The mate to a key and lips to a secret.

[enigmaestro]

WHO: SKRULLOCK HOLMES, TONY STARK, EDWARD NYGMA, NORMAN OSBORN, DR. JOHN ZOIDBERG and YOU!
WHERE: The Quarantine Room.
WHEN: February 22nd (evening) to February 24th (afternoon).
WARNINGS: None necessarily? Bickering doesn't merit a warning.
SUMMARY: Skrulls in the dungeon. Well, one anyway.
FORMAT: I'll introduce the setting in paragraph, but you choose what format you prefer.


The area for the quarantined is spacious and clean. Although technically under police custody, the room is established in a large auditorium of City Hall. There are five walled 'dividers' that offer the quarantined the semblance of privacy. Never mind that every inch of the room is taped on camera -- cameras that Mitchell Hundred can control with a word. Never mind that there are armed guards on the other wise of each exit. Never mind that the communicators of the quarantined have been disabled from encryption capabilities.

They were allowed a bed. Access to any bathroom was to be monitored. Meals would be provided. They were handcuffed but not leglocked. If any of the number disagreed with their situation, heavier imprisonment was negotiable.

The quarantined were to be questioned by those in authority, or those who were experts on Skrull detection. Or those who thought they were.

ooc || begin a thread with your character name in the heading. anyone can tag into your thread, including other quarantined individuals.

Comments

Skrullock aka Sherlock Holmes

[alldeduction]

He did little but glower at everyone, refusing to sit, refusing to lie down. His hands clasped heavily in front of him, he tugged at the chain and grunted.

Failed. Failed. And they didn't even have the decency to kill him.

He pressed his forehead against the divider, growling into it. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

John was always going to be here as soon as he could ;-;

[drpsychosomatic]

John cleared his throat, not quite sure what to say first. He'd had a little time to let it all sink in, true, but he still felt dazed by his inability to tell that Sherlock had been replaced. He'd been utterly convinced.

He had been back home, too.

"It's not your name, is it? Sherlock, I mean."

;-; jaaawn

[alldeduction]

He looked up at the voice, turning his head, his ears drooping slightly. He knew he would have to have this conversation, but he wasn't looking forward to it.

"No. Of course it isn't." His voice, as he spoke, raised in pitch, got younger. But as he spoke, he switched from his green face to Sherlock's. "I like the name, though. It's special."

IM NOT PROSING

[neptunia]

[ Namora approaches him, keeping some distance between them. she pauses, looking over his appearance before turning her gaze away, crossing her arms.

hm. ]

Hello, Sherlock.

[christlike]

[ Michael stands across from him, arms crossed. His lips wrinkled in abject disgust, he gazes for a few moments. Then: ]

You ungodly creature.

[hacktivist]

He had multiple reasons for coming. He wanted to hold Mitch to his word--to ensure there was no grim alliance happening here. He wanted to stay on top of events as best he could, and he wanted to see the Skrull who, he inferred, would probably have no desire to talk to him.

"What should I call you?" Instead of a hello. Metal fingertips on the divider, a boot pressing up against it too, swaying slightly. Never breaking eye--or lense contact.

[acrossyourpath]

[ Felicia narrows her eyes at him when she walks in, dressed in casual civilian-wear. ]

So was it you, then, that made me get that skrull toe?

night of the 23rd

[futurebatwoman]

[ It takes her a while to muster up the energy to come. Having concluded that Midii had the right idea after all, she's spent most of the day locked in her apartment, refusing to check the network or do anything but sleep and work obsessively on her suit and eat the icecream she'd had the presence to gather.

But she does, in the end, around eight at night, and sits down quietly. He won't recognize her, and to all intents and purpose she's a no one on his radar. Still. She clears her throat as if to say something, and then falls silent anyways. ]

WHENEVER

[leaps]

[ sulu doesn't speak immediately, just stands in front of the divider for a few minutes, gathering his thoughts. ]

Hello.

scream why didn't i think of this earlier

[bringerofwar]

Midnighter doesn't hold any illusions about being able to fool the skrull who'd been able to fool everyone into thinking he was Sherlock for however long, certainly not with his dismally fake British accent, but that isn't the goal. He only here, out of costume, because he can't very well wander into a place meant to detain skrulls shortly after being convincingly framed as one by some unknown asshole.

