[Sam Tyler] Who? What? When? Where? Why? How?

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Who: All Play!
When: Day 28, early morning, immediately following "Tabula Rasa!"
Where: The Staff cafeteria
Invited: All amnesiacs
Status: Complete

Hangover or no, Sam already knew that he was good at observing people and situations and drawing conclusions. (Makes sense for a copper.) For some reason thinking of himself as a police officer filled him with pride.

The group followed the Asian -- (Probably Japanese) -- man down more drab corridors. "Somehow I don't think we're on holiday," he volunteered, earning a few chuckles from the others. "That would be one explanation for why a Londoner, another Northerner, an American, and a Japanese man are in this... structure." He'd gestured at each of his companions accordingly. "According to my badge I'm Detective Inspector Samuel Tyler from Manchester. You've no idea of your names?"

"'Fraid not," the gangly Northerner said cheerfully.

(Another addict? Or maybe we're all nutters,) Sam wondered.

The cafeteria was unremarkable except for the people who'd already gathered: an American soldier, a beautiful blonde in a hospital gown, a half-clothed, shapely brunette being chatted up by an equally handsome young man, an exceptionally tall young man holding a nearly empty liquor bottle, and a burly, scowling older man who looked ready to snatch the bottle back.

Remembering his reflection in the mirror Sam was beginning to feel downright ugly. At least he had the drunkard and the big-eared Northerner to keep him company.

The Japanese man stopped a short distance inside the wide, tiled room. He bowed, saying "Konichiwa."

The few who hadn't noticed their arrival turned in surprise. Then the older man who wanted his bottle back threw his head back and laughed. "Kamakaze to you too, Nip." Sam blinked at the man's callousness. "Anyone 'ere speak English? Or better yet, cook?"

OOC: If I forgot anyone or if you want your character to be in the cafeteria already, just holler.

Comments

[Ami]

[fikgirl.livejournal.com]

Ami decided to stay where she was while Scott signed the list. While there was something oddly comforting about being surrounded by a number of people in the same position as she, being jostled and bumped wasn't high on her to-do list. Ami had no fears regarding touching people – touching the girl and the older woman showed that the rush of hormones evidently only attached itself to Scott – but she didn't feel the need to put herself in the middle of the action.

She observed her fellows quietly, first focusing her attention on the red haired Yank and his Aussie – unless she missed her guess at the accent -- girlfriend/child-bride/wife and their young son. (I didn't even have to ask what sex he was.) Yet another oddity to examine later. The man in question looked her way more than a few times, and they had a meeting of the minds and decided that they needed to talk later.

/We don't exactly need privacy, I guess,/ the American observed, /But despite people seeing people who aren't there and changing furniture colors, I don't see anyone screaming 'I'm telepathic.'/

/Did you hear the other one? There was someone else -/

/Is anybody out there?/ came the prompt as if on cue.

/That someone else?/ Ami could hear the laughter in the other man's 'voice.' /Yeah, kid, there's someone out here. Two someones./

Indignation and insult roiled into Ami. She winced slightly from the volume of the retort. /I'm not a kid./

/Of course you're not,/ the other American responded. /You're what? Seventeen? Eighteen?/

The annoyance grew. Ami turned her head. Peering through the crowd she spotted the teen glaring at the red head from across the room.

/You aren't a child, you're right,/ Ami intervened quickly.

/And I don't need to be patronized./

/Fine,/ Ami rolled her eyes. /Honestly, I'm only trying to keep the peace in my head./ Best not to mention how much it felt as though he was new at this, particularly when she didn't have any evidence to back it up. /Would you at least be willing to talk to us later? After things settle a bit?/

He met her gaze and then quickly looked away. /I'll think about it./

/Good enough./

[OOC: sophiedb, hope this works okay for you. I figured Jon would be surly and resistant.]

