[MISSION LOG] BRAVE NEW WORLD

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: The Station + Concordia
WHEN: Day :000 - ???
SUMMARY: Leaving the Station; the arrival and first days on Concordia. Concordia pt.1.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary.

IT'S EARLY IN THE DAY and something feels strange. It’s not unlike when a new Host - not one of your brood, but close enough to feel the tug - comes awake on the Nesting Deck. But it’s just the initial tug. There’s no noise, no hum of confusion or volume. Today, it’s just there: a sensation of presence that a moment ago wasn’t. Soon after follows a prickling awareness of urgency. A small electric bolt through the mind. Cathaway doesn’t use words in the mind, but her meaning is nonetheless easily understood: come to her on the hangar; your presence is required.

On the hangar there is a sleek, low profile transport ship. Before it stand Cathaway and Prince and in their company is a stranger: a short woman with warm skin and dark hair, wearing unfamiliar colorful clothes and a quick, pleasant smile. You’ve never seen her before, but you know she’s a Host.

“This is them?” Her voice is light and sweet. Prince, occupied by a databank, glances up at her then nods once. There’s a tension in his shoulder and through his jaw - a distinct contrast to Cathaway and the stranger who lack both.

“Lovely.” Her tone is breezy and easy, delighted. “Hello, it is so nice to meet you all! My name is Carata. My partner and I have been away on duty for a few months, but it’s become clear that we need backup on our assignment. We are hoping you can help.” Carata motions to the mission equipment in neat kits at her feet. There is one for each young Host.

Prince folds his pad down into its smallest form. His expression is set and serious.

“You will be joining Carata and Nirad on the planet below to assist them with their mission. Your datapbank will provide you with information about the planet and the city where you will be stationed. This mission is covert and the planet itself has no contact with other planetary races, so you will need to do your utmost to blend in.”

Cathaway sharpens slowly beside them: a dull pencil being sharpened to a point as her attention curves back to this place, this instance. She unfolds her hands. “You’ll be provided with an earpiece that should allow you to interface with the local technology and a fake identity for your cover on world. Please mind both carefully and be sure to keep your databanks offline. It would be inconvenient if they were networked while on planet.” From the way she says it, it sounds like ‘inconvenient’ might be an understatement. “This mission shouldn’t be inherently life threatening. Your primary goal is to investigate the anti-android movement. Carata and Nirad will be able to tell you what your databanks do not.”

“You should listen to them,” Prince adds. “Rely on their experience and knowledge to help you succeed in your task. Be mindful, and treat them with the respect they have earned.”

At this Carata laughs. It’s a bright, joyful sound, her hands coming up to clasp in front of her chest, “Please, teacher, you are too serious. I am sure they will do very well. Come along then! Gather your things; we must leave as soon as possible. I do hate to leave Nirad alone for too long.”

Turning her back to the Hosts, Carata takes Cathaway’s hand for a moment Nothing is said, but there’s the distinct impression of something passing between them. They release their grip, then Carata turns to Prince. She places her hands on his shoulders and goes up to her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. He doesn’t return the gesture, but those with sharp eyes will note he does lean down slightly to make her job easier.

Gather your gear, get anything from your rooms you might not want to leave behind. In two hours, everyone attending the mission will be buckled or strapped into the transport as Carata readies the ship for takeoff. She explains, neatly and concisely, what they believe the enemy to be doing in Concordia. Then, with a turning of the deck, the ship is freed from the embrace of Station 72.

It will be a long time before you see this place again.

     I. THE WHEELS ON THE BUS
The flight to Concordia is surprisingly short. By the time Carata's finished her explanation, you've passed into a new universe. It comes with a strange wave of something akin to nausea. Outside the transport's starboard viewports lays Opia in all it's glory: a beautiful blue marble speckled with sixteen landmasses and swathed in thing clouds like spun sugar. From this distance, clusters of light burn from specific points on the continents like a map of grounded constellations. As one of the great megacities of Opia comes curling from around the edge of the planet, the transport ship begins to descend.

Atmospheric entry is smooth. The transport drops at the outskirts of Concordia on what is, hilariously, some kind of large parking garage. It has engaged the most sophisticated of its cloaking technology to do this and Carata urged everyone to disembark quickly so the ship can return to orbiting the planet before it's detected.

"It will be back," she says flippantly. "When we've finished our job."

The ship departs. It's quiet and still for a handful of minutes; Carata seems unconcerned and gives little in the way of direction or instruction. The city flashes around them - bright lights and neon masking the fading of natural light - and nearby, a roadway hums. Eventually the sound of a car pitches louder. A set of headlamps shear from the long line of cars and in moments a long, squarish transport van pulls up and parks at the top of the garage. The side door slides open to admit everyone. In the driver's seat is an android - shining metal and cheerful as it greets every host by name. Beside the android in the van's passenger seat sits a tall, dark skinned man who - much like Carata - is obviously a host.

