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

[loyalism]

[Don't start him off about being a well-adjusted member of society. Just don't. Angst forever.

But he hears that sigh, and sees Adam self-consciously hiding his hands away, and makes a mental note that the prosthetics seem to be a sore subject.]

I've seen something like them before. I don't suppose you've heard of "Madnar"?

[Clearly the best way to deal with a sore subject is to keep talking about it.]

[neveraskedforthis]

No.

[ Madnar doesn't sound like Darrow, after all. Maybe it's another manufacturer--Adam doesn't know about all of them, but then again the way Fox says it, it doesn't sound like it's a common thing where he's from. ]

Prosthetics are very advanced where I'm from. I was unlucky.

[loyalism]

So was he.

[He could easily mean Madnar, but something about the way he say it suggests it's much more personal than a name he would mention so casually.

For a minute or two he says nothing, watching the crowds again but not really paying attention to them.]

...It seems odd, if they're so advanced, that there was no apparent effort to make them appear natural. I take it they're not... civilian standard.

[neveraskedforthis]

[ Hmmm. There's probably more to that, but Adam doesn't feel like prodding right now. Gotta be careful and take one step after another with this guy, according to his CASIE profile. ]

It all depends on what you're able to afford, and what kind of look you're going for.

[ No point in lying... ]

But you're right. Mine are military grade.

[loyalism]

Why would someone who's not military require military grade prosthetics, I wonder?

[Because it's obvious that Adam is not, from the way he'd enquired about Fox being a soldier, and also how he'd failed to ask rank or unit when Fox had confirmed. But from the way Jensen had been keeping an eye on them...]

Security? [Glancing at Adam again.]

What year are you from, Jensen?

[neveraskedforthis]

Private security.

[ He's not going to answer that first question, because guess what, it's still not a happy topic for him and he also doesn't feel like telling his story to some stranger. It's best to just stick to the basics. The year, too, is something he has no problem talking about. ]

2027. Detroit.

[loyalism]

Well, that explains a few things. 1999. Nowhere in particular.

[He carelessly tosses his spent cigarette into a puddle and gestures towards Adam.]

These things are common by then, I take it?

[neveraskedforthis]

More or less. There's a big market for augmentations. Kind of a controversial topic.

[ Well that's an understatement, but Adam's not in the mood to explain the whole matter in great detail--doesn't matter anyway. ]

Prefer the nomadic lifestyle?

[loyalism]

Being in the military means moving around a lot.

[It's not a lie. It's most certainly not the truth.]

I'm not really attached to anywhere.

[neveraskedforthis]

[ Yeah no that just sounds like you don't want to give out more info.

Which is fine. He doesn't need everyone's life story, or motivations, a general first impression will do. He's almost done with his cigarette, and will leave Fox to his own devices then. ]

Then you shouldn't have a hard time adjusting.

[loyalism]

I suppose not.

[Just another job for a mercenary. It even sounds like a cause he would fight for.]

Most places I end up aren't quite so dystopian, though.

[neveraskedforthis]

No, but I'm sure the scenery isn't so different.

[ Given how uh rundown and destroyed everything here is. If you're not used to that YOU ARE PROBABLY NOT A GOOD SOLDIER.

Oh and it'll be even worse starting tomorrow, but shh.

Also done with his cigarette now, flicking it away. ]

Nice talking to you.

[loyalism]

[The problem is it's all a little too familiar. So much of what he's heard so far hits uncomfortably close to home...

He's not even going to begin to talk about that, though.]

Likewise. Maybe we can talk again sometime.

[And if not, he's going to be stalking you anyway.]