[Scott]

[starborn-scribe.livejournal.com]

Scott kept an eye on Ami from his place in line. He almost 'said' something when she winced with pain, but only looked in her direction. She, the redhead with the hot young wife/girlfriend and baby, and the surly teenager all were exchanging glances, some more obviously than others. (The 'blokes' she heard, Scott surmised.) Between the general chaos in the room -- (How often do you see a well-endowed albino speaking French to a pouty lesbian's ghost friend?) -- and Ami's growing annoyance, he decided to leave her be.

When Scott reached the head of the line he blinked from the table's garish yellow. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the drab complex. Shaking his head, Scott added his and Ami's names and nationalities to the list.

[Bond]

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

Bond walked up to the table. The table which had turned bright yellow with a wave of the cute blonde's hand. (Nifty trick, that,) Bond thought.

He took the pen from...Scott, it looked like. Then he leaned over to sign his own name: James Bond. He hesitated over nationality. He sounded American to his own ears, but that didn't seem right somehow. But that's how he sounded, so that's what he went with. American

Then he stood up and looked around. At the magically color-changed table. At the moody blonde who apparently saw things nobody else could see and who had either been accosted by the invisible man or was possessed to judge by the way she'd risen into the air and spun around for a moment before dropping to the floor again.

Bond worked his jaw for a moment as he thought, then whistled piercingly, cutting through the hubbub. When everyone was looking at him, he started talking.

"Look, I like to think I'm as cosmopolitan as the next man, but doesn't it strike anyone else as pretty fucking weird--pardon my French--that Vikki here can change the color of a table just by waving her hand over it? Or that Millie there is doing a damned good imitation of a seance right here in front of god and everybody?"

"I'm pretty sure that's not normal. Am I alone in that? Anyone else want to ask just what the hell's going on here besides the obvious?"

[Isabel]

[nohatmatt.livejournal.com]

"What's odd about it?" Vikki asked. She'd seen the name the man had written down - 'James Bond' - and he'd done it with enough confidence for Vikki to assume that he'd found some ID. "I sort of thought everyone could do that, or this..." she pointed at a chair and mentally lifted it a foot or so into the air. More surprised looks came her way.

"You seriously mean to say that you can't?" She asked.

"Yes, we do," 'Liz' said, her scowl looking quite out of place on her otherwise rather beautiful face. "It's not normal at all."

"How odd," Vikki replied, setting the chair back down. "It seems normal to me. Vestiges of our real identities, perhaps?" That notion gave her some hope. "Perhaps, for those of us who can do apparently unusual things, our abilities seem perfectly natural when we can't remember our pasts, which would surely be quite heavily influenced by such an ability."

((OOC: Not to say, of course, that anybody else feels the same way Isabel does - it's Vilandra's past which is providing the naturalness of her powers because everyone has them where she came from))

[Ami]

[fikgirl.livejournal.com]

Ami considered the man's words. He did have a point, what the pretty blonde was doing was no more mainstream or normal than talking to people telepathically, being telekinetic, which curiously enough the blonde all seemed to be, or teleporting, which she only had Scott's word for and she could question him about later. The pouty blonde, Millie, obviously saw and talked to ghosts or at least invisible people. And no one was phased by any of this.

"Maybe it is normal," the red haired American called out. "We don't remember anything or enough of anything to know what's normal. Or not normal for us. Maybe that's why we're here."

"You think we're like the X-Men or something?" The brunette in the oversized jacket and her underwear who'd taken to calling herself "Buffy" asked. "With super secret hidden powers?"

"But not everyone is doing weird things," someone said logically. Now that logic had been strutted out, some would cling to it in desperation.

(Better to be illogical if you ask me,) Ami thought, (Less chance of freaking out over color changing and levitating tables. Of course, not all of us are such show offs.) At the last thought, Ami considered the show-off blonde, Vicki, and the color changing table. A few heartbeats later, the blonde gave a yelp as the table and her chair rose rapidly into the air. Not particularly far, but enough to be noticed. They crashed back down just as quickly, and Ami managed to school her face to look as mostly-surprised as everyone else.