Welcome to Concordia.

     II. HOME SWEET HOME
It's a long drive into the city. The buildings get taller, the lights get brighter, the streets get busier. There are throngs of people on the street, dogged by endless rows of neon bright advertisements. Traffic is either miserable or flowing depending on the neighborhood and trams run on tracks fifty feet or more above the roadways. Streams of people files from the pavement to the subways, countless numbers of escalators leading down.

When the bus finally stops, it's in front of a building as tall as any others. The signs here mark this section of the city as BETA BLOCK and when you get out and into the building lobby you find that the door opens for you automatically. A chime rings through the interfacing ear piece and when you enter the elevators, the only floor accessible to you is NUMBER EIGHTEEN. When you disembark, a kind voice welcomes you by home in your ear. There are a large number of rooms here in Bearing - stake your claim, everyone! Nirad and Carata already have a couple of rooms in the Southwest corner of the building, but the rest are open. Time to settle in!

     III. FEET ON THE GROUND
You're given the rest of the night to sleep (or...whatever), but by 9AM the next morning everyone is awoken by Carata's voice in their head. She's clearly not shy of using her symbiotic connection.

( Good morning! I know this is quite a lot to get used to. I believe this is your first true assignment? But I have always believed that the best way to learn something new is to jump right in. ) The words are accompanied by the sensation of someone clapping their hands together, a cheerful kind of practicality. ( You’ve been given a credit card. I encourage you to go out today and learn what you can about this place. Talk to people. Listen to the news. Be sure to remember your cover identity, and don’t hesitate to call if you find yourself in trouble. )

There is nothing pressing to the suggestion, just the sensation- light. Airy. Fun. She switches track after a moment, a thoughtful addition: ( There is also a rally in town today. It’s being run by The True Children of Opia, some minor little hate group-- ) She seems to wave off the unsavory aspects as she forges ahead, ( They aren’t affiliated with Humans + Humans 1st, but they do have very similar ideologies and it is quite probable that there is overlap in their membership. If you would rather, it is also quite likely that there will be protestors there as well, both members of Mind Life and those who are adamant about pursuing digital resurrection. Please do be careful, though, sometimes those rallies can be a little... ) An image of an oily substance catching flame, quickly and hotly.

( Whatever you chose, simply do your best to get your bearings. ) She seems to realize the unintended joke there, given the name of their current residence, and a bright happy flash of color accompanies it. What a delightful surprise. ( Prepare yourself for what is to come. Nirad and I will continue our investigation in the meantime. )

---

((OOC Notes: This is the catchall log for the first stages of the Concordia mission. You'll notice there's no set ending date, so use this log however you like - alternatively, feel free to start your own logs in the setting! Don't worry; we'll be keeping a close eye on things, so if something big starts to happen that necessitates a new long, we'll make sure to keep our bases covered and all of y'all updated. Just be aware that dating forward farther than :010 may get a little dicey.

If you have any mission specific questions, direct them to the OOC post here.))

NAVIGATION • SETTING • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

NPC | Nirad (ota + threadjacking etc)

[nirsighted]

I. RIDING IN THE FAST LANE, BUT MY HANDS AREN'T ON THE WHEEL

It's a long drive from the parking garage where the transport van picked up the new arrivals to the bustling interior of Beta Block where the Bearings hotel is. It's inevitable that someone's going to ask questions, isn't it? It doesn't take more than a little chatter to wrangle around the attention of the man in the passenger seat. When he does, the low hum - easily mistaken for the transport's engines - gets slightly louder, gently more apparent. Apparently, the buzzing rotation noise is coming from the man and not the vehicle.

Come to think of it, maybe it's not a noise at all. Maybe it's just the subtle, insistent vibration across the link from his mind to other hosts.

II. GET YOUR BEARINGS

Night doesn't so much fall in Concordia as the neon simply moves to a starring role. The flash of city lights - glittering and vibrant - paint an array of colors through the floor to ceiling windows of level eighteen's common room. Even now, unarguably the middle of the night, the city is alive. It makes the room seem more active than it actually is, Nirad's presence here at this late hour practically normal.

The man is sitting in one of the chairs, long legs tucked up. He's fumbling with some kind of digital handheld device, rotating the hologram in sections. It's some kind of puzzle built on color and number matching. He's working his way through it very quickly, but the floating score registry doesn't seem terribly impressed. Still, the work keeps his hands busy. That's good.