But Ghost says they've made a mistake - a big one - so he shows up frighteningly early on the 24th in the button down he'd worn the night of the meeting and a pair of pressed slacks, with the bright blue contacts in and looking for all the world like James Bond again.

He comes to a stop before the alien, watching him, silently. Trying to see what Ghost had in him.

[dragony]

It was the following afternoon, and little had changed from the night before. It seemed that way, at least; Ruka was still over-strained and under-rested, wearing away like frost in spring. But no matter; there were others affected by all this more keenly than she, and that was the important thing.

There was a pretty good likelihood that the Skrull formerly going as Sherlock would give no helpful information to anyone, let alone someone like Ruka, but what harm there was in trying seemed like an acceptable loss.

Her greeting comes with hands folded across her lap, and a voice without malice.

"Hello."

idk whenever

[anagrammatist]

[He didn't vote for Sherlock, though he'd suspected him. He hadn't even spoken to the man in weeks, if not a couple months. He's shown absolutely no signs of caring about any of this until the meeting.

So why is he here? Who knows. Curiosity probably. It's certainly not out of concern for Sherlock or wanting information about the invasion.

But he's here, all the same. With a somewhat friendly smile on his face and his demeanour relaxed, almost casual.]

Hello. Have you eaten?

Morning of the 23rd

[a_relative_hero]

Houston hadn't slept. The previous night's events had kept him up, both the events of the meeting and his conversation with Jack. He wanted a distraction so he decided to come see the quarantined. Both to check up on the situation there and to satisfy some curiosity. He walked calmly past most of the little 'cells', not all that interested in most of those that had been taken in.

Eventually he stopped in front of the cell containing the skrull that had been pretending to be Sherlock. He stood there silently, in civilian clothes and just watching Skrullock. Eventually he decided to speak.

"Good morning."

23 february, afternoon

[culver]

[Finding out that Sherlock had really been a skrull had been something of a blow. She'd trusted him, and hearing that he'd attacked people at the meeting... it just made her sad. She didn't like violence. But maybe that was just how skrulls were. It wouldn't have surprised her.

Getting to the place where they were being kept was easy enough; she went right after school. Nill immediately found the container where he was being kept--he was the only who was green, after all. There was plenty of paper in her bag, and she quickly took it out to write a greeting that she could press against the glass for him to read:]

Hello.

[threadbare]

Too many other things had demanded his attention since his arrival for him to pay overmuch mind to the network after the first couple of days. There was the matter of finding somewhere comfortably large enough to hold a dragon and his rider, not to mention learning all about the metal caravans that carried people along roads without horses and how not to get hit by them, as well as how to use Earth marks--no, they'd said the word was 'dollar' here--and what they could (or had to) buy. Basic survival needs, those. Shelter, safety, food, and clothing.

It was all a great change from home, to be sure.

But he'd heard enough about the town meeting and seen enough panic over the Skrulls to at least be curious. Best to take time out and see an example of the... creatures Julian had told him about on his first day in the City and learn for himself.

"Good afternoon," he said, folding his arms and nodding. "N'ton, Fort Weyrleader, rider of bronze Lioth. I see they've given you a better room than you'd have had on Pern. Quite generous of them."

Nothing too impolite, leaving Fake Sherlock room to carry on a civil conversation, but still a bit of a dig at the fact that it is a prison of sorts. He'd like to see which bait the Skrull takes.

[viced]

He'd seen it in the mess, the attempt to escape, coming right fucking for him. He'd watched it with his own eyes, and he still couldn't fucking believe it. It was morbid curiosity that brought him down. He only offered a solemn nod to his actual compatriot in the makeshift prison, promising himself to talk to Edward later, when people were asleep. He controlled the cameras, he controlled the machines in here, but sometimes you couldn't discuss things in public. This, though. This he wanted on camera. The entire debacle had weighed heavily on him. He had to prepare, he had to keep going. He couldn't stop, he couldn't let his guard down. They may have one, but how many more were there out there?

