station72 | [hatch log] pull plug, enter multiverse

Entry tags:

[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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[That, at least, causes him to lift a brow. A beat, and then he moves to take a seat on the opposite end of the room, but not far enough to discourage conversation. (Congrats, you made him inclined to sit.)

He could allow himself a tired sigh, but he makes a point of avoiding it, at least in company.]

And are explosions a common theme here?

[ (ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED.)

Sam stretches out and puts his feet on the coffee table, because what is propriety when you're fifteen years old. ]

There was one right around the time I got here.

[ That wasn't really the immediate one, when it comes to things that have made him sick of explosions, but stuff at home is complicated and this is the other one that's probably relevant. ]

I think they said like fifty androids got wiped, but nobody's been talking about that one nearly as much.

[ There's a twinge of bitterness there. Of course it's obvious why it didn't trigger as much outrage - because nobody really thinks of the androids as people. Nobody's got a reason to care about that, right? ]

[The news report continues to drone on in the background, but Bruce listens intently to what Sam has to say for now.

His creases his brow slightly. The politics regarding synthetic life vs. biological life was something steeped in debate, even back on Earth, where the vast majority of such technologies were fledging at best. The fact that the Nest was playing such a prominent role in this planet's development -- even if it was reactionary, in response to the Enemy itself -- was not something he was sure he should feel completely comfortable about.

Not that it made a particular difference either way. He would do what was required of him, for now (unless a better solution presented itself, in which home was a viable option); not to mention that didn't exactly excuse the bombings in the first place.]

That isn't surprising, given the circumstances on the planet. When the root of the issue is a question of sentience and individuality, those that are afraid of change are going to make a point to not care about synthetic lives lost.

It's ironic; Concordia is immeasurably far from Earth, but there are so many parallels between the two.

[ It is uncomfortable, in Sam's opinion. Not that he hasn't done his share of meddling in the affairs of other systems and the galaxy at large, but it's not the same thing. The Nova Corps were known and accepted as protectors of the peace, before they were wiped out. Getting involved was expected, appreciated (by the good people he was helping, anyway, and who cares what the nasty ones think).

This, though...all secret, all under the radar. It doesn't feel like fulfilling a duty, it feels like interfering.

But as Sam Anders already pointed out to him, they're interfering just by being there at all. Trying to tread lightly isn't going to somehow make that better. ]

It's stupid. You don't have to be born the normal way to feel things. Or be your own person.

[ One clone of his father had decided he liked Earth, liked Sam, enough to throw his orders out the window and give his life trying to fix things instead of ruining them. And the second one had not only stuck to his mission, he'd taken a sadistic joy in doing so.

If clones can diverge that much, Sam doesn't see much point in pretending that they're anything less than people. ]

[Bruce doesn't respond at first, leaning an elbow into the armrest of where he's seated, lips pressed into a subtle frown. He looks over at the young man, certainly not in disagreement.]

You're right. But that's a conclusion that these people should arrive at themselves. Not with the help of outside forces. [Meaning the Enemy, meaning them as well. And though they both shared this same line of thinking, Bruce doesn't dwell on the topic. There's nothing to be done about it, other than let it be another point of skepticism directed at the whole ordeal. (And he certainly has plenty of those.)

So instead, a different question. Though likely just as relevant.]

So what's your story?

[If he's to be so closely connected to the Nest and the members in its web, he might as well begin to know who all he's dealing with. ~~(It's not like he's going to start keeping personal files on all of you, no.)~~]

My story?

[ That's...direct, to a degree that nobody's really been with him yet. He hasn't gotten many questions about what he came from before the Nest, and when he has it's usually been to clarify something he's already alluded to. And while he hasn't exactly adhered to the secret identity thing here (because what's the point, when everyone's in your head anyway), Sam knows his story sounds...kind of ridiculous, when you lay it all out at once.

(Though to be fair, the fact that they're here ought to sound pretty ridiculous too, and that's clearly not stopping them.) ]

Uh. I'm from Arizona, and I fight off alien invasions when I'm not getting suspended, trying not to fail my classes, or babysitting my little sister.

