(no subject)

[initiates]

Date: June 1st
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports arrive and are shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings. Now with 200% more People-Seeking lists!
Warnings: None.

You've just been hustled and bustled through mazes of information and literal, wide corridors of the Initiative Hold and you've been equipped with your weapon—be it a gun, a sword, or even your existing powers. They've handed you this light netbook and a small pouch of coins (or a debit card, if you're more inclined), and there are several Transports before and after you going through the very same motions. You can hear the Greeter's voice as she walks alongside large groups, telling them all about the history of this place and sharing with you your purpose here in a hurried and urgent tone. "You're in luck that we have enough rooms for all of you; the housing building is getting awfully full. Please, let me show you into the courtyard."

You pass what looks like huge gymnasiums, all with dummies and targets strewn and splayed around the room. Training areas. There are even classrooms, and a few small offices. You're rushed past a large library while the Greeter informs you that you can find almost all your information there, if you've got the time to look—and trust her, you'll have time. You don't spend a lot of time in the bank, and it's a bit of a blur of exchanges with more and more of these strangely-accented and oddly polite-seeming members of the Initiative.

Soon enough, you're in a massive courtyard bustling with all the other Transports. It's not exactly what you'd expect, and it looks more like barracks than anything—huge walls of concrete and stone, separating you from all of the hallways you'd just passed through. It's raining heavily, and dark clouds loom in the air, though it hasn't turned to snow. It's a chill cold, and there are shelters—long cloth hangings that extend from the walls of concrete to house you from the rain, but not enough. Most notably, the courtyard is filled with a marketplace. Even in the cold and the rain, there are several citizens seated at their covered booths and tables, bundled up against the weather. They're selling all manner of their own handmade goods and foods, and citizens and Transports alike are traveling from one small covered shop to another in search of all manner of necessities. Now and then around you you might spot paper fluttering in the faint wind from somewhere relatively dry. It looks like a list.

The Greeter's voice has become so faint now, but you swear you can make it out in the back of the crowds as she tells you, "Good luck. Be safe!"

Her voice is drowned out by the busy marketplace, though even the transactions taking place are somewhat subdued. Nobody is overly happy, really, though most citizens can be found with smiles on their faces. It doesn't seem like they're that shocked to see you, either; even if you're not bound in tattered rags and wrapped in heavy shawls as they are. You're welcome to walk up to a shop, and find yourself something to eat—hey, maybe you'll even find something akin to a raincoat. Or, you can join the others under the coverings against the walls. Where am I? What war? She was talking so fast, and it didn't all make very much sense… did anyone else catch it all?

Welcome to the courtyard. Welcome to the Initiative Hold—and most importantly, welcome to Exsilium.

Comments

Nathan Explosion | Metalocalypse | OTA

[thats_brutal]

[Nathan stands at the table, staring down at the trays of cookies for a good five minutes. He doesn't move. He doesn't speak. He barely even seems to be breathing. Slowly, his eyes turn to the sign. These cookies are the least brutal things ever... but he's fucking hungry.

He picks up an entire tray and walks off.]

[ninjamanager]

... Nathan.

[Charles isn't sure whether he's relieved or mortified to see him here, but it is what it is, and that is some serious damage control needing to happen]

Nathan.

[thats_brutal]

[Holyshitwhatthefuckcharles? !The platter crashes to the ground. He hadn't expected anyone else to go with him, least of all CHARLES. He's... still not sure how he feels about the man after all the secrets he'd kept from them over the past few years. Yeah he did kick ass at the funeral but still... He slowly turns, staring at his manager]

Charles.

[ninjamanager]

[Charles looks down at the platter, then back up at Nathan, then down, then up again]

You, ah. You realize those weren't all for you, right? Other people --

[as SEVERAL other Transports are milling around them]

-- other people were probably meant to have those, too.

[thats_brutal]

[His eyes gaze down at the sad cookies being soaked in the rain.....

Wait. Rain is liquid... so is blood... blood cookies. That's brutal.

He looks up. Oh hey why is Charles standing there? Was he talking to him about something? He looks back down at the cookies. Oh. Right. ugh. He looks back up at Charles and lifts one hand to point at the sign that reads "Free-take what you want."]

You know, being a manager, I'd think you could read.

[ninjamanager]

I can read, Nathan, it's just - this isn't Mordhaus. That's probably not an unlimited supply of -

You know what? Nevermind. If people's blood sugar crashes and they decide to take it out on whoever ate all the food, it's on your head.

[thats_brutal]

[He glowers at Charles for a moment]

I'd ask what you have your panties in a twist over... [But he knows, bro. He knows.]

[ninjamanager]

[even if they were told that time's stopped, he still feels like ...]

We don't have time for this.

[he sighs]

[thats_brutal]

[Nathan nods, simply]

No we don't.

[They have more important shit to do, man]

[ninjamanager]

We should at least go find where we're supposed to stay. I can look onto how valid that "frozen time" line they gave us is.

[thats_brutal]

[He hesitates a moment before nodding. The whold "frozen time" sounds fucked up to him, too. How do they know for sure?]

This whole thing is just fucked up.

[grannyfucker]

[He has since moved on to better-frosted cookie pastures, but Nathan spots a burly guy with long hair further down the table trying to stare the cookies to death. As soon as he picks up the tray, Nathan finds himself trying to suppress a grin and some laughter, because he has already licked at least half of the cookies sitting on that tray.]

Oh, fair warning, pal, all of those biscuits that you're holding there taste like shit!

[thats_brutal]

[Oooooooh dick move.

Nathan approves.

His eyes slowly slide over to look at the guy who spoke to him. Why. why are people speaking to him?!]

Uuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh they're not biscuits. They're fucking cookies.

[grannyfucker]

[Don't take it personally, Nathan speaks to EVERYONE.]

Only if you're in America!

[thats_brutal]

Uuuuuuuuhno. [He points to the sign that reads COOKIES.] Cookies.