"Who did that?" Vicki demanded.

"I thought you did," Bond drawled.

"I think," Daniel started, paused and began again, "I think that it's relatively clear that some part of us recognizes these behaviors, among ourselves or others, as natural or at least as 'normal.' Knowing what, um, abilities everyone has would probably be helpful and conducive to figuring out what happened and why we're here, but it's not paramount at this juncture.

"Brain mapping has shown that different areas of the brain are used for different fucntions. Our memory centers have been damaged or erased, but not our language centers, motor skills or recognition centers. The clear fact that -"

"Yo, Danny boy, we get it," Buffy said. "Now shut up before you put everyone to sleep."

Daniel looked at her, evidently uncertain as to be insulted or amused.

/No way am I gonna admit that I'm a telepath just yet,/ Ginger 'commented.' /That's way far from moving furniture./

/I won't tell on you,/ Ami promised, her gaze moving to the teenager, /Or you./ She stood and began moving toward the door. Fortunately, Daniel was arguing with the other man with dog tags, Ami thought she heard him called Mickey or Mackey, and her retreat wasn't completely obvious. She glanced back over her shoulder at Scott, /I'll wait for you in the hall./

[Isabel]

[nohatmatt.livejournal.com]

Vikki yelped, quickly cutting it off as her chair hit the floor again, just hard enough to jolt her feet. She winced against the spark of pain which coursed up her nervous system into her brain, searching the room for a probable culprit. Nobody looked particularly plausible.

"Who did that?" she demanded. Nobody answered, and she glared at Bond's drawling suggestion. As if she could lift up the table by herself.

Daniel's suggestion seemed like a good idea, though.

"The problem," Vikki said, then stopped, frowning. A flicker of a voice at the edge of her mind distracted her, and she concentrated on it, but it had stopped. If she was telepathic, she was clearly not very good at it. "The problem," she continued, "with your suggestion is that I don't know for sure what I can do. So far I've just known I could do something when the idea occurred, and I didn't even know it was unusual. What is it that I'm supposed to tell you I can do if I don't know what I can do and I don't know what you'd consider to be normal?"

[Scott]

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Scott had been so preoccupied with Ami that he hadn't seen Vikki change the color of the table. That, without a doubt, was weird. (But cool.)

(Yeah,) Scott admitted, (I'm used to weird.)

Then people were conjecturing, tables and chairs were floating, and Vikki was getting ticked off. She demanded, "What is it that I'm supposed to tell you I can do if I don't know what I can do and I don't know what you'd consider to be normal?"

Scott shrugged. "No one's making you reveal anything. I think it's safe to say that normal humans don't move objects with their minds, can't change something's color -- which is pretty amazing, really, since you'd changed the paint's molecular structure to reflect the longer wavelengths of the visible--"

Bond held up one hand. "Spare us the science lesson, okay Mr. Wizard?"

Scott scowled at the man, but nodded. To Vikki he said, "Color changing? Weird. And apparently I'm a scientist... and also not normal."

"How so?" Ricardo queried.

Ami yelped, /Scott!/

/I'm not going to tell them everything,/ he assured her. /But the redheaded guy and Daniel might be right. Maybe our collective weirdness is why we're here./ Ignoring his unease Scott continued aloud, "I can feel other people's emotions." Since telekinesis seemed to be fairly common he decided to give it a try. On instinct Scott pointed at the chair with one hand. After a moment of concentration it shuddered, then skidded a few feet away. "And telekinetic."

[Damon] Me, too

[fikgirl.livejournal.com]

Damon watched the taller man focus on a chair that soon skittered a few feet across the floor. The man said that he could sense emotions, a feat that Damon noticed that he shared. He craned his neck for the hot British woman, Ami and saw that she was paused in the doorway, staring back in the room. /Are you telekinetic?/

Her head swiveled to meet his gaze and she nodded.

