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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.

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[Her head quirks faintly at the latter, a slight frown catching at the corner of her mouth. Unless she's mistaken, that leaves her with at least a few minutes of lost time if not more.] What do you remember last?

[It's the only way she can think to broach the subject without facing it head on - without causing any overdue concern either from him or in herself. The last time she'd found herself waking up in a strange place, missing time and given marching orders by shadowy superiors hadn't been her favorite thing in the galaxy and she hadn't really been anticipating a repeat performance anytime soon but--

Well, here they were.]

[ An odd question, he thinks, but he answers without hesitation, almost automatically. Shepard asks, he answers. ] The Collector ship exploding behind us as we made for the mass relay.

[ He glances around him at their surroundings before picking up his pace just a little, the housing building close ahead. The sooner inside the better, he thinks. ] How are they keeping the population from demanding a return?

[Which leaves a gap, but it's not big enough of one that it warrants any discussion right now. She lengthens her stride along with his.] The local word is that they don't know how. I can't say for sure if that's true or not.

[But part of her, some low sinking part, thinks it must be. There's something about this place that speaks simply of people stuck where they've landed and they certainly can't be the first people to come here with good reason to get home. Not that she's ever trusted anyone else's initiative, but the point stands - more than likely there's some grain of truth about the Initiative barely knowing how to use their own technology.

The few paces left to the housing building are crossed, rain catching off the doorway and directly on top of their heads as Shepard leads the way ducking through. The smooth, polished floors inside are met with a moment's hesitation if only because of how bizarre they are in comparison to the muddy courtyard. She finds her hands itching for her rifle.]

That seems very foolish of them. [ A pause, and then more grimly. ] Or very desperate. Either way any attempt at a bargain seems unlikely.

[ He lets the door close behind them and breathes out, glancing behind him at the outside as he takes off the raincoat and shakes it off before folding it neatly over his arm. He may need it again. Everything in here almost shines, in contrast to everywhere else. It's a jarring difference, enough to settle again in his mind that the Initiative has put a great deal of effort into acquiring all of their captives, for lack of a better word. And an equal amount of effort into caring for them, at least superficially. ] Which apartment are you?

[From the looks of things here, they aren't the first new transports to make this one of their first stops; most of the people roving the hall look unsettled and confused, some of them very young. It looks more like a refugee camp - a very, very polished one - than the staging grounds for a war.]

602. [She answers absently, but then refocuses - snaps her attention back to him. She doesn't ask his. Right now the idea of parting ways isn't a subject she wants to touch.] Let's go check it out. Maybe there'll be some kind of welcome packet. [It kinds of seems like that sort of place. If nothing else, there's probably a chair or two where they can tinker with the network and see what they can do about getting out that encrypted message.]

[ He's watching the others around them carefully as they move. If this place is trying to bring in soldiers, everyone around them could be a potential threat. Some of them are very young, but he's not inclined to write any of them off as harmless or even less dangerous on that basis. His most - productive year had been at 14. ]

We can hope. [ He's not inclined to bring up the idea of separating either, nor has it actually particularly crossed his mind. He has no intention of leaving her alone in this place until they know more. ] And this network may be of use.

[She issues a curt nod and then makes for the elevators, wary enough that she gives most of the transports they pass a wide berth by habit more than need.] Either way, having an apartment should make for a decent base of operations until we make our next move.

[Whatever that might be. Right now she's just running forward for the sake of preserving a sense of momentum - what exactly she's running toward is a different matter altogether. But simple tasks: call the elevator, find the apartment, survey the layout and get a message out. Those are all things she can do.]

[ He's fallen almost automatically into a position just a few steps behind her to one side, trying to ensure that he can watch her back as well as the front, cover angles. There's a gap where a second squadmate should be, but that cannot be changed yet. ] Perhaps others of the crew will show up.

[ Not that it is to be wished for, but it would make things more familiar, reassure him as to their fate. And it would give Shepard more to work with. ]

It's possible. [She doesn't know if the idea is a welcome one or not. Part of her wouldn't mind someone she's sure she can rely on in this situation; the other part-- Shepard throws him an unbidden sideways glance as the lift trundles down to their floor. The atmosphere and what seems like some pretty backwater tech can't be a good indicators for him.

The lift arrives and she steps on, taking flanking cover on one of the side walls out of habit. She clicks the right floor on the control panel and allows herself to be a little relieved when no one else steps onto the elevator before the doors close and it starts upward.]

[ He catches her glance, nods a little before glancing backwards again, his scan constant and his shoulders tense. It's good to not have anyone else on the elevator, though, and he sighs out and considers. ]

Have you spoken to any of this place's residents?

A few. People don't seem to know much more than what we got in the debrief. [Assuming his was the same as the one she got.] Apparently they're fighting some kind of rogue AI.

[Beyond that, what you see seems to largely be what you get here. She isn't sure if that's a good thing or a bad one, but she does know it doesn't speak very well to the quality of leadership here. On the plus side, that likely leaves them more maneuvering room. On the other hand...--]

I get the sense we're not coming in at the tail end of the fight.

It seems like a large war effort for one rogue AI. It must be entrenched. [ And that would have taken some time. His opinion of their competence is not rising in the slightest.

And at that last comment he nods, slowly. ] It seemed from what the guide said that it was very much ongoing.

Very. Most of the fighting force is some kind of networked AI as well. The human population in the UE is controlled by some kind of drug to keep them sedate. [While she's not clear on the timeline, it definitely seems like the sort of thing that's been going on for decades if not generations. The whole concept is chilling, too close to familiar for comfort.