How could he stop his invasion, if he couldn't stop this? It weighed on his conscience, but every step he took, the gears continued to grind far too slow. He pressed a hand to the divider, looking directly at the creature. He wasn't even trying anymore. How easy was it? How easily did he emulate someone else? How did they take everything and fit so seamlessly into society?

"How does it feel? Being the first fucking skrull we've gotten our hands on?" he kept his voice low, schooled, little inflection. Inserting the swear if only for character right now. No need to let on how serious he took this.

[bests]

[ carol stands in front of skrullock's cell in full ms. marvel get up, hands on her hips and a small smirk playing about her lips. she can't help but take some sort of sick delight in seeing a skrull chained and imprisoned like this. ]

You're lucky you were caught this way, you know. I'm sure there's a number of people out there who would be more than willing to use... unsavory methods to pump you for information on where the others are.

[goryteller]

[Katurian arrives the first day with his usual sunken eyes, his usual exhaustion.]

I suppose you recognize me.

[out_of_time]

Jack entered the room doing more than a little glowering of his own. Sherlock? He'd never even suspected, too busy worrying about other angles. And when he'd shown himself and the shooting had started, Jack had been able to do almost nothing but crouch, draw his weapon, and try to make sense of the chaos. His injury held him back, and it was all over before he could do anything useful.

Now, though, maybe he could get something done.

"You have his memories," he said. "I assume that means you know who I am."

because your inbox isn't full enough!

[daft_old_man]

The Doctor watched the alien with Sherlock's face for a little while before approaching him.

"You hurt my friend. Our friend. I saw John leaving." His grin is a little sad. "I suppose we don't need much of an introduction, but all the same I'm the Doctor."

i would like to contribute to your inbox problem

[benevolent]

[She knows what it feels like to be the 'evil monster' chained up in a strange place with strange people. It's why she's here. She wants to believe this is like her world. There are no evil monsters; just good and bad people. She doesn't want to hate Skrulls blindly even if it tempting given what they have started; what they've put Ghost and all her other friends through. Shahrazad doesn't waste any time getting into it.]

Were you wronged? [It's a great factor in why her kind hated the Terrans. A good starting place for this.]

[liverletdie]

He'd waited a while, listening, and not interacting with the skrull at all. He'd wanted to wait. There were plenty of people who wanted to meet it face to face, so he waited, and listened.

"So, N'cho," he called over the divide. His voice was light, borderline on the mockery tone. He didn't want to give much away. "Care to share some pointers? I'd love to pick your brain."

Thursday night, about an hour after Skrullkate's reveal

[nottheanswers]

Vic was a mess. He'd stopped by home to get most of a suit, but his hair was mussed, he couldn't dream of putting on a tie with just one arm in a sling, and he still smelled like a hospital. He'd pretty much checked himself out as soon as he saw what happened, and now he found himself pacing in front of this divider.

"You're here for a reason. That much is obvious."

23rd

[imwotchingyou]

She wants to speak to him. Tonks is deeply curious. Not only does she want to know how his abilities work, she wants to know what happened to the real Sherlock.

"Wotcher."

Her tone is civil enough. She's not scowling. Tonks' hair is even a warm shade of lavender. Her hair falls in loose lavender waves to her shoulders. It gives her a pleasant appearance over all.

"Are they treating you alright?"

For the record, she hates this whole entire thing.

After the Nill thing omg

[drpsychosomatic]

They'd have to get past him to hurt N'cho. This whole situation was a mess; innocent people getting hurt for reasons he didn't understand- but he thought he might just have caught a glimpse of it in the publicised interaction between. the two skrulls. A phrase that sounded a little odd, a little familiar. N'cho had said he couldn't understand what was at play here, but he thought it was worth a try to see if he could catch a corner of it.

"N'cho," he started, slightly breathless from his rush over. "This has to stop, here, you have to see that."