Damon considered that. He looked to Vikki and back to Ami. /Did you lift her?/

A ghost of a smile passed over Ami's face, quickly banished. /I was testing. Didn't think I'd actually pull it off./

He barely suppressed a grin at her mischievousness. He felt his second pang of the day. First was losing the memory of his girlfriend/wife and son and the second was the loss of friendship with this woman. At least he hoped they had been friends; Damon couldn't fathom sharing his mind with someone he disliked.

Damon's attention settled on a nearby table and he concentrated. The table shook, then lifted. Startled, he lost control of whatever he was doing and it crashed back to the floor with a loud thud. Claire yelped in surprise, his son whined in protest. Damon gave her a sheepish smile and projected reassurance to them both.

To the room at large he announced, "Empathic and telepathic here too."

[Sam Tyler]

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Once the commotion started Sam had positioned himself between the albino beauty and the blonde bisexual presumably speaking to a French ghost and the group who seemed to be moving things with their minds. Part of him wanted to dismiss it as complete rubbish, while the rest of his mind reluctantly accepted it. He had the dubious feeling that he'd seen some strange shite before losing his memory.

Since the psychics weren't causing any trouble, Sam joined the women conversing with thin air. The ghost, according to the blonde Yank, knew his name: Claud. He understood a bit of the pale girl's French, but not enough to follow. "What else has he said?" Sam asked. He hadn't completely bought into the supposed ghost, but it wouldn't hurt to play along.

[Willow/Michelle] All the cool kids are doing it...

[rwarner.livejournal.com]

'Michelle' looked at the display of telekinetics in awe. For some reason her mind was instinctually calculating the amount of energy that would be required to do what at least 3 people were displaying.

It also made her feel left out. So of course she had to try for herself. Screwing up her face in a look of concentration, Michelle raised her hand and pictured the table floating.

What happened next was definitely not what anyone expected. A sudden wind whipped up around Michelle as she began to levitate. Her eyes turned pitch black, as did the roots of her hair and the veins in her face and neck. The table that the redheaded man had moved suddenly flew up into the air and against the wall, where it seemed to meld with the concrete. Just as suddenly as it began, the wind disappeared, and Michelle collapsed to the ground, seemingly exhausted.

"Seems I'm telekinetic too," Michelle said weakly to the surprised faces. "With a little less control than the others as well."

[Sam/Frank/Francis] All the cool kids are doing it...

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Frank gaped at the levitating, black-eyed... thing. (Could be a demon, someone possessed by a demon, or a witch,) he supposed as he drew his hunting knife. Dropping into a defensive crouch, Frank began to wonder why on earth he'd think that.

The thought was quickly pushed out by a tingling heat under his skin. The beautiful demon/witch's power was seductive. Frank bit his lip to not move closer. Whatever she was, Michelle was dangerous. He needed to stay with Ricardo.

OOC: Sam's got a bad case of yellow demon eyes again. *cackles*

[Mayday] Doing what, freaking the rest out?

[weirdweb.livejournal.com]

As soon as Michelle raised her hand, that prickling feeling of danger May had felt twice so far - first when the girl had screamed, second when she had to avoid an elbow in the face from Millie - exploded.

She moved without thinking and bent backwards, her spine curving like a question mark as the table went flying past her face into the nearby wall. May stared at it, confused. Had she not felt it coming and remained where she was, she'd have gotten a table leg in the face for her trouble. (Felt it coming? How do you feel a flying table in the face coming before it happens?) "Um, maybe we should hold off and take the demonstrations outside? Or at least somewhere with more space?"

Then the sensation returned, not as pronounced, but it was... coming from another direction. The more she felt it, the easier it was to pinpoint it. She turned in the direction of the new warning and did a double take at the two guys standing together. On top of the slight twinge of familiarity they invoked - first time since she'd woken up - she couldn't not stare at the taller one. "Whoa, what's with your eyes?"

((OOC: Aaand going to a meeting. Stop waiting on me, anyone who is!))

