Prison World #3: Panultima (tw violence, torture, coercion)

[spoofer]

Characters: Ensemble Cast, maybe even you!
Summary: The third prison world in Xistentia is a terrifying subdimension where sentient people exploit each other in order to run technology that will fend off D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. The 'ruling' class, Primus, are bound to a system of coupling (see: fake dating!), legacy and nepotism, whereas the Servus are put through an elaborate media circus (see: Hunger Games). You're here to study this world. And perhaps even to free those captured.
Date(s): February 8-20
Warnings/Notes: Violence, torture, coercion

Panultima

You cursed your gods and died

The Primus Life

If you thought Earth was a tough neighborhood, welcome to Panultima. Here, life is sweet. At least, as long as you're one of the Primus class.

It's a sprawling city of wicked spires and elaborate canals, covered in a luminous, translucent shield. Rather than a circular planet resting in orbit, instead, it's a flat plane of matter suspended in space, the foundations of the buildings rooted in only a hundred feet of stone and unknown technology. But the vast majority of citizens care little for that. After all, the city has every amenity and experience one might desire.

Restaurants line the streets. Theater is at an apex in development, with a particular focus on integration of moral philosophical themes. Gondolas run the canals, whereas a railway races over the winding laser-track in the air. Fashion is diverse, colorful, characterized by wild shapes, patterns, and accessories. Food imported from worlds both thriving and dying across the multiverse. At the numerous colleges and institutes, premier technology and opera are under constant invention and reinvention.

COUPLE STUFF

Primus culture emphasizes couples. Trios. Larger groups of lovers than that, even. After all, with romantic love and loyalty to care for, and survival hanging on it... who has the time or energy to care about justice for all?

Not these guys!

In this world, the mission and pleasure roll together well. The implant picks up information, so your main job is to explore. Perhaps you and your partner might enjoy yourself a glow-in-the-dark cocktail in a smoky bar where a two-headed singer is providing the music, a tour of the massive shield generators in the sparkling complex. Or pick fruit from one of the hundreds of bonding trees in the city's central park— so named, because it requires successful completion of questions to "the newlywed game" for each before one of the luscious, sweet fruits is released from a vine.

THE SERVUS LIFE

But for the little guy, life is considerably shittier. Welcome to the arena, the fully manipulable bubble reality set up to torture the slave class. The emotions of pain, fear, anguish, and wild, adrenal victory.

Most days, it looks like a forest— incidentally, very much like Xistentia. There are dozens of hybrid creatures in it, most of which are edible, others toxic, several very dangerous. However, the ground below can change at any moment, turning into mud or belching acid baths. Or you might find yourself abruptly attacked by a bear with biological armor growing from its huge shoulders. The control room, operated by Primus, is concealed from view. Its role is to keep the environment challenging for those competing, shifting the settings of the place to advantage some and cripple others.

But the arena's programming isn't the only threat.

Instead, you have a motley host of macabre killers, other Servus locked up in here just like you. Some have survived in here for years, earning favor from audiences thanks to the amount of pure horror they squeezed out of their victims. Some of the better-known brands are the Bantam Butcher, a fallen angel whose first kills were those who took his wings, and now thrives on torture. The trapmaster seems to have control over environmental factors that rivals the control room. And the baker trio will eat the flesh from your bones if they catch you.

For infiltrators, the challenge is worse. Not only might you need to kill, survive, and explore the arena with your implant— but if you want to save the very same people who are out to murder you, how are you going to do that?

Breakout!

Several days into the mission, and that's when it happens-- the control room shuts down, under attack. And suddenly, there's pandemonium. Within the arena, some of the servus know immediately what this means— and they're willing to make a break for it, cutting each other down, crippling each other if it means that the Primus might have slower-moving people to contend with and allow them to escape. Others seem to have long since given up, failing to respond as the trees suddenly go dark and motionless, the birdsong dying into silence. After all, where is there to go? It's either D.E.S.T.I.N.Y., or to join the system that hates them, isn't it?

Are you inside the arena, or out? Are you there to help the fleeing Servus, or are you merely ready to scramble on home yourself and save your own skin?

Footnotes

1. Please ensure that threads are marked with appropriate content warnings!
2. The plotting post for this event can be found here, and the original announcement with some other details is here.

