(no subject)

[initiates]

Date: April 1st
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports arrive and are shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings.
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.

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

[2leftfeet]

The usual? [That earns an eyebrow on the rise and half a head tilt. Where are you coming from that brainwashing drugs are standard fare?

But it's also not really a question Shepard cares to ask. Not just yet and not when it hardly seems applicable to the larger problem at hand.] Has anyone tried a rescue or any kind of recovery to see if it's a permanent state? Or are things in the present really as quiet as they seem? [Surely this entire war can't be fought on the Initiative's jumps back along the time line, can it?]

[totallytrustworthy]

Mm. [That question just earns a quiet little shrug; going into the details of the Order and all its workings seems a bit too personal to be dug up-- particularly when she can still remember the dig of the needle in her thigh and Talbot--]

We've caught a few. Pulled them off their fix and did our best to sort them out. They came through about as well as any addict, but yeah, still made it. If you're lucky you might even bump into one or two while you're here.

Wow whoops I'm super good at formatting up there

[2leftfeet]

[That gets her attention.] I'm guessing someone's already asked them for everything they know about the UE? [It's a formality more than anything. There has to be at least one person with sense on this godforsaken little rock, so surely someone's done that legwork already.]

Shh shh I don't see anything it never happened

[totallytrustworthy]

They were the ones that told us about the iPod upstairs. Most of us had the chance to listen in, problem is the drug makes it more than a little hard to remember.

Getting more than that? Not gonna happen without taking a trip ourselves.

[2leftfeet]

Let me guess - the UE isn't big on the whole tourism thing. [So they were fighting a war where they were outgunned and outmanned against and enemy that wasn't exactly mortal to begin with.

Sounds about right.]

Is there any kind of council here or connection with the Initiative higher ups? Any real organization or is it as rag tag as it looks? [Maybe the marketplace with it's lean to stands and sad scraps of awning are just a bad first impression. Who knows; maybe despite the lack of understanding about their own tech, there's a healthy and flourishing combative organization either from within the Initiative itself or from some enterprising Transport. Surely they were expected to fly blind into this mess, right?]

[totallytrustworthy]

[Chloe laughs. It's not meant to be patronizing, god knows she wishes there was something put in place to keep things steady from the ground up, but there's not and there's never been-- or if there is it's well out of reach and pathetically inefficient. She stifles it well enough at the tail end with her mouth shoved up against the palm of her hand.]

--Christ, no. The whole thing's a bloody mess, darling. Maybe one day we'll get lucky and we'll go back and steal a crayon drawing or chipped cup that will fix the lack of common sense around here, but somehow I sincerely doubt it.

[2leftfeet]

Perfect. [The utterly dead flat chime to the word is as dripping with sarcasm as possible. So: similar odds as home, with even less infrastructure. Great.]

How long have they been pulling people here? I mean, are there people who've been here for years? [Looking around, it could go either way. Sure, the Initiative is hauling over so many people on each pull if the crowd she was bustled through with is any indication - from what she could pull up on the tablet, the island's only so big and they're only using one block of housing as far as she can tell. But. Well. Either the person with the longest term hasn't been here long or their turnover rate is as fast as the lack of organization would lead her to believe.]

And what happens if you die here? [She doesn't know much about time travel, but that seems like the sort of thing that would be a problem. Send people who don't belong here to fight in your wars, get them killed - seems like a good way to screw up more things in the past than might be strictly useful.]

[totallytrustworthy]

Far as I know the current veterans have racked up over a year. Closing in on that mark myself, as well. [Which-- for a reason she can't pinpoint or dwell on-- puts Chloe momentarily on edge.]

As for dying, they bring you back good as new. Not sure how, and I'm sure as hell not fighting for a chance to experience it personally, but the memories of it stick down to the last, so it's not a 'drop another out of a dispenser' deal. [ Oof. Come to think of it this is all a bit too heavy for her tastes. She finally gives in, angles the line of her profile off towards the coffee stall again.] Care for a cup? In weather like this, it's one of the better ways to keep warm.

