the weekend. I'm Lark, by the way."

It's an uncomfortably long drop, but worrying about falling and breaking her neck doesn't change that reality, so she doesn't dwell on it. They'll have to climb.

She inclines her head slightly. "Leah."

She could introduce herself as Shaw, but that begs certain questions.

"Do you know how to climb?"

If he's going to slip and make a nuisance of himself, she'd rather know now. She might have to help him.

He makes a little sound in his throat that's half dismissal and half dismay. "Not since climbing the rope in gym class in the 80's, but I'll figure it out. Muscle memory probably lasted all these years. The hard part is going to be getting to that door up there. Any ideas?"

"You can freehand it. There's a crack, see?"

She can freehand it, courtesy of a childhood spent climbing trees and boulders, climbing anything to get away. Sometimes, the obvious metaphors lead to practical skills. She can climb, she can hunt, she's the one who survives because she's the one who knows when to cut and run, and when to fight to the death. Metaphorically. Otherwise. Whatever the moment demands.

"I'll steady you," she continues, in the instructor voice, the one she's pulled with the boys and girls when they're new and green, when they don't know enough to realize how wrong a thing could go. If he falls, he's done. But he won't fall, her tone says. It's not even a consideration, her tone says. "Ready?"

Didn't he just luck out, he thinks, appraising her. He could have been stuck in the lift with Doug, a man so claustrophobic he shivers if a car is too small.

"Ready," he agrees. He won't fall, he won't let himself die somewhere as stupid as an elevator shaft. The world is going to hell outside, and his pack is waiting. So he grabs the elevator cable and tries to remember how this works and he puts muscle into it and he climbs.

He sets himself to it like he knows - or at least believes - there's no way he could fall. Whether that's her instructor voice playing its part or something in him that's aimed toward success, she can't say. It doesn't matter anyway. Lark climbs, and she reaches up to steady him until she can't anymore, until he's high enough he'll have to reach out and freehand the rest. Or fall, and break his neck, and be of no use to anyone.

"Like that," she encourages, because what else is there to do? He's a person and she's seen too many people die, but ultimately a stranger to her.

Still. He is a person, and part of her quietly, brutally, wants him to make it. He will make it, she decides, as she sets herself to the task and climbs after him. He fucking will.

He reaches the right floor, climbs parallel to the door, but here he has no idea how to hang on and also pry the doors open. "Fuck," he breathes, and looks down at her. He has no fear of heights, fortunately for him.

"Now what? How do I-?"

“I’m going to climb up next to you, and steady you,” she replies. And it might be a stupid plan but there is no time for anything else, anything better, so she commits. She keeps her voice calm, matter-of-fact.

Time is a factor. There’s no room to doubt.

So, she climbs. And she grabs him by the collar, even though it means she’s only got one hand to steady herself and her arms ache with the exertion. It needs to be done.

So, it is.

He isn't used to needing to be steadied. He makes a mental note: after this? He's going to learn to climb better.

And with her help he leans out, and he isn't sure this would work if he was alone, despite all that lycanthropic strength he has. But he pries the door open and reveals an elevator lobby just like the one on his floor.

"Okay-" Just the last lurching fear of heights to overcome, to haul himself out to freedom.

He could leave her. He doesn't. He turns when he's securely on the marble tiles and he holds out his hands to her.

[It's always something. That's what he gets for staying in shitty apartment buildings while on the run from the law. It's what he deserves, really. The day had been long and tiring, and all he wanted to do was get up to the third floor and try to get some sleep. It probably wouldn't come--not without the price of another nightmare or two--but it was the idea that counted. The act of falling onto a mattress and laying in the dark for a few hours staring at the ceiling like it would reveal all the answer to the universe.

Nothing but a pipe dream at this point in time. He sighed softly from his corner of the elevator. His eyes darted to the other occupant briefly. He wondered if she felt the same, or had other things on her mind. He rolled his head back and leaned into the side of the carriage. Either the power would come back on soon, or he might start climbing. The maintenance hatch wouldn't be that hard to pop as far as he was concerned.]

[ Given the choice, Leah wouldn't be here at all. Cities set her teeth on edge, the noise of them grating against her every waking moment and people - so many people so close, and loud, and she can never quite settle knowing she cannot possibly keep track of them all. But choice is a relative metric at the best of times and her momma always said to make the best of it. Rise above and keep your chin up. Momma was a Narcissist, Leah knows now, and now she's dead, but some of the advice hit true.

Make the best of it. And keep your chin up.