Re: OOC AWOLness

[rwarner.livejournal.com]

Willow's not planning on channeling anything any time soon, especially when someone points out the physical changes her demonstration invoked (hint, hint). She's going to be absolutely mortified for a while - the amnesia has given her a first season personality with sixth season skills. :)

On the subject of the changes - they'll fade over time, she should be back to normal completely in about an hour.

[Isabel, Alia]

[nohatmatt.livejournal.com]

"Okay okay okay, I think May's right. Let's hold off on experiments for a bit. Not good in such a crowded room." 'Vikki' eyed the table with interest, wondering how it had managed to pass partially through the wall. She pulled herself back from the brink of experimenting herself, mindful of what she'd just said. It would indeed be unwise to test the limits of her abilities in a crowded underground room.

She got up and started hobbling to the door which led outside, wincing as her feet protested her weight on them. It felt like tenderness rather than damage though.

At least I'm healing from whatever it was, she thought, opening the door.

"So if anybody wants to come and experiment, and look around a bit to see if we can figure out where we are, I'll be climbing these stairs for a bit," she said, then turned her attention to the task of negotiating the steps which led outside.

Across the room, 'Liz' watched 'Vikki' start tackling the stairs, wincing frequently.

She should be sitting still, 'Liz' thought, but made no move to suggest that or offer assistance. That didn't seem like the sort of thing she'd do for some reason. She turned her attention to Daniel Jackson, frowning. Something about his name was familiar. Something...

She shook her head. Whatever it was tickling at the edge of her mind wasn't sufficient to resolve into any useful information. Perhaps she'd remember later. She hoped she would, or she'd be stuck here with no idea who she was forever.

[Ash/"Bond"]

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

"Well there's something you don't see every day," Bond observed. "Unless you're us, apparently," he added.

Michelle's brief transformation had looked unnervingly familiar, as if he'd seen it before--or something like it, at least. May's inhumanly flexibility was pretty eye-opening, too. And...Frank's hungery, yellow-eyed look at Michelle didn't bode well either.

Bond flexed the fingers of his left hand--his real hand. Muttering quietly to himself, he said, "Klaatu barada nikto!" and gestured at one of the unoccupied tables, willing...something to happen.

Nada. Zippo. Zilch. Nothing.

"Damn," Bond said. (I guess I'll just have to get by on my dashing good looks and savoir faire.)

[Daisy]

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

Daisy found herself edging closer to...whatever his name was. The man she was sleeping with to all appearances. Far from seeming threatening--and waking up to a strange naked man in your bed couldn't be anything but--he now seemed like an island of normality. He wasn't displaying--or claiming--the sort of powers best left to comic books and bad b-movies. Normal was safe. Normal was good.

Because this room was apparently full of people with bizarre and frightening abilities. And disabilities, since apparently she was the only person aside from Millie who could see the Frenchman. Or hear him. Daisy had no idea what to make of that.

"Maybe..." Daisy said to him, "Maybe we should go back to our--to that--room and see if we can find our passports. Or something else that will let us know who we are."

[George/"Millie"]

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

Getting answers out of Claud was slow going. Albino Girl translated Millie's questions, and Claud had resigned himself to giving simple answers, mostly yes or no, things Millie could repeat without mangling them too badly.

One of the Englishmen had approached them and asked what Claud had told them. "He knows who he is," Millie said. "He doesn't know any of us. That's about it so far."

Millie looked at Albino Girl. "Ask him if he knows where we are."

Claud listened and then nodded. He spoke. Millie repeated what he said. Albino Girl frowned. She asked a question in French. Claud nodded firmly. "Oui," he said.

"What? What is it?" Millie demanded. "He says yes, whatever it is."

"He says we're on the Island of Lost Souls."

Millie rolled her eyes. "How poetic. Can he be a little more specific?"

"Yes," Albino Girl said. "He says it's in the middle of the Pacific Ocean."

"We're on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean!?" Millie asked loudly.

