fridgetothefire | Entries tagged with be jealous of the miter saw

[Public video]

[Anya doesn't look markedly better than she has in the last two months. She still has her crown of bony protrusions (a few of them now snapped by the recent invaders), messy hair, fading bruises and scrapes, and wan, exhausted features. But her gaze is clear and direct, her expression tight-lipped.]

...normal maintenance services will resume shortly. If there's anything you've been waiting to have fixed, please report it for triage.

[Private to Jean]

I don't know if they're still there after the latest debacle, but Arthas had zombies packed into his cabin like sardines when last I checked. Cleanup, aisle seven, etc.

[Private to Stephen]

Thank you.

[Spam for Morgana]

[She skulks, trembles, hides in a nearby empty cabin, like a mouse at a mousehole, until Morgana comes to her own door. She darts out, left hand closing on Morgana's wrist, nails digging in. Her other hand is full of partly-scrunched pages, torn from wherever they come from, a scribbled bestiary and neat pentacle diagrams and a few leaves that are slightly scorched, that look like ordinary paper but smell like burnt hair at the edges.]

Every key has teeth.

[Spam for Ben]

[She comes to find him, after his shift. It's not the first time she's done it in the last few weeks, but it's the first time without a distinct air of aimless hopelessness or frenetic desperation. She still feels weak, drained, and her hands shake a little when she holds out her arms for him, but her gaze is free and clear.]

Ben.

[Public video]

You may have noticed the ship disintegrating. Yes, I've heard the complaints. I've spoken to all of the wardens on this ship, and we've agreed to implement a new policy.

Until I decide it is no longer necessary, all the upper-deck, warden-access areas - the pub, the firing range, the CES, and the CTS - are now restricted to inmates who complete fourteen hours of maintenance work a week, to my satisfaction or that of a supervising warden I've deputized. If you want to play with guns or holograms or take scenic picnics or drink free booze, you're going to have to work for it.

That's an if. If you don't care, if you are outraged at the very suggestion, if it's beneath your dignity, whatever. Don't help. I'm not interested in wasting my time hanging over you trying to induce productivity. You forfeit those privileges. You'll live.

If you're already working a critical job - kitchens or infirmary - then the requirement is only four hours. If you join and dawdle, or try to steal tools or sabotage the work, you'll go to zero and you won't be allowed back when your time is up. Yes, I realize zero isn't intimidating to most of you. It's not about punishment. It's just about getting you out of my hair.

None of this is about punishment. Most of the wardens are pitching in too. It's about making sure the only place we have to live right now doesn't fall apart around us.

So if you want to keep your pub time or anything else, let me know here or at the maintenance office, level 7, and let me know if you have any construction experience or not. I'll have the first training and work schedules roughed out by tomorrow.

[Private to Arthas]

I know you need the CES to hunt. I also know you want to catch those bastards before we all turn into them. I've got some ideas you can help with besides mortar and paint.

[So please don't shank anyone for their item.]

[Spam for Riddick]

[After fielding as many of the responses as she can manage for a night, she finds his room and knocks.]

[Spam for Ben]

[A little before making the announcement, she goes down to see him. She owes that much. To whom precisely, she isn't sure. She brings her own chair.]

[OOC: I am gonna let 99% of the actual maintenance work go handwaved. Please just assume she is terrifyingly efficient and finds work for everyone and keeps the schedules running smooth. If you want to set up a spam with your character working in a team with someone random for CR purposes, please assume they are competently supervised and knock yourselves out. Fingers crossed no more Anya spamming for the rest of the month after this, she is too busy working and managing the shifts and stuff.]

[Warden Filter]

I have a proposal I'd like everyone to listen to.

I know the Admiral is being an unbearably condescending inscrutable prick about this. But I honestly believe him when he says he doesn't have the strength to fix our ship and chase down that other one. He's too proud to claim that kind of incompetence if it weren't true, and you can hear how aggravated he is. It's why he's being extra dickish at the moment.

So we need to hold it together, if we ever want to see our friends again, if we want not to be siphoned away until the floors start going dark and airless like they were over there a few months ago. I need to hold it together. And I need help.

Volunteers are welcome, of course, and anyone who has any experience in carpentry or plastering to help with training others would be even more appreciated. But frankly we also need you all doing your own jobs and watching out for the inmates, and they could stand to have a little less free time to cause mischief in.

So. I'd like to formally request that upper-deck privileges be restricted. No pub, no CES, no CTS, and no firing range access for any inmates who don't complete, let's say, fourteen hours of maintenance service a week, to my satisfaction, or that of a deputy, with no sabotage or dawdling. Fewer hours for inmates already performing other work details, I'm open to numerical suggestions.