She's here because someone has to maintain their intelligence networks and Mancea's having one of his fits and Carver has a habit of pissing strangers off t-minus three minutes from first contact - kind of impressive, if you think about it. If it weren't fucking up the timetables. So, she's here, because someone needs to be and Leah's never had the luxury of losing her shit on a stranger like that's not going to have goddamn consequences. This has to be done, so she gets it done.

Or would be, except for the elevator - and the man in the corner.

He's big, she notes clinically. But he moves quiet, and he moves smooth, and that makes him dangerous.

Not the best situation, being stuck in a confined space with a man like that.

She eyes him, rolls her shoulders, and then checks her phone. Nothing.

Well, then. ]

You have a signal?

Edited 2023-04-02 14:33 (UTC)

[His eyes peek open, or were never fully closed to begin with perhaps, at her question and he gazes at her silently. It's not like going for the phone would make this end anymore quickly. Even if they contacted someone it never made maintenance move any faster. Not in places like this.

Despite his feelings on the matter, Locus still takes the time to unearth his phone from his pocket and check it. He wasn't surprised to find it without a signal. Shitty old buildings and even shittier elevators tended to be deadzones even as technology supposedly got better, not worse. He shrugged and shook his head.

And fell silent. The waiting had never bothered him much. It was hard to be a good sniper if it did. But he could feel the restlessness of the other occupant in the elevator even without looking.]

It'll take them an hour or two at most, probably. Unless it was just a temporary outage and not something breaking down again. Might as well get comfy and wait it out.

[ Patience is a virtue but being late is a sin—a delicate balance to strike at the best of times. Yet the world is full of delicate fucking balances, and situational rules, and it never did anyone good to complain about them. Reality doesn’t change. And neither has her timetable. Pope would accept the excuse if she got into a firefight—maybe—but not being locked in an elevator.

Leah watches the other man for a moment, considering him. He’s tall. Built strong, moves like he maintains it. Means he’d be a problem in a confined space, if it came down to brute force.

A positive: he hasn’t done the sideline stare at her breasts.

She lifts her chin. ]

I’m on a deadline. There’s a hatch. Let me up on your shoulders so I can check it.

[ He’s taller than her. Not tall enough to reach it on his own, though. ]

[Locus stared at her for a silent moment after she gave her demand. It wasn't necessarily a bad idea but the way she held herself, the way she said it all as statement rather than asking... it lent a certain type of bearing to her character. Locus debated on being contrary for the sheer difficulty of it. A defiant streak not quite stamped out of him despite the military's finest efforts.

But it didn't stick in his mind for long. It served no purpose and he hated purposeless action. And he hated inaction almost as much.

He glanced up at the hatch he had been considering a few moments ago. Then back down at her. He grunted as he pushed off the wall and took the few steps it took to position himself under the hatch.]

It'll be locked. Do you have any knowledge in how to deal with it?

[Or would he have to instruct you?]

[ Something always goes wrong. Of course today is no exception.

Someone out there has been killing soldiers. Not eating them - this wasn't walkers. This was someone alive, someone with weapons. And while Carol's more and more convinced every day that fewer Commonwealth soldiers might be better for her people than not...still, the enemy of her enemy is not necessarily her friend. She needs to know who's out there. What their agenda is.

She'd gone alone - no need to get anyone else involved. She'll move faster this way anyway, maybe even be back before anyone knows she's missing. Or at least that had been the plan. Before the walkers had shown up and she'd fled to an apparently abandoned building and someone she's never seen before had had the same plan.

The building hadn't been as abandoned as it seemed - there's a generator somewhere, and the elevator had seemed like a lifeline, a way to escape from the oncoming, overwhelming horde fast. Until the generator died or something went wrong and suddenly she's trapped in a box with a stranger, suspended halfway up.

Carol had slipped on her mask without thinking the instant she'd almost literally run into the stranger, letting her eyes grow wide and her hands shake as if in fear as they ran from the walkers streaming through the doors and crashing against the windows. When the elevator grinds to a halt, she doubles down, clapping a hand to her mouth over a shaky gasp, her eyes filling with tears. ]

No - no - please, no -

[ She hammers the lightless buttons, pulls feebly at the seam of the doors before slapping her hand against them helplessly. ]

Please, God, no, not like this, I c-can't -

[ This work was much easier in a group, with the squad to back her. Ruthless competence at every step and no question of what had to be done - even, sometimes, when there should have been. But there's clarity in solitude in turn, a sort of brutality in learning that only nature can provide. There are many teachers in this world. She isn't thankful for all of them, but she's thankful for this: clarity of purpose.

