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

[doubleoohbaby]

It doesn't make me feel better.

[Because multiverse stuff hurts his head if he thinks on it for too long.

But hey, at least there's alcohol to soothe his aching brain, which he gladly reaches for once ordered (sorry Charlie, it's a beer, not a martini) and wastes no time in swigging down several large mouthfuls.]

You seem to be handling all this rather well.

[alittlesweptup]

[Charlie shrugs, taking a few long drinks from his beer.] Why not -- given the options which are, so far as I can make: dead, coma dream, some combination of the two or dimensional time slip, I'll take the dimensional time slip mate.

[Besides, he's having a drink with James Bond. It's difficult not to be at least a bit sunny about the whole thing even if circumstances do end of more tied up with the 'dead' or 'dying' options.]

You're... [Don't say fictional.] ...more accommodating than I would have expected. Been here long then?

[doubleoohbaby]

[A soft nod at the logic behind the whole dead or not thing. Bond had, for a brief moment, thought he may be dead on his arrival. That this might be some twisted joke played by Death herself, but that seemed just as unlikely as dimensional travel. Plus he wasn't even doing anything when he showed up hear. Unless someone bombed the MI6. Maybe... But nah.

James Bond doesn't die.]

You sound as if you already had an idea of what I'd be like. First impressions, was it?

[Ignoring Charlie's question for now :|]

[alittlesweptup]

[Cue a momentary pause, one in which Charlie busies himself with another long drink from his beer.]

I'm usually pretty good at, ah, reading people. [Reading. You're not funny, Charlie Cutter.]

[doubleoohbaby]

[As if that's not suspicious at all. Yeah, he's reading you too, Charlie. Like a goddamn book. And not one by Ian Fleming either.]

And I imagine it has nothing to do with any previous knowledge you might have?

[There is a look. One that clearly says 'I'm on to you, you fucker :|'. It's a very charming look. Sort of.]

[alittlesweptup]

[Shit. He's pretty sure his coma-dream imaginary James Bond shouldn't be allowed to catch on to him. He's pretty sure that's a rule -- or that it should be. And now he has a couple of options, none of which make him seem any less suspicious.

Time to get theoretical, he supposes. Best chance as any. Charlie takes a long drink.]

It's what I was saying earlier: that whole bit about evil twin universes being what it is - physics, you know. In one universe, you're you and in mine you're-- well, you're still you. Just a little less... [He makes a vague motion with his hands, screws up his face. Wonders for a moment what Bradbury would think of telling someone they're fictional constructs.] Tangible, let's go with. So yeah, "previous knowledge." You could say that.

[doubleoohbaby]

[And now the truth comes out. James has heard it all before, actually, and a lot less subtly thanks to some people around here. But that doesn't mean he can't make his current company squirm a bit. Making situations as awkward as possible is James' speciality.]

So you're suggesting I'm not real? Imaginary, perhaps? My God, I could just be your latest imaginary friend. I'll ask if anyone can see me, one second-- [Yeah, he's just leaning towards the crotchety looking guy sitting near them...]

[alittlesweptup]

No, no, that's not-- Actually, it's the reverse. [Yeah, that part about making things awkward? Is really just encouragement for Charlie to hook into the idea. Because if they're pretending this is actually happening - if this isn't something in his head -, then might as well roll with the idea right?] You're obviously real here, whereas in your universe I may very well not be. Or I could not exist at all. I guess that's possible.

The point is -- [And he's speaking quickly here in some attempt to dissuade Bond] -- there's a bit of novelty that hasn't worn off just yet. Sorry, mate.

[doubleoohbaby]

[The old guy gets left alone, thankfully, and James turns his attention back to Charlie, a smirk curling lightly at the corner of his lips.]

Something to do with films and books. Mm, I'm aware of it all. One man's fiction is another man's reality. [Except he doesn't actually like to think on it too much, because it's just weird.]