[hatch log] +1, +2, +3, ...+4?

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: The Station + Concordia
WHEN: DAY :35 - :36
SUMMARY: Another hatch occurs on the Station; new hosts arrive on Concordia and make their way to Bearings - along with a special guest.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary.

YOU WAKE UP and you will never be the person you were a moment ago. --No. Not a moment. It's been a while, hasn't it? Something feels different. You know intuitively that you've been unconscious for more than just a blink of the eye.

Which might explain how you ended up here: lying in a small faintly hexagonal chamber, a gentle white light emanating from the surrounding walls. It might also explain why any injuries you might have experienced immediately before your escape are also well on their way to being healed. There's something strangely peaceful about waking up here and that feeling persists as you find the tube running from the base of your neck to the compartment's rear wall. But when you disconnect the tube-- Things get loud. A wave of emotion fills the void. Fear, uncertainty, relief, a sense of purpose or loneliness or anxiety; maybe some of these emotions are yours, but they can't all be. After the initial sensory overload, the mental buzz elongates: stretches out into a murmur like the sound of a party behind a closed door.

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. Drop down the ladder to the floor of the Nesting Deck and you’ll find you’re not alone - and that those sounds in your head are louder. Other people’s thoughts swim up: some of them might seem clear, but most of them are a jumbled mess. Every single person here feels like someone you should be familiar with, someone you somehow know. They might look like strangers, but there's something about them that's absolutely vital on a cellular level.

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 your brood members, 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 plans are being put into motion. Stealth missions are being plotted, espionage-laden ploys are being quietly organized, and somewhere Sam Alexander is probably puking into a bucket. If you aren't following someone suspicious - well, maybe you should be? It definitely seems to be in vogue.

But it can't all be derring-do and covert operations; early on Day 35, Carata disappears. Nirad says she's gone to the Station. "I don't know how many more times we'll be able to do this. Someone's going to notice the ship and start asking questions." And maybe some of those questions might lead someone their way. After all, they haven't exactly been keeping a low profile have they?

     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, the rest of your brood is waiting for you.

     IN CONCORDIA
AS NIGHT FALLS IN CONCORDIA, the transport drops into atmosphere and lands in an gutted strip of an industrial waste facility. Once everyone's disembarked, the transport lifts off of its own volition and winks out of sight as its stealth routines come back online. A few minutes later, a transport van arrives being driven by a stoic android. Carata and the other new hosts pile in. It's a long drive to the Bearings Apartment Block, but it feels undeniably like home when they finally reach the Level 13 living space. New hosts are invited to make themselves comfortable. There are as of yet unclaimed rooms, each of which features a customizable digital display wall (pick your color or wallpaper!); there's a fully stocked kitchen (if someone took time to do the grocery shopping) and a great view overlooking Beta Block from the common room. Get familiar with the other hosts, take a well deserved nap or--

     JUST KIDDING.
In the excitement of new hosts arriving, it might be easy to miss it when the powerlift drops back to the lobby a few hours after the arrival of the new hosts. But it's impossible to overlook the android that arrives on Level 13 when it returns. It's stripped down to its most basic parts: a metallic skeleton with a featureless face plate and bright blue ocular inputs, sparks flashing through its internal synthetic viscera like firing synapses.

It looks like a nightmare.

Its jaw unhinges: "I'm looking for Sim Anderson," it says and then abruptly powers down.

---

((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. Any threads on Concordia can be open to both new and old hosts!

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 )

Comments

[cur]

[ Remus hears the approach in more ways than one, but he doesn't turn around; his eyes stay on the skyline even after Clint's spoken.

Overwhelming is an understatement. Still, the barrage of voices and knife-sharp senses isn't the problem. It's a problem, certainly, but he's already resigned himself to the fact that he'll simply have to adjust.

The moon is the problem. It's there in his thoughts, a strange fixation, the vague image of a clear white circle against black. And it doesn't waver, even after he draws a bit more focus to the here and now and offers a polite smile. ]

More than a little, surely. [ He nods towards the window — or, more accurately, the city lights beyond it. ] I was in the Scottish Highlands before this.

[cognitived]

[ Well, he's more pragmatic about this than some are, at the very least. Clint can appreciate that. the more level headed people here the better. Even if that's only at the surface. Worry slips beneath his skin, the gleam of the moon burned behind his eyelids. Strange, but not the most unusual. Something to set aside for later.

