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Date & Time: November 23rd
Location: The Transport room
Characters: Richard, Trish, Lowell and Vennett
Summary: The Initiative regroup
Warnings: Language, possibly.

It is frankly astounding how much more human someone can feel, clean-shaven and showered. Reunions have been had and enough time has passed to settle nerves and start working out the important question of What Next?

Anyone trying to use the transport room during this time period will find it locked and frankly inaccessible as four Initiative members have used it as an impromptu meeting hall.

A little incredulous and overly disturbed, Vennett looks up from where the last few posts on the network scrolled or played out. "Y'watchin' this shit?"

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"No," Richard says shortly, currently admiring the insides of his eyelids. He has his fingers pressed firmly to his forehead. He wishes it was from a hangover. That he'd know he at least deserves.

"I most pointedly have not. Tell me, how bad is it continuing to get?" He opens his eyes. "And for which parties?"

"Outside of some bullshit with cat pictures," he snorts. "The upstarts are sittin' targets in that jail setup an' people have been takin' shots. Couple of everyone start workin' together, but looks like everyone's got a hot head."

More than that, everyone's distracted from the real problem.

"No," Lowell chimes in after Richard. Sorry Vennett, you're the only one who wants to see more of the Transport's bullshit.

"And I really don't want to know." Because really, it's just going to depress him more when he thinks about it. Every time he sees something on the network it feels like another step away from going back to the way things were. Where everyone he knew besides a handful of his co-workers were alive.

It's a little too late, as Vennett expresses his concerns to Richard.

"At this rate, it aint just the base that's fallin' apart."

"I know." Come on Vennett, he doesn't want to hear this!! Let him ignore everything for a while!

"Do you have a proposal for how we stop it, or are you just planning on complaining about it out loud?"

He leans on his elbow, chin in his palm. "I got one, aint sure how much others are gonna be keen on it."

"We won't know until you spit it out, mate."

"Well... I were just thinkin' 'bout what y'do when kids can't play nice. Just take t'toys away." He was aware that this echoed his own offer to the mutineers, the difference was permanence. "There's a couple a places were we could send em where they couldn't make too much of a ruckus til this is over an' tempers are cooled off on all sides."

"Great idea, Vennett. And on that note, can we send me away too? I'd like White Lake, New York, 1969. Because what you're offering sounds more like a reward than a punishment. Being here, stuck on this piece of rock, is punishment. We send them anywhere worse than this and it's inhumane. We send them anywhere better and it's a vacation."

Yeah. He's not really being helpful or positive right now, sorry bros.

He shrugs, a heavy lift and drop of one shoulder. "Way I see it, it's not 'bout what it is for them, as much as keepin' thems from each other." He sighs. "Honest, leavin' em locked up is fine an' just for me, seein' as what they did. But we aint got resources t'keep somma them kids from carvin' em off one bit at a time."

"Alright, it would keep them safer and separate from the rest of the Transports, true. But it runs the risk of reinforcing their loyalty to each other and make them less likely to want to work with us when we bring them back." Which is his real concern here.

"So does where they're at." It was, not just that, but risking turning the general population against them as well. "I imagine it depends on t'presentin' of it." A peace offering to them, and a humane prison to the rest of the Transports.

"Trouble is, aint none of us fancy talkers."

"Pretty bad for everyone all around." Not that Trish really has much basis for saying so, but her opinion of how the Transports have been handling themselves has completely tanked. They're going to have to come up with some pretty good ideas to win her opinion back. "It's like watching five-year-olds try to reenact a government."

"No good deed goes unpunished." She stops to dig around in her pockets, and comes up with a lollipop that looks worse for wear. She opts to suck on it anyway. Call it a nervous tick. "It's what we get for trying to help out. You sure we can't just send them all to deserted island somewhere? Maybe one with dinosaurs..."

"That barrier was hard as hell t'upkeep." Course, there's the possibility of just... not using it, but. That gets into that inhumane side of things. "Deserted island aint too bad an idea."

"Richard can be. Kind of." Throwing the man a look across the room. "...Or the AI." But isn't it a sad day when your Artificial Intelligence program is more of a smooth talking charismatic than a handful of humans?

"We can't keep up a barrier there." Not a 'we can't' for humane/inhumane reasons, but more a logical reason. That much energy being sent out when they already have such minimal energy going in, it's completely unreasonable they'd be able to set up a barrier.

"Kind of." The AI sure did keep itself a neutral party, but talking through a computer is not exactly the most open seeming route either. "Could see if tha Goodman bloke can put his money where his mouth is."

"Goodman already screwed the pooch on his neutrality with the vague threats he made. Which maybe we don't care about, but he's not going to be winning any favors with his attachment to Jesse Pinkman. My vote's on Roslyn Small, or... Sofiya Karimov."

"Miss Small seemed reasonable like." He scratches at his cheek idly. "Aint met this Karimov one, but you aint easy t'make a good impression on neither."

"I haven't met her myself, either. But she's popping up on the network everywhere there's Mutineer talk, claiming to be their lawyer." Which is met with a short snort-of-a-laugh. "So I looked into her file yesterday. One of the only ones where someone isn't really deep in it. So I think she's legitimate in wanting to represent the Mutineers, and who better to say their punishment to the Transports than the one who is taking credit for their protection?"

"Lawyer. What are we gonna have fuckin' court up here?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Everything seemed to go from extreme to extreme with these kids, "Got a point there, though."

He leaned back in his chair, studying the ceiling long enough to put his thoughts together. "After we all get some agreement, aint gonna hurt talkin' t'both." With something that big, he wasn't sure if either would accept.

"I think we are going to have a fucking court up here," Lowell replies, arms crossed. "So you've spoken to Small already?"

"Aint that a farce?" Vennett snorts. They haven't actually had anything better, but it was a waste of time and attention. "Yeah. Wanted t'know what I saw fit for a punishment."

"And I'm guessing you told her this idea?" Or not. Maybe this was meant to be top secret. In which case... oops.

"Said I'd have t'talk it out some. Weren't honestly sure what was me still bein' annoyed and what were an honest thought." He rubs at the back of his neck. "Weren't sure it should be my decision anyway."

"Her reasoning to me was that since we were the most relevant victims, we should decide. Which is absolutely bollocks reasoning." But at the same time, he wouldn't mind going with the alternative option Small had proposed. It was less harsh than stranding the Mutineers on an island and... maybe he was becoming slightly compromised, on two of the Mutineers behalves.

"Aint no modern system that works like that." There were still pockets, outside of the city proper... or had been. Possibly, they were still there now. "If y'got a better idea, I'll listen right proper."

Sounds normal and natural to Richard. He rolls his shoulders, hand coming up to massage his left side when it cracks audibly. "Wonderful. Simply wonderful. Any order rising up out of that chaos at all?"

"Five years olds run very simple governments," Richard said with a lazy drawl. "I want, and they try to take it. The better ones know how to share. Still means the I want ones end up with everything if no one on the playground stands up and shoves their nose in their own manure."

Mixed metaphors. He's fallen back on mixed metaphors.

"Who said anything about a barrier?" Looks like they were thinking the same thing. But she doesn't really seem to have any qualms with letting them fend for themselves.

"Yeah but at least they understand what the time-out corner means, and that they go there if they hit someone or steal a toy."

Where is this metaphor even going?

"Feels like there's not much we can really do about it either way. Kind of a shit deal with all the... you know. Everything that happens when you fix the past up. Makes it hard to take things back with us."

Memories. She means memories, but she's kind of hesitant to say it. She wonders if her own memories have been changed already, but if she past-self didn't leave anything for her to remember it by, she would have no idea.

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