(no subject)

[initiates]

Date: February 1st
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports have all arrived and have been shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings, while older Transports are returning from the mission to Uruguay.
Warnings: None.

While those who have been guests of Exsilium since at least the last wave of Transports return from their desperate mission and are pressed out of the Transporter room and into the Courtyard, the Initiative prepares to receive a second wave at the same time. And if you're in that second wave, the fresh meat, then 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.

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

[tofindthesun]

Is it? [a bit saddened by that, though not overly much.] ..I enjoy the rain, but it has been some time since I have seen the sun. Here I had hoped..

[still, he lowers his gaze, quite obviously affected by this piece of news, and not afraid to show it. but he picks up quickly enough.]

..Well. At least we will never want for water.

[maddeninghatter]

[ As much as he despised this boy's family, it had given him no joy to be right about Elliot Nightray. His tone softens, almost imperceptibly. ]

What is the last thing you remember?

[frombrooklyn]

But -- how'd you get like this, over here?

[ Steve's free hand makes a vague gesture that manages to encompass his face and upper torso all at the same time, drawing closer so that he can get a better look up at his friend, gaze concerned to see the differences there. ]

You look ... different.

[ The words are barely out of his mouth before he realizes their irony. If the reactions of the couple of others who've met him and recognized him are anything to go by, not to mention Bucky's own expression, then Steve himself must look no less strange. He gives himself a quick once-over before glancing back up. ]

Though I don't suppose I'm the same way you remember, either.

( ooc: apologies for the late tag! )

[have_hat_will_travel]

What can you do, though?

And of course, all those who just choose the unrepentant tyrant's path for the earthly glories... Well, if you're bad enough to end up there, you certainly haven't earned much sympathy on average.

[frombrooklyn]

Right. [ He makes his way after her, winding in and out of the crowd as they move to the other side of the courtyard. ]

It's nice to meet you, Max. My name's Steve. Steve Rogers.

( ooc: apologies for the late tag! )

[frombrooklyn]

Call me Steve, sir.

[ Steve thinks to himself that it's probably his own low temperature that's making the doctor's hand feel that warm, but even so, he does notice the warmth acutely. It makes the handshake that much more cordial, however, and he tries to reciprocate that. ]

Do they have anything for asthma? And does it cost a lot?

( ooc; sorry for the late tag! )

[kneecaptain]

[ Well, he doesn't know how to answer that. It's not such an unusual thing, getting older. But Bucky hadn't gone about it in the usual way. Not exactly.

It was an unsettling thing, having someone look at your face like there was something wrong with it. Maybe that was the situation talking— he's not kind enough to see his own gawking mirrored in Steve's face. ]

It's not 1941 anymore. Where I'm from.

( ooc: No worries, it happens! )

[justthedriver]

[ Nikolai moves quickly. He twists his wrists and grabs hold of Vanadi's elbow right after it collides with his ribs. He slowly, gently pushes it away and tucks it on Vanadi's side again. He's even kind enough to straighten out the arm for him!

And he pats it gently when he lets go. ]

You can ask me for name. [ Dryly. ] I might not answer, but most likely will.

[justthedriver]

[ He laughs at that, waving a hand and turning away. ]

Go find your [ what's the English word for it? ] self-validation somewhere else.

[frombrooklyn]

It does catch a fella off guard. It's never happened to me before this. [ Especially when he's never really been noticed before in his life, like Steve here, whose own smile is leaning toward being amused at the thought. ]

I hope I don't let you down.

[ This last borne out of a worry that'd begun to form in his mind after his second encounter; he wasn't entirely sure what the other him looked like, but it was becoming clear to him, going by the reactions he was getting, that Steve right now looked -- not as well off. ]

How long have you been around here?

( ooc; oho, awesommme! will be hitting it up soon/hopefully tomorrow *^*)

[ultimate_coordinator]

How can ... something like that ... be possible ...

[ Brb flashbacking about all the friends that died in his timeline so far. ]

If something like that was that easy ... then what is the point of all this?

[frombrooklyn]

[ 1941.

Steve ... blinks, taking that in, the implication there, tries to parse it and comes up empty handed. There's no way the dates match, not with the strange timeline business going on, not with anything else. ]

And that's Brooklyn, right? Where you're from. When both of us decided to enlist?

[ Even though that's impossible, Bucky hadn't looked like this then, but the time -- it has to match up. If it doesn't, then something is really, really wrong here. ]

[justthedriver]

I tell you already: I don't have many secrets.

[ That's a lie and not a lie all at the same time (isn't that the case always, with him?). Nikolai's secrets aren't what he has done for the vor - no, that he wears on his skin, tattoos that are marks of pride, marks of shame, marks of sin- all at once. No, his secrets are in his reasons, in the nebulous things that mean nothing and everything in the minds of men, depending on who you ask. His secrets are in hidden in the depths of his mind when he twists Kirill around his fingers, the the tearing of his heart when he thinks of children who are sold like cattle, and in every reaction he's not supposed to have.

