station72 | [hatch log] pull plug, enter multiverse

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[hatch log] pull plug, enter multiverse

CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: The Station + Concordia
WHEN: DAY :025 - :026
SUMMARY: Somewhere deep in Station 72, a hatch happens; new hosts arrive on Concordia.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary.

YOU WAKE UP and in a very real sense you are born again. You’re not the same person you were the last time your eyes were open. You’ll never be that person again - well, except for you, Jessica Jones. You know how this part goes, don’t you?

You might not know it right away, though. What you do know is that you’re laying down in a place very different than you were before. The walls angle around you, claustrophobic, and they emit a gentle white light that’s faint enough not to hurt your freshly opened eyes. For a moment you feel fine even if you didn’t before you went under. Whatever injuries you might have had, whatever agony you may have been experiencing, whatever fear dogged your heels, they’re all gone. It’s quiet. When you’re conscious enough to take stock of anything beyond that, you realize that you’re wearing your own clothes and that there’s a faint pinch at the base of your skull - notable as the only discomfort you feel. Reach up, feel along the tube running from the base of your neck to the compartment’s back wall. It pulls free without much fuss.

Then it’s not so quiet anymore. There’s the sensation of something more, something louder, something both big and broad and something intimately near to you. There’s the realization that you aren’t alone, that you won’t ever be alone again. You belong here. This is as correct as the murmur of something like muffled voices in the back of your head is somehow familiar, or how the press of emotion that sweeps over you now doesn’t necessarily belong to you but doesn’t feel out of place either.

You can sit up - barely -, and shift out of the pod. There’s a ladder at your feet, and a little cubby just before it with anything you brought with you, as well as a set of crisp, loose-fitting white clothes; while your injuries are healed, whatever you’re wearing is in the exact state it was before. You can hear a sound in the back of your head, a faint buzzing, something like distant waves or the murmur of a party behind a door. Drop down the ladder to the floor of the Nesting Deck and you’ll find you’re not alone - and the those sounds in your head are louder. Other people’s thoughts swim up: some of them seem clear, most of them are a jumbled mess. Some of these people call to you - their voices are louder, their feelings more clear, they feel right. Further, there’s an awareness that there are others like you - not here, not close, but somewhere: an indelible tug at the back of your mind.

Welcome to Station 72. All new hosts will have one day aboard the Station before being whisked off to Concordia to join the others. Get to know the other new hosts, and ask the guardians of the Station - Prince and Cathaway -, any burning questions you might have. By the time the day has passed, Carata will arrive on the hangar to collect you.

MEANWHILE IN CONCORDIA Angel slips into a coma on :025 at almost at the exact same time that some Hosts become aware of missing pieces fitting into place. Those hosts with new brood members waking up on the station will feel somewhere more complete; you might want to let everyone know you’ll be getting new roommates soon.

Everyone might be putting themselves and their broods back together in the wake of the explosion that left the nest down one host and injected everyone with renewed motivation to either find the people responsible or make sure nothing like what happened at Royal Street ever happens again. Things are progressing on multiple fronts, but on DAY 26 there’s an option to put some of those efforts on the back burner...

     ON THE STATION, the new hosts are herded onto a sleek, black brick-shaped transport. Carata, a woman young enough to almost be called a girl, carefully makes sure everyone is seated and strapped in. She’s all gentle, easy smiles and cheerful responses to any questions posed to her. When everyone’s safely aboard, the ship’s landing platform descends through the floor of the hangar. It snaps into place in the airlock and for a moment there’s a beat of perfect stillness, a shiver of anticipation. Then the transport is flung through the shaft, ejected into the wild black of space. There’s a nauseating lurch in your belly as it bursts through the delicate shell of the multiverse and snaps into real space above the blue and yellow marble of the planet Opia. Somewhere, thousands of miles below in the city of Concordia, your brood is waiting for you.

     IN CONCORDIA
IN CONCORDIA, as dark falls, Nirad announces he’s going to fetch Carata and the new hosts from their landing. Anyone’s welcome to accompany him on the hour long drive to the stealth transport’s landing zone. The rented bus - manned by that same (now very stoic) android - takes everyone to the outskirts of the industrial block. They arrive at a different parking garage just as the stealth transport drops out of the sky, shivering into sight as it touches down. The hosts on the ship step down and then the stealth transport lifts back off the rooftop and wrinkles out of sight. It’s unclear how many more time they’ll be able to get away with this.

Get your meet and greets in and stretch your legs; you have a few minutes before everyone piles into the van and takes the long drive back to the Bearings Apartment block where the hosts have rented out the entirely of Level 13. New hosts will find there are rooms there that as of yet unclaimed, and they’re free to begin making this their home in whatever ways they please. Get familiar with your new comrades, explore the city, or maybe just take a well deserved breather. Officially speaking, nothing much happens until--

     EARLY ON DAY 27

A NEW WINDOW POPS UP IN YOUR EXTRANET PANEL...