Comments

[deathkid]

[ were it not for his innate battle skills, his senses, and his ability to shadow travel, nico would've been dead a long time ago. he's well aware of this as he prowls around the edges of the perimeter. it's been weird, finding himself thrown into the area, and it pisses him off. having to kill for someone else's sport. it helps to remind himself that some of these people are going to die anyway, that they're not truly people but whoever the F.A.T.E.S. has brought here. still, there's a wealth of guilt that pools in his gut each time the sword he'd picked up slices through someone's neck or through their sternum. he hasn't been this covered in blood since the house of hades, and he's beginning to smell.

fortunately, he's not alone. while he can no longer sense kavinsky like he previously could ( when the other boy had still been mortal ), his ears are still good enough to pick up the sound of rustling branches and a hissed voice. but why would kavinsky bother coming here? he could be living it up with the primus, doing whatever it is that the primus do ( nico isn't sure, but he suspects it's a lot of indulging ). he's hungry and cross and though he's survived on his own in dangerous conditions before, that doesn't stop him from being terse with kavinsky as he approaches the barrier. ]

What the hell, Kavinsky? What are you doing here?

[pillz]

I'm fucking, [kavinsky snaps, his voice low, irritable,] I'm-- fucking. [fucking. conflict knots in his stomach, grinds his molars together, makes him hesitant to finish the sentence. it's not that he's afraid to look sentimental... well. it's not just that he's unwilling to look sentimental.

he actually doesn't know, exactly.] Taking a walk, [he finishes, lamely. it's not exactly inaccurate. maybe 'taking a run' would've been more accurate. but he shakes his head, dismissing nico's line of questioning is irrelevant. steps forward instead, coming up near the barrier. peering through, hesitating before he manages to touch the eerie shimmer of the surface. he doesn't know what happens to electrocuted or laser-struck vampires, but he's willing to bet that it isn't good.]

You gotten wounded or anything? [he asks, gruffly. his hollow eyes dart back and fix on nico's face, his pupils blooming wide to accommodate the darkness.] Tried to ask people, but all these Primus fuckers get you guys mixed up pretty easy. Guess there ain't a lot of stock in giving a shit about the details.

[it's a really great situation. not. he stops, his nose a half-inch from the forcefield, studying nico's face.]

[deathkid]

[ it's a bit odd, having kavinsky so concerned for him. while he knows the other boy cares in his strange, obtuse way, nico has never considered that kavinsky would care enough to put himself in danger in order to check on him. kavinsky seems like the kind of person to put himself first and while nico can't really fault him for that, it's a bit frustrating at times trying to read him.

like now, as kavinsky steps closer making nico do the same. were it not for the barrier, there'd be but a breath between them. it's been a while since they've been this close and nico can't help but frown at that thought. ]

That last blow was kinda harsh, and there's ringing in my ears. [ he pauses to wiggle a finger in his ear, hoping to clear it but eventually drops his hand and sighs. ] But that could just be because of all the people dying. My death senses are going haywire with all this death.

[ which has been throwing him off a little, but not enough to prevent him from giving a good fight when he needs to. it's like any other battle he's had to fight before. just as deadly, just as dangerous. he's been trained for this, after all, though he's never had to kill so many actual people. there might be blood on his hands ( bryce lawrence's in particular, along with a few other demigods ), but never as much as he has right now. ]

They don't care as long as they see people die in bloody ways. I hate that I have to play into that just to survive. But you- You could be up there partying. Why are you really here?

[pillz]

[the vampire grinds his little vampire molars. why do vampires have molars if they'll never eat vegetables again? because magic isn't the same as evolution, i guess. kavinsky stares at the front of nico's shirt instead of responding, something about the angle of his head, the set of his skinny shoulders, profoundly sullen. maybe he would be even more sullen if he knew that nico was the one responsible for hooking up wyatt and vex, but in absence of that knowledge, he has one (1) less reason to be a petty piece of shit.

he'll just be a petty, stupid piece of shit about some other nonsense.]

Wanted to see if you were fucking dead, [he snaps, finally. he is the actual least gracious of loving, worried, well-meaning friends.] Can you even die? Maybe I'm wasting my Goddamn time. Sure. Just lay that out for me. [but he doesn't twist on a heel and storm off. he just rubs his face irritably, callused hand against cheek and jaw.]