All of those locations are privileges, and always have been despite how casual we are about them, and the chapel and greenhouse are still available to inmates who are unwilling or unable to work but who need some mental respite. I'll make an announcement to the inmates soon and maintain a list of everyone in good standing if you all agree.

I realize this is probably hopeless. I need unanimous cooperation. Even one of you with an item can scuttle it. If you have doubts about whether we should do this, or how, or why, please talk to me.

For those of you who were inmates on the other ship, who are wardens here, listening to this - I know it sounds like I'm asking you to help us take you back to hell, but I swear I'm not. Iris - you don't know her, but she's a version of Bianca who never went cruel or possessive. She's exuberant and dauntless and compassionate and amazing, and she's over there right now suborning that ship with nanites that can affect the barge substance on a fundamental level, that transformed this one almost completely. There's hope for unmaking that place, without abandoning the innocents there, yours or ours. But not if we disintegrate and give that place all our strength to fight her assault.

You can hear this because you're all good people, whatever you've done, however you've struggled. Please help me.

...and if you could all respond, at least in acknowledgement, that will let us know if we have anyone posing as a warden now who isn't one.

[Public]

[Anya is broadcasting from the maintenance office. Not the desk, but the workshop-like part, where she has been putting together medium-to-large boxes of construction materials.]

Okay. Everyone's had some time to lick their wounds, sleep off the worst part of their tolls or heal from their wounds, and generally flop around after that crazy mess. But here's the deal: those weird rotten spots on the walls left over from the mirror barge? That's where the Joker got first his hooks into the barge structure as a whole.

I've been working on cleaning them up, but it's been slow going. So this is an open call for volunteers. Inmates, wardens, anybody that has an interest in that bullshit or worse not happening again, I want to get all of them totally cleared before the next weird whatever hits.

[She gestures to Stephen, the Zane look-a-like puttering behind her, checking the kits.]

This is Stephen Hart, for those of you who haven't met him yet. He's going to be one of the regular maintenance wardens. If you don't know how to fix a wall, he or I or Mal will be available to teach you. If you do, so much the better.

Jean, Kara, if you guys aren't busy, I'd love you to pitch in. The places where I completely removed the rotted areas and rebuilt from scratch are still whole, but anywhere else the decay has come back again. I'd love you guys on demolition - I can give you a list of trouble spots, think you can disintegrate all the damaged material?

We might have a few holes left unpatched for the next couple of days, but I'd rather that than the alternative. Everyone who's willing to help, let me know so I can put the work groups together.

[Private to Mason]

...look, I'm not going to twist your arm or anything. No pressure. But sometimes helping to fix things helps.

[Private to Tig and Andrew, both of whom have probably patched at least one weak spot in handwavetime before]

You guys too. No excuses, you're practically experts.

[Private to Dean, backdated to a day before the announcement.]

Get on deck, loser, we're going shooting.

[Private to the Admiral]

I'd like a key to the lab and my own space there, please.

[OOC: Feel free to spam work teams if you want! Please assume at least one warden is watching every team and inmates cannot make off with tools or building materials with impunity, but feel free to choose your own teams ICly or OOCly for CR purposes other than that. Also feel free to thread with Stephen, who will also be around/replying.]

[Public, Video]

[Anya is sitting at the desk in the maintenance office. Dean's jacket is thrown over the back of the chair - she couldn't leave it behind, couldn't quite wear it either. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but her cheeks are dry, and she smiles.]

Hi. For all you new kids, I'm Anya Lensherr, former crazy inmate, and current head of maintenance.

[That was a little harder to say than she expected. But she mostly doesn't let it show.]

I'm in the market for some minions. Any inmates who know basic carpentry, electrical wiring, or plumbing should come talk to me. Any inmates who want to learn any of that should come talk to me. I'm a good talker, I'm a good listener, and I make great cookies.

You don't get to use the cool power tools until I'm convinced you'll use them according to the factory guidelines, but it's a pretty good gig, lots of downtime in between wall-shattering catastrophes, independent projects generally allowed. Preference goes to people without other jobs yet, I get final say, this is a benevolent hardware and transistor dictatorship, et cetera.

[Private, to Alec Trevelyan]

Did you ever talk to Dean before he left? I don't know if you're even still interested, but we'd be happy to have you.

[Private to Sylvanas, later, from her room]

You sing, right?

[Private to Debra Morgan]

How are you settling in?