((OOC Notes: This is the hatch log for all new and recently returning hosts; any threads on the Station should be closed to newly awakened hosts or Station-based NPCs; a top level for Cathaway and Prince will be going live shortly. Any threads on Concordia can be open to both new and old hosts! For anything happening beyond these calendar dates, feel free to create your own logs and posts.

If you have questions about the mission specifically, direct them to the most recent calendar post HERE. You can find a more detailed overview of the hatching process HERE; you might also want to take a glance at the MISSION CONCORDIA BRIEFING. For all other questions, please hit up either the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages.))

NAVIGATION • SETTING • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

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[Shiro might be trying to find refuge in the corner of the transport, but space means very little in the wake the newfound mental connection of broodmates, as deep and unsettling as it may be. Bruce is trying to stay focused, to quiet his mind and the thoughts and sensation that threaten to penetrate his concentration at all sides. His success so far has been mediocre at best, and when Shiro moves to clear his head of trepidation, Bruce feels nothing but. As if what he is pushing away is rolling across to him, like waves on a shoreline, faces and experiences he doesn't recognize.

It's the last thing he needs; and though it's difficult to rebuke a man who is clearly trying his best to keep his mind under control, Bruce has to say something. Shiro will probably feel a flare of the presence of Bruce (if he hasn't been already) when the man speaks up. He's trying to radiate focus and control, though the foundations are shakier than usual.]

What's the only way?

[Conversation, maybe, might take his mind off of what plagues him.]

[It shouldn't -- but the presence almost makes him twitch. It's like they installed a new sense when he wasn't looking. And that, beyond even the press of bodies and thoughts is too uncomfortably familiar to accept just yet.]

[He is so tired of waking up different and not knowing why.]

[Maybe some of that bleeds over without him meaning to, before he tries turning his thoughts away from it. To focusing on what does make sense right now. The people back home who are depending on him to do this. Whatever the cost. The people he's responsible for keeping safe. The -- ]

[Someone is talking. Actually speaking aloud to him, and his attention snaps back up.]

This. Whatever this is. [With a slightly sheepish grimace.] Just trying to keep focused.

[Bruce feels the man's discomfort, unable to completely pry himself away from the link they now share. He sets his jaw, stubbornly reminding himself that those are not his emotions, but finding it increasingly difficult to tell them apart from one another.

"Trying to keep focused". Bruce holds his tongue, refraining from remarking that Shiro's focus wasn't as razor-sharp as he might have wanted it to be, having his thoughts and emotions spill over to him. It would be hypocritical to criticize, especially when he had no advice to give someone who struggled with the same problem as him.

And so instead of remarking on his focus, on his thoughts or state of mind, Bruce simply says:]

Focus is going to be harder to come by from now on out. The voices are distracting to everyone so far; I wouldn't feel bad for losing concentration in the first few days.

[And if what he's been told is true, this is especially true between those of the same brood.]

[He's normally much, much better at hiding the way his expression falls. "Focus" is already harder some days than others. Add this onto it... There's irritation coming from somewhere and he can only assume it's the other man speaking to him. But what is he supposed to do?]

[He drops his face into the palm of one hand, rubbing at his forehead.]

And letting everyone into my head in the process, right?

[No one deserves that. Literally no one. Except maybe the people who'd messed it up so badly in the first place. After a moment, he blows out a breath.]

I'm sorry.

[For intruding or being too loud or -- ] How are you holding up?

[Bruce won't argue the point that having others in his mind is nothing short of frustrating, even disorienting depending upon its degree. However, he finds himself in a bind, a status of begrudging acceptance in lieu of not seeing a feasible solution just yet. He'll try to keep up the mental barriers, but at the moment it seems like he'll just have to quietly deal with the stray thoughts and feelings for now.

Not that that's particularly reassuring for anyone to hear. But he isn't looking to give empty reassurances. He never was the type.]

Don't apologize. ["It's not exactly your fault" hangs in the air, implied. Bruce presses his lips together in a frown at the question, however.]

I'm still trying to process everything that's happened. It's hard to reconcile the fact that home isn't an option right now.

[As in, returning home. That's the cruelest epiphany of all, isn't it?]

["... home isn't an option right now".]

[He wants to laugh. Not out of amusement, but because... wow. How familiar is that? Home stopped being an option the day the Galra ship blotted out the stars. And it takes everything in him not to think too hard about that. Mostly because of how similar this feels.]

[Only, you know, without the prison, or gladiatorial combat.]

[Something about that 'not exactly your fault' feels more than just implied. It's good enough. It's true -- even if it's hard not to fumble around with it.]

... Not as hard as it'd be if you asked me a year ago.

[Being disconnected from Gotham is like cutting off a limb for Bruce; this would be clear to any broodmate who bothered to explore further. Here, he finds himself without purpose, unwilling to integrate himself into the hivemind without at least entertaining the idea that someday, somehow, he might find his way back home again. He's skeptical of all he's been told, and forever uncertain of the fact that there appears to be little choice but to play the game for now.]

And what happened a year ago?

[He can sense something from this man -- that space wasn't a new frontier for him, that the vast swath of stars was a familiar sight. He wonders if "a year ago" had anything to do with that.]