[ ...okay, he figured glossing over the really crazy stuff, like the part where the aliens enslaved his dad as a gladiator and then made a bunch of clones of him, but putting it in that few words...doesn't actually sound that much better, does it? ]

[Bruce is nothing but direct... at least, when he chooses to be. For now, he sees little harm in asking. While a large part of him finds it reasonable to want to know about his fellow hosts, he would be lying if he said he wasn't even slightly curious.

And I don't know, Sam, some of that stuff is crazy. Mostly the whole fighting off alien invasions thing; aren't you a little young to be saving the world?

Then again, nothing should surprise Bruce at this point. And he's not sure which of those things he should honestly ask about first.]

I think the problem is that fighting off alien invasions doesn't lend well to any of those things. [Superheroing takes a toll on one's social life; he would know.] You're just a kid. How did you end up trying to stave off alien forces?

[As for why there are alien forces in the first place -- well, the default answer as of late has simply been: multiverses.]

[ The kid stuff gets old, even if he knows it's inevitable. (Oh, didn't know they were reforming the Young Avengers, yeah, he's sure never heard that one before, hilarious.) There's always someone around ready to make a thing out of it, even if it's not like it's that uncommon, where he's from.

Which doesn't mean that's the case everywhere. Sigh. ]

It was my dad's gig first. But he's -

[ He's not actually sure how he wants to finish that sentence. Gone. Missing. Probably still rotting in some Chitauri prison cell or something, but not on Chitauri Prime apparently... ]

- I don't know. But someone had to do it.

[The hitch in Sam's sentence is enough to spark something in Bruce, something that makes him empathize with that unfinished word, whatever it may be. Gone rings loudly in his head, though whether it's Sam projecting or Bruce's own experiences filling in the blanks is difficult to discern.]

That someone being you? [-comes the less-than-mannerly question in return, though Bruce doesn't ask it merely for the sake of being rude. A part of him wonders if Sam knows what he's getting into, or what he's already gotten into -- failing classes and getting suspended, apparently, were just some of the sacrifices mentioned.] It sounds like a lot to give up; most people would let someone else clean up the mess around them.

[Most people. But as Sam said, someone has to do it, don't they?

He's merely curious as to his response. He certainly has his own opinion on the matter, and despite his questioning, it's undoubtedly of the same persuasion.]

If I can do something about it, and I don't, then that's just...I don't know.

[ He's pretty sure that as much as getting punched by the Hulk hurt, it would've hurt in a completely different, and much worse, way if he'd let his hometown get leveled and his family get killed. ]

I don't want to do that.

...That's a good answer. [His tone makes it difficult to twist it into a complete compliment, but at least it's vaguely reminiscent to one.] Feeling helpless isn't exactly the best alternative, anyway.

[But if you think Bruce is going to offer a bit about himself in return, you'd be sorely mistaken. Though his walls may still be up, at least it seems like he understands, maybe even possibly relates. Good luck getting him to tell you that for no reason, however.]

[ It feels like about as close as he's going to get to approval from this guy. Not that getting that is exactly on the priority list to begin with. ]

There's still plenty that I can't do crap about. Don't need to add "letting the Chitauri hurl asteroids the size of the Empire State Building at us" to the list.

[ It's a shame he can't find some way to turn that into house payments for his mother, but you know. At least she's alive to not be able to make them. ]

[Bruce can puzzle out that the "Chitauri" are apparently the aforementioned alien invaders, though it still leaves a lot to the imagination. Mostly, how Sam can manage to do so -- and in a way he can only assume is successful, by the way the teen is speaking.]

And how exactly do you manage that? [Stopping aliens from hurling asteroids, he means. Or just, really, fighting in general. No offense, Sam.] I don't know a lot of teens that are physically able to fend off something as intimidating as an alien invasion.

[ He looks a little irked by that - it's not as bad as it could be, since it's delivered as more of a general statement than a you, specifically, but it's still annoying because...it's totally true. For someone who gets the shit kicked out of him at school as frequently as Sam does, questioning his ability to fight off space armadas is completely legit and he knows it.

And that sucks, ugh. ]

Blowing stuff up, mostly. I dragged Warbringer through a star once.