Hummmmmmmm goes the man's brain. Maybe it's enough to keep a few people awake in the middle of the night.

ii

[adamance]

If she weren't intending to speak to these new (to her) Hosts, the steady hum in her mind would have been enough to change her mind. Without the need to be as diplomatic back home, she is able to act a bit more without the thought that she typically carries there. Lexa is not rash, but she doesn't have to move along through her life like she's on a chess board.

(Of course, she doesn't know what chess is, which is a shame.)

She exits her quarters with swift movements, carrying herself to where he sits. Where she had once been imperious, now she looks simply ... confused. The hologram has a lot to do with it. "Do you intend to keep us alert? Is there some purpose to it?" she asks, though when she looks at him, she feels as if she already has her answer.

I. - late flight ok?

[vocalis]

[ Even after such a long sleep Aoba's headaches persist, and he starts to develop one right after his late flight to Concordia. It's gotten worse since arriving planetside, the vehicle's engine humming incessantly in his ears.

Unable to take it, he pulls out the bottle Cathaway supplied him with. The pills rattle lightly, and he opens it so one clear gel tablet rests in his hand. Before he would've swallowed down three or four at once without a second thought. Now he hesitates, straight-faced. ]

Can you stop that?

[ The humming. In the time he spent staring, he's recognized it's real source- the man who met him at the garage. Nirad. Aoba isn't sure what to think of him. So far names are all they've exchanged. If he could just quit that buzzing, maybe Aoba could wait out this headache. Save a pill. Prevent a repeat of the last mission. ]

ii. nirad, the coat full of bees

[exhuxperation]

[ At night, the city illuminates several fractions more. Neon greens, blues, and pinks taking the place of the pale wash of moonlight. Or what would be moonlight, if it weren't drowned out in the pollution of light pouring from nearly every building in some fashion. Hux is grateful they're higher up in this structure; it gives him a better vantage point of the street they're on. Far enough to watch the buzz of inhabitants ebb and flow as the day wore on and switched over.

He's taken mostly to watching from the windows in his room, but has been moving in and out of the common areas to look there as well. The array is hard to pull his eyes from as he tilts his head, watching the steady stream of traffic eighteen floors below them. Arguably, it's a bit late to still be up, but he hasn't felt the need to rest, a sort of nervous energy scratching under his skin. A glance to his left tells him he isn't the only one. The buzzing too, indicative of Nirad's presence.

Well, if he ever wanted to speak to someone unimpeded, here was a chance. Crossing the short distance, he takes a seat across from Nirad, watching the puzzle intently. ]

How does it work?

you ever go to a party and someone's wearing the same thing as you

[narcissithstic]

[Ren's on his way upwards through the Bearings when he hears the near-electric buzz of a mind at work. A focal point he can't ignore, and one familiar only in passing: it draws him away from the stairwell, connection narrowing as he closes the distance.]

Where's your companion?

[Light filters in from outside, a vibrant mix of blue and green that highlights the underside of his jaw beneath the hooded coat Ren keeps drawn up high.]

ii

[frakkincylons]

[ sam's poured through the files they'd been handed for various people within the city of certain important, putting them in stacks together, looking up some of them on the net, reorganizing his stacks and trying to find links - a place to start.

The mission is - allow the people to reach singularity.

that means the corporations are a problem, and the H+H1 people are a problem. But suppressing a group does nothing but lend it strength, and give it purpose. The better option is: change their minds. Definitely the harder option. Maybe the impossible option. But the fact of it is, if artificial life comes into fruition here, and is met with the kind of violent rejection and enslavement the current human population is accepting as the norm, they won't get to a point of true synthesis - the two combining. It'll be the two wiping each other out.

And you really don't know how to feel for another person until you'd seen them, until you've experienced them, until you've been them, maybe. Like Helo and Athena. Gaius and Caprica. This... Sheena person, and 'Pal'. Maybe he can start there. He's still scrolling through the information on his databank as he wanders up to Nirad in the common room, not having raised his head yet. ]

Hey, do we have anything more on this girl Sheena Frey? And the organization, Mind Life? [ finally glancing up, he sees Nirad involved in his game, and gets a bit sheepish. ] Oh, sorry. I'll wait.

Sam Anders | OTA

[frakkincylons]

I. THE WHEELS ON THE BUS

A) START DA BUS;

You know my name. [ The first thing Sam says since landing on the planet, and it's to the android driver of the transport van. Because that's just fucking appropriate. In all honesty, the whole explanation of this planet and the mission itself had been him incredibly ill at ease, and hit a bit too close to home a bit too soon, so he'd been sort of lost in his head. Until a little robotic voice said "Hello, Sam!", and something in the back of his memory perked up. Oh. The grin that pulls at his lips as he takes the seat right behind the AI driver is have incredulity and half just warm glee. ] Hey, Hi! What's your name? I'm Sam-- not that you didn't know that. I should... probably let you drive. Sorry.