[2leftfeet]

[If she wasn't a bit dour already, Shepard sobers at answer to her latter questions. Ressurection science isn't unfamiliar to her, but it's not something she's terribly comfortable with either - doesn't trust it and sometimes wonders if she's really still... all there (but she wouldn't know, would she?).

Moreover, it sure as hell shouldn't even be possible in a place like this. Not when they're still getting on the extranet with a hard wire tablet and running on actual hard coin money. Then again, there shouldn't be any way for them to pull people out of their own timelines should there? And yet--]

I'm good, but I'll tag along if you don't mind the company. [She's not entirely sure this isn't some kind of excessively elaborate ruse. Or maybe she's just hoping it is - in which case, she's probably better off staying away from ingesting anything until she can run some comprehensive scans.]

[totallytrustworthy]

No, no. Feel free. [Attempting to keep the rain at bay is about as futile and endeavor as anyone could ever hope to attempt in this place. Chloe steps out into the worst of it, jacket collar high around her throat to at least help keep her shirt from soaking through and giving her yet another cold. (Thank you, Mr. Cutter) The line's not long, and even for barely decent coffee the smell is bloody intoxicating the longer she waits to set in an order. Five minutes later (really, what were they doing up there?) and Chloe turns back with two cups of iced coffee.]

Chloe Frazer, by the way.

[2leftfeet]

[Shepard doesn't like the idea of waiting, but it's cold and raining and at least here under one of the awnings she has enough cover at her back that no one can flank her very easily. So she waits, watching for the other woman to reappear from the line. When she does, Shepard simply gives the second cup an arc look.]

Shepard. --I might be wrong, but iced coffee doesn't seem like the kind of thing to keep you warm.

[totallytrustworthy]

Hey, I offered to get you whatever you wanted. [ Chloe shakes the cup, angles it towards Lydia while she sips from her own.] Turn down hot, you get cold.

Come on. Don't make me drink alone, darling.

[2leftfeet]

And I said I was good. [Deadpan as anything, though she does at least take the cup off Chloe's hands and gives it a quick sniff. Smells life coffee, but it's cold and she honestly has no interest in it.

Coffee doesn't have any business being chilly or sweet, particularly not in weather like this.]

[totallytrustworthy]

Jesus, love, take the stick out will you? [ It's light, mild at worst, though she certainly means what she's saying.] You won't last in a place like this if you don't take a second to breathe.

[2leftfeet]

I can't. [She lowers the cup slightly and glances across the length of the muddy little market aisle, all too small awnings and the press of people both familiar with the place and utterly bewildered by it.] It's what keeps my back up.

[totallytrustworthy]

Ah.

[She sips at her own cup, glances about in an effort to follow the woman's train of thought. It's not hard to piece some of the puzzle together (military, determined, obviously in one hell of a rush to get back) so yeah, maybe the need to run forward is a feeling Chloe identifies with on some level.

Or at least the need to run towards an open horizon.]

Well, we'll just take it slow till you get out of here. Or-- you know, not slow. Whatever.

And please tell me you at least drink beer.

[2leftfeet]

[Shepard tips her head, makes a very low noise not unlike a laugh.] Well I prefer a good brandy, but sure. I drink beer.

[And maybe Chloe has a point. Maybe she's being crazy (though it's not like she'd blame herself if she was; she's in a goddamn alternate universe). To hell with it. Shepard gives the iced coffee another sniff then a tentative sip.]

[totallytrustworthy]

We have mediocre brandy. Close enough.

I'll see if I can't find something better on my next trip out. [Rude as it might be, Chloe lives her life pressing the limits of social boundaries, She taps her cup against Shepard's, offers up an easy wink from beneath dark hair that's quickly soaking through.] Cheers, love. Welcome to the party.