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

[pillz]

Nah. Oldest industry in the multiverse, I'm pretty sure.

[there's some kind of gay chicken happening here. the dream thief's eyes flit over the mischief god's face.

and it's gay chicken that kavinsky loses.

in the end, all he finds it in himself to do— is the quickest peck, popped onto loki's mouth. he doesn't quite blush, but he does glance away, pretending, much like a cat, that he hadn't been bested after all.]

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki gives a low throaty chuckle that slowly melts into laughter. ]

And what was that?

[pillz]

[kavinsky's head snaps around. irritation-- mostly pretend— draws his eyebrows together.]

Man, don't fuck around with me. We're fucking— [he throws his arms out, then glances around suddenly, reassuring himself nobody's eavesdropping.] We're fucking working.

[not that he's too disciplined to have sex on the job, just. it's a good excuse, when you lose your nerve.]

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki laughs, a rich sound that rings in the glass corridors. Once he's done, he plies his tone, honey-sweet. ]

I would think a husband of mine has more nerve.

nsfwish

[pillz]

[there's a flash of fang over the fat curve of kavinsky's lip. false irritation sublimating into something else-- something bright and sure of its own power, even if even kavinsky knows that most of his vampire power is dwarfed by the abilities of a verifiable demigod. but why would that stop him, especially when the game is this?

the next moment, his mouth is back on loki's mouth. but his tattooed fingers are shimming down the front of the other man's frame, sliding over green and black fabric. skipping past knives, if there are knives. making their way down to his belt, and below his belt, the discreet housing of dick in trou. those around them&mdahs;

pay just a little mind. it's a bit indiscreet, you know. but that's probably why kavinsky whispers,] Why don't you teleport this, sweetheart?

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki grabs his arm, his grip like steel, cold and ruthless. ]

That seems unwise.

[pillz]

Why?

[unwisdom is kavinsky's favorite, to be fair. his eyes glint in the faraway lights of the night time city. he doesn't move his hand away, but he doesn't keep trying, either.

around them, no one much pays notice. pda-- common enough, out here. even if kavinsky was-- is-- rather out of hand.]

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki flashes him a sharp grin. ]

I do care about propriety now and then.

[pillz]

[kavinsky stretches his tattooed fingers wide, like he's going to still make a grab-- but then he lets his hand go slack. waiting until the jotun lets go of him.]

Okay, husband. When does 'now and then' end?

[seduction 101.]

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki chuckles. ]

When I say so. Shall we? I believe we have appointments to keep.

[pillz]

No problem, sweetheart.

[kavinsky lets his arm fall, once it's released.]

You wanna hold hands?

[he opens one spidery-fingered appendage, like it's a joke.]

Since you won't let me hold the bigger one. Breaking my heart.

[dothelokimotion]

It's what I do best.

[ But he extends his arm all the same. ]

[pillz]

[and kavinsky accepts it. a touch awkwardly, betraying himself, perhaps, and his-- nerves. he's a good liar, but less adept at lies he's never had to tell before. like.

being married. or anything official with any sort of permanence.]

What's what you do best?

[breaking hearts? there's a smile floating over kavinsky's face, like he can't quite believe loki would make that boast; the boast that people care about him, and he sullied it. it takes a baby supervillain with terrible self-esteem to recognize another.]

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki picks up the tone in Kavinsky's voice, but doesn't let his expression falter. ]

Breaking hearts. Is it so hard to picture?

[ It doesn't matter if Loki had them or not. That doesn't make him any less adept in squirming into the cracks of people's hearts. Slowly unboxing them, piece by piece. ]

tw racism

[pillz]

Nah, I guess not. You have pretty eyes. Pretty mouth-- [kavinsky's voice has a pleasant, oily edge of creep to it. it is necessarily a sexual compliment. if they weren't walking by one another, he'd definitely be looking at his 'husband's ass.] Every other orifice that the chinks would've stuffed wit jade, I'm sure that's pretty too.

Hey.

[he holds out a hand, tattooed fingers open like a dead spider, belly-up.] Can you teleport us back to the room?

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki hums softly. ]

What's in it for me?