"Warning," cawed the electronic announcer, "pile output insufficient to maintain environmental stability."

There was a deep, sucking thrum, and the world shifted gently as the area's central gravity shut off, leaving behind only the planetary gravity of the green capsule, and the various other experimental debris that were equipped to generate their own gravitational pull.

"Emergency systems engaged."

Anyone who stayed on the surface of the planet would stick to it, but anyone who jumped away would find themselves free-floating.

(OOC: This keyboard kinda sucks, and the PS3 browser has no spellcheck. Admins and mods, you have my express permission to deal with any typos you find.)

For once, Ace was left almost entirely speechless in the wake of the level of damage his partner had taken. Rock the monkey had just eaten missiles, and the serval watched him pick himself up, but it was obvious the act was done without any semblance of ease. Either Ace didn't want to freak him out with the wrong set of words, or Ace simply didn't want anyone to see himself freak out, but the only thing the people on his radio channel would hear was a shaky sort of "Dude..."

He tried looking at something else. The first thing he saw was the attacker, Tracer-- the one he'd been the most suspicious of, of course-- drifted off into the blissful ignorance of unconsciousness, with his own crew apparently adopting themselves as her personal caretakers. He Tch'd in irritation-- he saw no reason why they couldn't simply toss her into the recesses of space and be done with it, but whatever. Astrid was the one handing out the paychecks, after all... as if they were even part of the picture, anymore. By then, Rock was shuffling off, and Ace begrudgingly followed, looking back. "Hawkins, huh," he mumbled ambiguously.

The second thing he saw was his home planet, which was a comforting thing to see. Or at least, it would have been, if it didn't look so... unlike home. Even with his limited experience in space travel, something seemed a little off. Unless he was looking at the wrong continent in the wrong light, shouldn't it have been more... blue?

He stopped walking.

"Hey, guys?" he broadcasted, speaking in more than a murmur for the first time in a while. "What's up with planet Earth?"

Soon enough, the now frazzled (more for some than others) group was packed back into their shuttle, its new destination set for the space colony looming above. Its face was illuminated by the light reflected off the foreign planet below, and it looked like its typical exterior.

Eventually, an open hangar was found among the vastness of the ARK's face, and they quickly approached it. Fortunately for the rookie space-adventurers, the ship fit inside the opening available, the hangar appearing large enough to hold several shuttles if needed. The interior of the hangar itself was dimly lit, flashing red emergency lights providing the only sort of illumination within it. No other lights flickered or shined, only the continuous red.

They were not the only people attempting to use the access point into the ARK. A multitude of others were entering, a majority of them riding on a variety of EX Gear, and even a few more shuttles were slipping in. It appeared the entirety of whomever had been in the nearby vicinity concerning the grand space race was migrating to this one hangar. Most of the ships there showed the official logo of the race, representing the vehicles that were carrying officials or even bystanders who came to watch.

Eventually, a few figures appeared within what could be taken as the control room, shutting the hangar tight and letting a wave of oxygen fill the expansive room. Immediately, people began to file out of the hangar and farther into the ARK, a few people having appeared at the main doors, motioning for the newcomers. Gear, spacesuits, and ships alike were being left behind in the hangar, no one giving the logo-lacking shuttle a second glance.

At least, despite the pulsing red of the lights, the colony did not appear to have lost all function. It was a mystery to what was truly wrong, or what had even caused it.

Coop glowered at nothing in particular. He stood there, in the middle of the bay, uneasy. His feet were apart, and his hands were held out from his sides; he held his shoulders up and back, and for all appearances seemed to be subconsciously trying to increase his size in the massive chamber.

As Badge went off to look for an official, and Rock went off to look for some really good medication, Coop stood, undecided.

He looked at the floor. He looked back up. He clenched his jaw.

Then he followed after Wild Badge — trailing after the burdened super-hero at a safe distance.

The hapless official that Hoji had targeted turned out to be nothing more than a distressed rent-a-cop of uncertain salary. He turned and, within seconds of spotting the llama-toting super-hero, began to yell.

"I already told—!" he began, his voice keening on the knife edge of reason, before appearing to control himself, with effort.

"Look," he said, shakily, "first aid's set up over there, near that service shuttle." He pointed vaguely in the direction of a unloaded supply shuttle, which had set up a plethora of makeshift sickbeds out of storage crates and blankets.

"They can help your friend out."