Nikolai doesn't have many secrets. He shrugs. ]

Not many people can read. People who can, they deserve to know.

[ Or rather, he wants them to know. But what's the use of telling a hobbit about the vor. ]

[kneecaptain]

You're from Brooklyn. I'm not from anywhere.

[ He was born in Indiana, but they'd left Shelbyville before he could grow any memories of the place. ]

HAHAHAHAHAHA

[justthedriver]

[ No, Nikolai isn't the type. He's always the one leaving, shifting, the one pretending not to remember unless it serves him to. It's part of the job. Leave nothing behind except what is strictly necessary. He knows how to blend in, how to stick out, how to, in short, not be himself.

What does that mean, he isn't even sure nowadays. Nikolai is know what being human means. He knows that it's what he wants to be. But 'wants to be' is different from 'is', and he thinks it's been too long since he understands 'is'. 'Should be' is so much easier, so much more fitting.

There are spy movies he watched, from America, in which the spies are so overt and obvious, giving their names everywhere they go, and Nikolai gets a special kick out of it. It's so much wish fulfillment fantasy, he knows, but knowing doesn't mean that he can change it.

He scrapes his nail over the edge of the stain, turning it round and round. ]

Cold water and salt. [ He laughs quietly. ] Plenty of salt around, until people have to be told to eat less of it, because it makes them sick. [ His grin widens, just so very slightly. ]

Almost disappointed, that you don't have some magical cure for blood. [ He waves a hand. ] You should.

[implying]

[ That's a rather polite way to ask not to be touched, as far as those things go. So Vanadi only smiles, unoffended as ever, and keeps his arm at his side. ]

Well then— what's your name?

[sharpe]

An Elf! [ Yes, he did just exclaim it, loud enough to vibrate the raindrops that's closest to them. He laughs at himself. ]

Yer like the Lady Galadriel, then? Come from the same world, summat like that? [ He tilts his head, obviously curious. It'll probably just be his luck that this is a Lord or a Prince or some sort like that, and Sharpe will be in trouble for not calling him 'sir'. ]

[implying]

I feel completely certain that you won't, my dear. The Steve I recall is charming at any age, with or without memory of me.

[ Maybe not quite as appealing or easy on the eyes, but... well, he'd always had an attractive personality, and of course his face hasn't changed much. Small blessings. ]

I'm enjoying my seventh month here, and if I do say so myself, make rather an excellent tour guide for it. If you're ever looking for one, of course!

[frombrooklyn]

[ It's funny. The impossibility of the situation is what makes it seem even the smallest bit plausible to Steve. There's no way he came up with any of this, serum or no. A bit of a silence follows, and then, his voice quiet, ]

The ... you that I knew lived in Brooklyn. We knew each other from when we were kids.

[frombrooklyn]

[ A moment of slight, uncertain confusion because -- charming -- he doesn't think he's ever been that. Could be that. ]

Thanks. I'll try to be. [ He might need that tour, though, this place is more disconcerting than the meetings he's been having. ]

Seven months sounds like a long time -- you've been doing okay so far?

[kneecaptain]

[ He laughs. He doesn't know what else to do. Cripes. ]

I don't think you would've liked me much, back then.

[ Because Bucky didn't. Though it took him a few years to figure that out. ]

[heirwithouthope]

I'm surprised to say the same.

[He wasn't trying to cut anyone's throat anymore, but that doesn't mean he has to be sweet, either.

Though he gestures with his hand, almost brushing the comment aside.] So there are lords in this place. These sorcerers are taking more than just simple warriors for their war.

[Even as he says this, his eyes flick to the dagger at Kang's belt.]

[heirwithouthope]

[Chances were Thorin might not recognize an elf of Eregion just by sight, anyway. He wasn't a young dwarf anymore, but that was well before his time.]

And what do you go by, my lady?

[concealingeyes]

Heh, I figured.

[She laughs softly because it was a silly thing to ask but most adults, well, she doesn't really trust them to know what they're doing. She couldn't blame anyone for being lost in such a weird situation. But she has a good feeling about this guy.]

I don't know if I could do anything for you but it's an open offer. Knowing someone can be enough sometimes.

[heirwithouthope]

[Does this mean he has to stop wearing his boots and go around barefoot?

Frozen? [He repeats the word as though hearing it from his own lips would make it any more logical. Spoiler tag: it doesn't. However, this all seems to be the work of some dark, yet powerful wizard. He couldn't very well explain how Gandalf could make light shoot from a walking stick, perhaps time could be told to wait.]

They would have to be master thieves, even craftier than your uncle.

[There was an entire mountain of gold that could be used to pay for his safe return, but some tiny worm in his stomach crawls restlessly at the thought of the Initiates getting a single piece of their treasure.]