[Molly]

[purplerhino.livejournal.com]

Molly was trying not to completely freak out. Really hard. Michelle's little trick had sent off all kinds of mental alarm bells, and made her skin itch and stomach twist. Something was just not right about it. Unlike the changing table's color, this was just... wrong on whole new levels of wrong.

Frank's eyes were making her want to vomit as well, which was not a good thing.

She had the urge to run from this place and only by digging her nails into her palms was she able to maintain any semblance of control.

Luckily Bond guy managed to offer a form of distraction.

"Klaatu barada nikto!" he muttered, then cursed.

"Excuse me, in the middle of all this, did you just tell Gort to stand down?"

((OOC: Ahh... Every time it was used in the evil dead movies I yelled "The Day The Earth Stood Still."))

Redirect

[fikgirl.livejournal.com]

It's getting a little bit crowded round here. Let's move the action up here (http://community.livejournal.com/crossing_lostrp/126990.html).

[Doctor]

[purplerhino.livejournal.com]

While trying to come up with a name the Doctor patted down his pockets. Maybe he had a passport somewhere. He found a cigar shaped rod with a blue light on the end, that he just KNEW was more than a torch, a billfold holding a blank piece of paper, a yo-yo, some paper clips, some twine, a metal disk with flashing blue lights, some very odd silver and gold coins, and a pass card of some sort with the legend U.N.I.T across the top, a picture... oh well, look at the ears, and the words Doctor,The. Was he a doctor then?

Oh well, Did he feel like a Chris or a John?

His attention wavered as Vikki did a neat bit of a trick, followed by some levitation and some windwork from another party.

Could everyone do somethin?

/Well you did that calming thing with me this morning./ His blonde companion's voice came to him clearly, but her lips didn't move.

/I wasn't wonderin' that aloud, luv./ He smirked as she turned to look at him.

/Blimey, we can hear each other's thoughts?/ Her eyes got wide and she looked a bit spooked.

/Only the loud ones, else we'd have been hearin each other think all along. Wonder if we're the only telepaths?/

/Can anyone hear me?/ The girl mentally shouted.

No one around the room seemed to react.

/Can anyone hear me?/ He mentally sent out, instinctively dropping a barrier she didn't realize he had in his mind.

((OOC: Rose is ONLY telepathic with the Doctor thanks to Bad Wolf and the nanogene menace. They also share an empathic link. None of the other telepaths can hear her. But the amnesiac alien just dropped his shields and gave a shout out. That ought to give all the telepaths/psychics present a headache they won't forget. >I'm evil<)

Redirect

[fikgirl.livejournal.com]

It's getting a little bit crowded round here. Let's move the action up here (http://community.livejournal.com/crossing_lostrp/126990.html).

[Oona]

[purplerhino.livejournal.com]

Pearl shrugged. "I'm not sure. Millie doesn't speak French but... Parlez lentement par le bruit. Ainsi elle peut le répéter à moi."

Pearl instructed the invisible Claude to speak slowly and phonetically, so Millie can try and pronounce what he said.

"It would be better than Oui and Non constantly, yes?" She was glad of Sam's presence. She didn't feel quite so silly talking to air when it others were considering the situation normally.

Suddenly the air moved, and wind whipped through the room. Oona felt her skin tingling, and the large red stone ring on her left hand grew warm. She looked over to see a young redhaired woman float upward, her hair darkening to black, her eyes changing to match as black veins traced over her temples and cheeks.

Evil. Pearl felt it in her bones. Dark magic. The flavor of it was something familiar to her senses.

As quickly as it started it was over. But not before another source answered the call. Her eyes darted about to spot the boy with no eyebrows, his eyes were yellow.

Demon. She could feel it. But how she knew this, or why was locked away with her own name. Did anyone else see it, or recognize it for what it was?

"This is very, very bad." She muttered.

Redirect

[fikgirl.livejournal.com]

It's getting a little bit crowded round here. Let's move the action up here (http://community.livejournal.com/crossing_lostrp/126990.html).