The elevator winds to a halt on the sixth level. Shepard waits inside a moment even after the doors have opened - longstanding habit born of being fired on the moment a set of doors open - and then she swings out into the hall with her hand itching to be at her gun. Instead she makes her way down to 602, pulling out the key the Initiative representative had given her upon arrival as she goes. Keys. Talk about ancient history. Where the hell was she supposed to keep a key?]

Edited 2013-04-27 08:29 (UTC)

That is very extensive. [ To an extent that is more than a little worrying. If it has been in power for so long, this reads less like a war and more like a last-ditch desperate attempt. The act of desperate men. It is not something to inspire a great deal of confidence.

Not that anything about this situation really is. He holds back that moment as well before stepping back out into position, glancing up and down the hallway in search of anyone or anything that could present a threat as she opened the door. ] I wonder where they got this technology, if they are otherwise so powerless.

Edited (the one time i don't hit preview!!) 2013-04-27 22:03 (UTC)

No idea, but it was a hell of a lucky break. [For the Initiative, not them. Or maybe them too if their story about the UE harvesting resources from other universes held any water. But for now she's not feeling terribly charitable - is willing to believe that much is bullshit.

When they reach 602, she jams the key in the lock and fumbles with it for a few moments before managing to turn it the right direction. She pops the door- again with that tell tale pause - and then swings it open. The apartment is... well.]

Nice digs for the end of the world.

For them at least. [ Unaware that he is voicing the same lines she is thinking along. He lets himself settle somewhat as the door closes behind them, though after he sets the raincoat on a hook his first move is to begin a quiet and thorough sweep for bugs or any other kind of device that could be used to compromise their privacy. ]

They are more spacious than I anticipated.

Well it's a nicer dorm than the ones at N-School. [She throws him a sidelong glance. Doesn't smile even if it's a joke.

Following a similar path, Shepard moves through the apartment and pushes open doors. It's empty, though there are clear signs of habitation in at least one of the rooms and a second one is marked by a few very sparse personal belongings. One has the bedclothes folded neatly at the foot, every surface wiped down and pristine. The window looking out is small with a view of the market and little else. She pauses at it, her hand still near her gun-- and then she checks the bathroom, leans her rifle against the wall and starts working open the clasps of her armor. She goes to stand in the doorway as she does it: a vague instinct urging her to keep eyes on him.]

I can't get my omni-tool connected to their extranet. Have you tried yours?

[ He meets her glance with a curious look of his own, considering for a moment the prospect of her at N-School, the strict discipline of such a program. It's a curious thought.

By the time she comes back to the doorway he has finished his sweep, for now at least, is making his way to the bedroom even as she comes out back out. ]

I will try now. [ The door is locked behind them and they are as close to safe as he can guarantee they are right now. There is something more at ease about him even as he remains as taut and stretched ready for anything as ever. ] They may not be compatible.

That's what I'm afraid of. [Hopefully there's a work around; there's a reason she doesn't just carry around datapads. She likes to keep her hands free if she can and if she has to put up with toting that tablet around all day-- well, no one's ever described her as terribly patient.

She strips down to her under armor as he tries to get connected to their network, mentally tallying up a supply list in her head. If they're expected to stay here for long, she's overwhelmingly under equipped for it.]

Kasumi would likely already know. [ Kasumi's skillset would be useful here, actually. But then it would not do to wish more of their crew here. Still, he thinks he can manage this. The connection looks possible.

A glance over at her as she strips down, somewhere between momentary distraction by her presence and evaluation of their supplies. ] They must have ammunition, at least.

They must, or they'd outfit us on their own. [Or hopes they would. From what little she knows, the Initiative doesn't seem to have a lot of foresight. Still, she can't imagine they'd equip people with weapons they couldn't actually use. Surely no one was even that stupid.] Their armory looked pretty packed. If they don't have something exact, I'll bet they have something that can be modded.

[Which is going to take a better pair of hands than hers if it comes down to it, though she hopes it won't. Not for the first time that day - likely not the last either - she feels a dull, sharp pang of off-footedness; she could use her crew here, as much as the idea of having the lot of them dragged here seems entirely unappealing. An unfair desire, even.]

I am not convinced of their intelligence by any means, but I do not think they would be that foolish, no. [ Almost absent minded as he concentrates on his omnitool and the connection, finally establishing the beginning of one. ] I think I have it.

[ He drops his own arm and steps towards her, holding a hand out for her omnitool so he can begin to fiddle with it. He will not be able to accomplish anything fancy, but he can route a signal enough to function at least. ] Let me see.

[Bringing it up, she offers her arm without bothering to remove the omnitool. She's not asking for anything fancy; as long as she can connect to the basic network, it'll be a hell of a lot handier than having to cart around the stone tablet that the Initiative calls a communication device.]

Thanks.

[ He bends over it, attention fully on the omnitool for a little while as he seeks to replicate what he had done on his. After a minute or so of fiddling he lets go of the omnitool, lets it fade back into the air, but one hand lingers on her wrist. ] You are welcome.

[It's not the time or the place, but it never is and the apartment has at least the semblance of being removed from any kind of warfare with it's dishes in the sink and random personal articles scattered throughout the common room. She has to make a post to the network. She has to see if the rest of her crew is here as well.

But if so they'll hold for a moment. She abruptly catches his hand at her wrist with her own, gives his fingers a gentle squeeze.]

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battlesleep - 2013-05-14 17:37 (UTC) - Expand

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