transport log » ❝ welcome to Exsilium ❞

[initiates]

Date & Time: Sept 23rd, 2012.
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports have all arrived and have been 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. "This isn't standard," she's saying, walking perhaps faster than most of the people she's dragging around. "We don't normally have so many Transports at once. 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. 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. 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

[trustycrowbar]

At the moment? I'm on my own.

[He thinks so. So far his employer representative hasn't appeared to him to tell him otherwise. It might be too early to hope, but he's starring to wonder if that skinny bastard in the suit even knows he's here...]

[raisedbybirds]

[Sufficient enough. She'll take that shake--a little awkward like she's forgotten how but it's earnest.]

I'm much the same. Galactic Federation military and police...

...formerly.

[trustycrowbar]

Galactic... [He would have been shocked by this, if he hadn't already met others representing offworld alliances. Maybe this guy ought to meet Shepard...]

How long space-fairing has your world been, out of curiosity?

[raisedbybirds]

As long as I can remember...

[She trails off pensively. She's only been here a short while but it's become apparent time has little meaning here. It was difficult to formulate any kind of comparison not knowing where, or when, Gordon hailed from.]

[trustycrowbar]

[He's quick to supply his own explanation, however. As would be suspected, he's gone through this with Shepard. It was a humbling experience.]

I'm from barely out of the twentieth century, myself. We were still proud of the fact that we went to the damn moon, and we hadn't made much contact with exoplanetary species either...

[raisedbybirds]

Hnn...

[The concept of alternate dimensions and weird timelines wasn't unheard of for her--uncommon, but not unheard of. Comparing his time with hers, it seemed like far too big of a leap to take in such a short time; from struggling to get to the moon to drive units on starships and homicidal organic super AIs.]

For what it's worth, it doesn't seem to line up with my timeline. At 2055 there's the presence of Earth Colonies on different planets... and well-established ones at that.

[Like hers.]

And plenty of contact with different species.

[trustycrowbar]

[Yup. He needed the reminder that his world is behind schedule. Thanks.]

Well... we've made contact with creatures in other planes of existence. Which I suppose is similar; it certainly made this place no surprise for me.

[raisedbybirds]

Like what?

[It's hardly asked incredulously or with any sarcastic edge: she's genuinely curious.]

[trustycrowbar]

Well... to put it frankly, the kinds of things you'd need that suit for. I said we had contact, I didn't say that we enjoyed it. With the exception of one species, they've all wanted to either invite us into their life cycles as food or a host, or invade and subjugate us. Neither one we were really prepared for.

When an accident [well... to HIM it was an accident.] tore holes in the brane demarcation between worlds and left them to freely enter, we lost most of the science team.

[raisedbybirds]

...That's unfortunate.

[Her previous experiences with accidents of that nature lead her to pessimistically assume it was the result of scientists meddling with something they shouldn't have--something they couldn't control.]

And unfortunately a familiar story.

The most persistently troublesome specie I've encountered were known as Metroids. Scientists often tried to control or exploit their energy harnessing capabilities... or turn them into bioweapons.

Often with fatal results.

[trustycrowbar]

[He fidgets with his glasses, looking slightly amazed at the similarities.]

They made some preliminary attempts to do the same thing at Black Mesa, before everything went to hell too. Of course, I didn't find this out until after the fact. I was just a research associate at the time.

[Okay. Samus may be waterproof, but the acid rain's starting to make him itch. So a short few steps under a market tent he goes.]

[raisedbybirds]

[Good idea. She'll move as well but positions herself outside of the tent and in such a manner that would block any wind-blown rain from getting in. No sense in taking up precious cover when she doesn't need it and Gordon does.]

You weren't aware at all?

[She carefully files away the name Black Mesa.]

How many survived?

[trustycrowbar]

[He notices that, and gives a vague nod and a low, murmured thanks.]

No. They'd been... taking samples from that world for months or years, but that was all the way across the complex and several levels of security above mine.

If I had to guess... a few dozen. But there were hundreds employed there, probably closer to a thousand. Between the zombies, marines and alien troops, hardly anyone stood a chance.

[He sounds oddly conversational in talking about an atrocity like this... like it almost didn't happen to him. It's probably a reaction Samus has seen before.]

[raisedbybirds]

[Indeed. That sort of dis-attachment is necessary, especially in situations like that. Still, it's an unfortunate tale to hear.]

It sounds like you got out of a bad situation with a bad employer.

[trustycrowbar]

[He huffs a voiceless laugh.] Yeah, you could say that. But I think the phrase "out of the frying pan, into the fire" applies here.

[raisedbybirds]

Understatement of the century.

Not that time means much anymore here either.

[trustycrowbar]

[Gordon's decided he likes this guy. He's easy to talk to, for someone that looks like a robot.]

So did they tell you all you needed to know back in that briefing? I know they don't have a history of being completely forthcoming about things. If you've got a question, I can try to answer it.

[raisedbybirds]

The briefing was... brief.

[Not something she wasn't used to. She did have quite a few questions, though if she could figure them out herself first without asking, she would prefer that.]

For now all I'll ask is that you get yourself a decent umbrella.

[Indirectly spoken, but she's decided she likes him too.]

[trustycrowbar]

Hn, I think I can manage that.