First, she needs weapons. The rest will fall in line.

But herds can be a problem, and she's in no mood to throw herself against waves of the dead hoping Pope will love her even more for it like some of the others. He lost his way and so did she, for a time.

Now, she's getting it back. And now there's a stranger in box, in the firing line. Almost immediately falling to fear.

Leah watches her, expression blank. She's been in the woods for a long time now, her hair hanging long and wild down her back. Against regulation, even Pope's relaxed standards, but there's no one to call her on it now and anyone who gets close enough to make a grab for it is close enough for other, more brutal retaliations.

She lifts her hand to her mouth, knife held loosely. Shh. A blade to the throat will solve this problem quickly enough, but it might just be noisy.

Can't have that now, can they? ]

[ Carol sees the gesture and the knife and shuts up fast. It's in character, the fear of the walkers outside overridden by this more immediate threat, but she's also not going to be stupid about this. There's no reason to get herself killed just to keep up her cover.

And it makes sense. Noise will only draw their attention, and soon they'll be close enough to hear, to follow the sound. She stares at the other woman, eyes wide, taking in everything she can. She's armed, dressed to move and fight, hair longer than it should be but pulled back in a practical ponytail. And she knows what she's doing. Staying calm, cautioning Carol to do the same, ready to shut her up the hard way but not moving to do so before she has to. Smart. Pragmatic. Wherever she's from, it's not a cushy community like the Commonwealth, or Alexandria when they'd first found it.

She shakes her head, practically whispering, overcompensating for how loud she'd been before. ]

What do we do?

[ It's been a while since she's seen another living person like this, close enough to watch their eyes go wide and wonder - briefly - at the color. But the mind has a tendency to go off on tangents, focus on strange things. Sometimes, she thinks about roots growing through Matthew's bones. Sometimes, she thinks about going back to Meridian and putting down the corpses of her family so they won't wander hungry until the end of days.

Sometimes, she kills teenagers while they scream for mercy and thinks, Matthew would have been a teenager in a few years. If he'd lived. If he'd had that chance. If I'd been just that much quicker. And then she pulls the knife across that girl's throat and leaves her to rot and rise.

So it goes. So this goes.

Leah doesn't say a word. She just hangs back, listening intently. Eventually, they'll have to pry the doors open, or try and climb out the hatch in the top. They'll need two sets of hands for that.

So.

No need to kill this one just yet. It's only practical.

She doesn't say a word, though. Conversation has a way of tangling her in the weeds. She's trusted liars too many times. Better, she thinks, not to let them have that chance in the first place. And so she just shakes her head, two fingers held flush to her lips. Shhh.

They can wait. Where else are they going to go? ]

[ Carol narrows her eyes, frowning. The other woman's plan is...nothing, apparently. Sit tight and be quiet. Until what? Now that the herd's been drawn this way, they won't move on unless something else catches their attention. Even if they can't get into the elevator, even if the two of them are quiet and the walkers don't know to try to get in, once they leave they'll still be out there. And in the meantime, Carol and her new acquaintance will need food eventually. And more importantly, water.

But arguing about it won't help. And there's no emergency, not yet. She scoffs in disapproval, but submits to the other woman's leadership, for now, and slides down to sit on the elevetor floor and wait. It hasn't escaped her that the stranger hasn't said a word, hasn't given anything about herself away. Time to sit and watch for a while. See what she does next. ]

[ She can hear the dead shuffling not so far away. Moaning the way they do, air passing through dead lungs. She wondered about that once, thinking back to the first time she learned to fight a deer and learned how the machine of the body truly worked. The mechanics of it. Dead and rot and still they eat. God works in mysterious ways, Pope used to say.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. What would it change things if she knew the intricacies of rotters and their hunger? She understands the intricacies of human bodies already and that’s never changed what needs to be done.

There’s no more room to flinch now.

She watches the other woman, unblinking, and then—methodically—begins tearing strips off of her shirt. It bares her stomach and the old scars there, but that hardly matters. Bodies hardly matter anymore, and her gloves are gone. If she’s going to get the doors open, or pry the hatch loose, she needs to protect her hands from the rust she can see blooming over the metal like fungus.

So it goes. ]

Stuck in this elevator.

Kishin Asura ΦΦΦ Soul Eater

ella lopez | lucifer | ota

Yelena Belova | mcu | ota

abel ( original ) ota

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Captain Rex | Star Wars Universe

linhardt von hevring / fire emblem three houses / ota

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marcus pike | the mentalist

Leah Shaw | The Walking Dead | OTA

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