Remus offers a slip of a smile, a nod, and Clint's gaze flickers over the city before them. Beautiful, in it's own way. But not so different from New York, really. ]

Ah. [ Clint huffs with laughter, scrubbing one hand at the nape of his neck. ] Yeah, that'd do it. They pull us from everywhere, it seems.

[cur]

And anytime. [ That's a novelty. Not because it's impossible; more because of the scope of it, and he sounds vaguely impressed. A beat, then he offers: ]

Nineteen ninety-four. [ The disparities aren't so much puzzles to be solved as curiosities, and in his case another excuse for culture shock. He doesn't dwell on it, offering a hand in greeting just after. ]

Remus Lupin. I've just arrived with two others— [ And the thought of his brood mates is unintentionally direct, a flicker of Kate and Peter and that strange, foreign familiarity. ] As you're well aware, I imagine. It's difficult to tell what's worth sharing and what's already been shared.

[cognitived]

[ Yeah, that one isn't as much of a surprise for Clint. Not when Steve's here pre-serum. But it had been, at first, and the breadth of timelines of the people here can be staggering. Still, Clint shifts when prompted, shaking Remus' hand easily. ]

Clint Barton, Twenty sixteen. [ He responds in turn, an easygoing sort of effervescence spilling from the thread of his mind. For a newbie, Remus is remarkably held together. It probably helps that Clint isn't his broodmate. ] Hard to miss new arrivals, yeah. But it doesn't hurt to get impressions from others.

[ Spoken like a true spysassin. ]

[cur]

[ Remus isn't a complete stranger to war, so the strategy isn't lost on him. Or it wouldn't be, if he had any cause to think it was anything other than friendly curiosity. ]

Of course.

[ He hesitates, just for a second, and when he continues he sounds friendly and quietly amused — it feels a bit different, though. There's a dull spike of fear beneath the question, muted and shut up quickly more out of habit than an awareness of the connection. ]

What's your first impression, then?

[ The link between all of them is an unknown. Remus doesn't have a feel for what others may or may not be able to get at, which is more concerning than any tangible slip he's encountered thus far. ]

[cognitived]

[ Clint doesn't really....miss that, though it's subtle, a nearly inscrutable murmur beneath Remus' shields. Curious and curiouser. ]

Long or short answer? [ He shrugs one shoulder, wry. But ok, you asked for it: ] Peter Parker. Young, worried, using humor to cope. From New York, don't know where specifically. Kate Bishop. Older than Peter, but probably not by much. Probably came from money, she's brash, cocky, and has a temper. But she's got the skill to back it up. Also known as 'Hawkeye'.

[ A pause. ] Remus Lupin. Disciplined, intelligent, worn. Out of time, but dealing remarkably well. Outwardly at least.

[cur]

[ Well, he isn't wrong. Remus hadn't gotten much the same impressions of the others, though being in the same brood probably made his intuition a little like cheating. As for the description of him, it's straightforward and accurate. For the most part.

It's only the last sentence that feels sharp. It makes him wonder if his self-control isn't quite what he'd hoped, though it's just as possible that it's a very good assumption. Safe to assume the newcomers are rattled, surely. But his smile doesn't waver, and he only looks more amused by the time Clint's done, eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity. ]

Clint Barton. Very observant. [ Which sounds like three parts compliment, one part dubious. ] I'd say that's a very apt description of most professors I've met — worn and good in a crisis. What is it you do, Mr. Barton?

[ It's not prying if you share yours first ok. ]

[cognitived]

[ Give him a week, Clint will probably know far more if he really tried. Kate's already easing under his skin, for better or worse, and Clint liked that Peter kid. Hell, he kind of likes Remus too, in a idle sort of way. Especially with the way Remus looks more amused at the end than at the beginning.

It is, and it isn't. Remus' control is far better than most newbies can ever hope for, but he slips, little wisps of thoughts, little changes in the lines of his face. Most might miss it -- most don't have vision like Clint does, and extensive training in reading people.

Still, he huffs a laugh, amused. Three parts compliment is better than most of what he usually gets t b h. ]

I worked for a group specializing in immediate response to high-risk scenarios. [ He's being a little shit, sorry Remus. ] Short answer? I was a superhero.