[ ...okay, maybe he should back up a little, because that probably raises more questions than if he just said he punched things. ]

There's this...energy source? Field? Thing? Called the Nova Force. The Xandarians figured out how to use it and...okay, I don't really know much about the history because, you know, the rest of the Nova Corps is too dead to give me Nova Force 101, but it's where our power comes from.

[While Bruce would prefer a more... detailed explanation of what Sam calls the Nova force other than an "energy source field thing", the "blowing stuff up" portion of his explanation was enough to give him a fair idea. It gives him a very strong impression of this young man utilizing a blow-things-up-ask-questions-later mentality, which is so. very. reckless.

While the mention of the Nova Corps is filed in his head to ask about later, he decides to stay on the subject at hand. He finds it more pressing at the moment.

He doesn't even bother hiding his look of disapproval this time.]

And what if you didn't have this power to rely on? Would you just blow things up and hope for the best?

[ He's not squirming, really.

Okay, maybe a little. Mentally. Technically, it's already happened before. He's made it out okay, thanks to unorthodox tactics - ]

...I hit Titus in the face with my skateboard once.

[ And that had actually worked - to give him a chance to get his helmet back and get his powers back. But even as he remembers that fight, flashes of quite a few others come to mind, too. All those times at school, where it wasn't a matter of just needing to throw enough of a curveball to get back in gear, but where using that kind of force was out of the question.

And those...well. He usually got at least one good hit in, but mostly, he got the crap kicked out of him. He wasn't big enough to win on power, he wasn't experienced enough to win on skill. All he really had going for him in the schoolyard was sheer tenacity, the stubborn refusal to give up until he either couldn't get up or (more frequently, thankfully) someone broke things up. ]

[He doesn't know who this Titus is, but again, hitting someone in the face with a skateboard is not exactly a tactic Bruce would ever suggest employing.

And again, he's getting the impression that Sam thrives on a strange mixture of impulsiveness and recklessness. There was nothing wrong with improvising, of course, but everything in moderation.

Can you hear the judgment in his tone?]

Did anyone actually train you to fight properly, before you took up your responsibilities?

[He's so sure that the answer is a resounding 'no' that he immediately follows up his question with a statement. An offer. This Nest that they're all a part of -- how are they supposed to defeat an enemy if they can't even fight properly?]

I can teach you the basics, if you want. [Yeah this guy in a fancy business suit will teach you, Sam. He's serious enough sounding that it's hard to mistake it as a jest, though.]

All the "training" I got was Rocket shooting at me for a few hours and telling me not to die.

[ Although that at least seemed to help somewhat, because he sure didn't get shot when he took on babby's first space armada.

The offer does get a double-take from him. Because...yeah, Bruce looks like some kind of corporate suit whose idea of a pitched battle is people raising their voices in the boardroom. Does he really know this stuff?

On the other hand, he doesn't feel like he's lying, and Sam's gotten preternaturally good at sniffing that out lately.

And hey, the dude is built like a brick shithouse. ]

You serious about that?

[Bruce is starting to believe that whatever universe Sam comes from really needs to redefine their perception of the word "training".

There is definitely no levity in his voice as he returns with:] Don't I look serious? Given our situation, the fact that we may find ourselves in the middle of a confrontation someday is a real possibility. And I'm not sure I feel comfortable with you going into a fight, just hoping that your opponent knows less about fighting than you do.

...you look like you don't even know how to pull someone's leg, yeah.

[ There's definitely some kind of secret society of adults who don't know the meaning of "fun and funny" here, he's pretty sure. ]

[He doesn't seem to be particularly bothered by the criticism concerning his... lack of humor. This is serious business, anyway.]

So is that a yes or no?

[ Everything's serious business with those types... ]

Yeah. Sure.

It's a yes, I mean.

[Well, at least he looks satisfied with that answer.]

Good.

[And he moves to stand, as if that's that. When he pulls himself up to his full height, he leaves Sam with a few more things before he turns to leave.]

I probably won't be a very lenient instructor, so as long as you're okay with that, then just let me know whenever you're ready to start.

[ God, he's gonna get neck strain looking up at this guy, isn't he. ]

Like I said: last "instructor" just opened fire and told me to step it up. I think I can deal with you.

[Probably. Sam, you're so small.]

We'll see. Like I said, let me know.

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[hatch log] pull plug, enter multiverse

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