[I don't know.]

[The easiest answer. And the one that runs screaming to the forefront of his mind without checking in with the rest of him. He does remember, a little, now, but a lot of it he... doesn't even know if he should remember. And maybe that's why the words leap up in defense before anything else.]

[Aloud, he just says, his voice very flat, like he's reciting from a paper.]

Mission went wrong. We were... taken captive, and things just went downhill from then on.

[He looks up from where he's sitting, then, something a little apologetic in the sudden lines around his face.]

Then it gets hazy and complicated. [He pauses, like there's something here he should know, but it's out of reach.] It's different for you, huh?

[The I don't know is resounding, and impossible to ignore. Bruce considers it for a moment; it says more about Shiro than the verbal recitation he follows up with, though the latter is informative in its own way.

Bruce won't push further, not now. Soon, they'll have other matters to attend to, and it'll do no one any good to drudge up pasts from corners of the mind rather not spoken about.

His own, however, he can speak of a bit more freely -- though there is a barrier there, guarding the more personal details that he's not willing to let go, just yet. Though how much he can keep away from a broodmate is questionable. Untested.]

It was. A year ago, I was home; I had clear purposes, strict goals for myself. [It's one way of putting it, at least.] And in one day, everything that I've worked for is gone. Simple as that.

[He frowns.] But I'm not quite ready to accept that as the only answer.

[Some of the gratitude at the lack of pressure is probably shared. If only because he doesn't know how not to, at this point. If he even can keep things away from others in -- whatever collective it is they're calling themselves.]

[Pretty hard to wrap his head around it, even after hearing the explanation.]

[Fortunately, Bruce speaking is a nice thing to focus on. Something other than what's going through his own head. He can't help but feel a little envious. Of having that much control over your life a year ago. But it fades, as quickly as it comes.]

... it's never easy, having things pulled out from under you like that, is it?

[He doubts what happened to him is anything like what this guy's gone through. But that hardly matters. He's just trying to offer... he doesn't really know. Some common point.]

Hopefully it's not the only answer. For everyone.

[Bruce looks at Shiro, the corners of his mouth tugging downwards into a frown. He pauses, wondering if he should share what he knows at this exact moment in time -- it wouldn't exactly help the issue of morale, of coming to terms with what's happened.

But the doubt is pushed away as soon as it arrives. What was the point in holding back information, when it concerned all of them?]

If what I've been told is correct, they would like for us to believe that it is the only answer. The possibility of returning home is... "unlikely". But unlikely isn't the same as impossible.

[That was another issue altogether, though.]

As long as something is "unlikely", it can happen.

[He's seen it happen often enough. Like someone magically resurrecting an entire planet. Or giant space lions turning into a more giant robot.]

[... Part of him is fairly sure escaping Galra prison is also something most people would consider impossible, or extremely unlikely. But those thoughts are quick to be shoved away.]

Nothing wrong with holding out hope.

[And both of those sentiments is something Bruce can agree on, in spades.]

Exactly. I just hope everyone here isn't already too jaded -- or lost in each other's minds -- to remember that.

[But maybe this is a man who won't forget it. He certainly hopes not. Though Bruce prefers working alone, he has a feeling that might not be at all possible, now -- likeminded individuals might have to be a commodity he should keep an eye out for.]

That's the part that worries me. The last part.

[Because well. If everyone is too busy being in each others' heads, that doesn't bode well for him. And whatever it is he can't remember.]

[Unless... it's a blank for them, too. But since when was he ever that lucky?]

I hate saying it, but we'll probably just have to wait and see.

That or make a point of reminding the others.

[He's not the type to shy away from that. But it's something to consider after they settled in. They've yet to even land.]

What's your name? [He could search for it mentally, but he prefers the traditional way of introductions right now; that, and it would be useful to catch the name of a fellow broodmate.]

We'll see how well that goes, I guess.

[You know. Whether or not he'll be listened to. By relative strangers.]

[He blinks, and sheepishly holds up his human hand -- it's easier that way. Less offensive, he figures.]

Shiro. You?

[Honestly, it's difficult to tell if Bruce would have been fazed either way. Though the gesture is noted, if not appreciated.]

Bruce. [An incline of the head as a greeting of sorts.] And you're right. We'll see how it goes.

[He has a feeling that it won't be as easy as he'd like.]

((ooc; Would you mind terribly if I added you on plurk?))

[He keeps a hand extended for a beat or two longer, because it seems like the polite thing to do. But when it's clear it won't be taken, he curls it back, and pushes his fingers through his hair.]

[Wellp. That went well.]

Hopefully, better than worse.

[That feeling is mutual. Even without the mental linkage.]

((ooc: go for it!))

[Sorry Shiro, he's more Batman than Bruce Wayne at the moment. He might be more inclined to shake your hand when there's less tension and trepidation in the air.

(Maybe.)]

((ooc; alrighty! if you get a request from aurajen, that's me!))

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[hatch log] pull plug, enter multiverse

25; transport

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