[ One day, Clint won't casually drop that on people. That day is not today. ]

[cur]

[ It's easy to see exactly where he loses Remus. There's a strong current of curiosity at high-risk, then an abrupt halt to any real thought at all when he hits superhero.

Not that it's a foreign concept. Superheroes exist in fiction, Muggle and otherwise, though the definitions are skewed by culture. It occurs to him that it's possibly hypocritical for a wizard to be skeptical of anything, which gets his thoughts turning again. The curiosity comes back with a vengeance, too, even if it is a little dubious. ]

I assume capes went out of fashion at about the same time as wizard's hats, then.

[ Which is sort of preempting the magic discussion, but who knows. Maybe Clint's one of the few here who's familiar with it already — being a superhero surely ups the odds. ]

[cognitived]

[ Clint can't help it -- he snorts, a brief little thing at the stop of Remus' curiosity. He can feel it, vaguely, settled beneath the skin. He doesn't blame the guy, Clint had sort of intentionally done it to see the momentarily flummoxed look on his face. That said, man, superheroes existing is still sometimes weird enough to Clint and he works with the OG Super aka Mr. Steve "Come at me bro" Rogers. Remus' skepticism is pretty much exactly what Clint expected. ]

You try telling Thor that. [ And Vision, but a Norse god does what he wants, ok. There's a brow raise, head cocked. ] Depends on if you still use wands or do weird hand gestures though.

[ A flicker, unintentionally -- Wanda's hands, red energy gleaming as her fingers move. Not exactly a wizard, but the Scarlet Witch counts, yeah? ]

[cur]

[ His mind lingers on the image of the red magic, and it sparks both curiosity and familiarity. Wandless magic exists, of course, even if it never quite looks like that — flames, maybe. That would be close.

He pulls himself away from the thought at the mention of wands, and there's a brief pause before he draws exactly that out of the pocket of his coat. ]

The former. I'm afraid the latter wouldn't accomplish much, though a skilled wizard can do wandless magic — within reason.

[ Less power, less focus. Good enough for most spells, though. And, hedging on the basis of that brief, accidental memory: ]

You're familiar with magic?

[cognitived]

[ Flames is probably far too accurate, when it comes to Wanda's magic. Just as destructive as it is helpful, protective.

Still, Clint isn't entirely expecting Remus to produce a wand, and his brows raise momentarily. Curious and curiouser. This place just keeps bringing more and more interesting people here every time. ]

I knew a couple, back home. [ Wanda, Loki. Still--] Though, one was an alien playing god and the other the product of an experiment.

[ a m-m-mut-miracle, thanks copyright. ]

[cur]

[ They're even for surprises, then. Remus certainly wasn't expecting him to counter with aliens and experiments. ]

An alien like the ones who've taken us?

[ Though truth be told, he's not completely sure alien is the right word. Most of the minds here have been familiar enough, in the sense that they feel human.

But still, space. Seems as applicable a term as any. ]

[cognitived]

[ Remus doesn't know how right he is, technically. ]

His name was Loki, from Asgard.

[ It might be easy to dismiss this as Clint poking fun, stealing from myth. But there's a flash, a tall, thin man, eyes gleaming with madness, smile sharp as glass. The scepter in his hand glows a cold blue, light reflecting sickly off the gold of his helm and armor. ]

He came through a portal a few years back, decided Earth was a grand place for a kingdom.

[ There's a shrug, scrubbing fingers through short shorn hair. ] So, uh, sort of?

[cur]

[ The skepticism's there, an impulsive flicker; but it's quickly put out by the memory that follows the name. There's nothing quite so reassuring as reality, even if it's seen through someone else's eyes. Clint certainly believes in it, at least, and surely a wizard is the last person to be throwing stones.

Remus is distracted enough by the memory that he takes a moment to respond, thoughts lingering on the cold blue light. It's met by an idle memory, similar and different, a searing green light in the distinct image of a skull. ]

I'm not an alien or an experiment, if it's any consolation. [ Not that Clint seems all that bothered about either implication. The calm's appreciated, if slightly eerie. ] I teach at a school for magic. It's very common in my world, though its existence isn't known to everyone.