[ yeah, Sam, sit your ass down, the robot is busy. He's still a little boggled, so, with some mild muttering to himself about 'good one, Anders, Gods', he's settling back into his seat and pulling on his seat belt. Though, he does cast a look over to the person sitting next to him, pointing at the back of the driver seat with a stage whisper. ]

He knows our names.

II. HOME SWEET HOME

A) GETTING BEARINGS HURRHURRHURR I'M SORRY;

[ Sam sort of wide-eyed and enchanted the whole way into Beta Block, and the entire walk through Bearings until they get to their rented out level, looking more like a set of dorms than an apartment complex. Even Caprica hadn't looked this tech obsessed, nor did the original Earth, from what he can remember of it. Then again, the Thirteenth Tribe had been much more devoted to learning how to live as human than exist in the digital realm only. Sort of hard to find novelty in it when you were born there, he supposes.

Either way, Sam definitely spends a good ten or so minutes just playing with the aesthetic panel on his bedroom's wall, flipping out the decor and lighting and all the funny option there. It's sort of hilarious. And cute. And awesome? Sam doubts he'd ever been so indecisive about decoration that he'd need this many options to flip through at random, but for a hotel, that makes sense. It's clever. But once he's settled on the features he'd like for his room, he'll be heading out to find the others of his brood and where they'd picked their rooms, popping his head in here and there. you may also spot a teeny little robot, about knee-height following along behind him. that is daniel. please be nice to daniel. because daniel doesn't have any programming to stop him from punching you in the shin if you're mean to him. ]

Hey. You good? I was thinking I'd go check out the city soon. Wanna come with?


B) [CLOSED TO ANGEL] TECH NERDING;

[ it goes without saying, the tech here is incredible. despite the fact Sam's people had hit the singularity point twice over, they hadn't really gone this route on their technological advancement. before the bullet he took to the back of his head, Sam hadn't really considered himself much of a tech nerd, but after all his memories from Earth started flooding back, he can't help being a little fond. As is clear by the little Daniel droid he'd brought down to Concordia with him, thankfully compact enough to make him easily transportable and easy to hide. He fits rather nicely in a backpack.

Currently, Daniel's waddling along behind Sam as he moves from one piece of tech to the next in the shared apartment level, until he nears Angel at another one of the wall panels. Squinting at it, he lifts a hand, tapping at a few of the buttons and scrolling through some menu options. ]

Huh. [ cool. freaking cool, dude. ] You try hooking up to any of this stuff yet? Or looking into their net?

III. FEET ON THE GROUND

A) MONEY SPENDING, CITY EXPLORING;

Goooods, I've never been so grateful for normal pants.

[ congratulations, Sam has dragged you out into the city, firstly, for clothes shopping. Because screw those Station space pajamas, he is not wearing those anymore. Or the speedos for the pool. He's bought himself a sports bag, and as you guys go around from store to store, he's probably busting his budget something serious these first few days in collecting amenities he knows he won't have when he gets back to the station.

once he's made a purchase for some normal cargo pants and a jacket in one of the clothing stores he stops in (though they look a little too cyber punk for him, they're still better than what they'd had), he'll be turning to his shopping partner and digging in a coat pocket for his new back of cigarette like substances. ]

You good? Next stop?

B) RALLY;

[ the rally is... well, it's something.

As Sam had been wandering the city, he'd been sort of in awe of it all. This was civilization just before it came together. He'd wondered if Kobol had looked like this, before the Cylon reached their own singularity point. Or whatever was before Kobol. How many times had the cycle been repeated before them, before Kobol and Earth and the Colonies? It'd been going for a long time, he knows that, but how long ago did they really reach it? How many times did they reach it? How many points in the calendar of the universe did technology become life all on it's own?

And yet, at the same time, there's a certain sorrow, as he stands just within the edges of the rally, listening to the shouting and protesting and seething. Because this place, with the attitudes and philosophies he's hearing shouted from the H+H1 supporters, and with how android life is treated here, it's heading exactly the same direction. How many more iterations of the same thing will it take this universe to break the cycle? And how many lives will suffer for it, human and synthetic both. ]

( Is anyone else feeling personally offended by this planet? Just me? )

C) POST-RALLY, BACK AT BEARINGS;

It's sad, you know? [ Sam starts, sitting on some kind of balcony or roof top, casually puffing away at something vaguely cigarette-like, as he muses to whoever's out here chilling with him. Possibly sharing said cigarette-like thing. ] I've seen this happen. Twice.

[ and knows it's occurred more than that. A complex problem, repeated again and again and again, and eventually, something surprising has to happen. eventually, a variable will skew, something new will come up. but not until it's gone through it's cycle far, far too long. it's tragic, it really is. ]

I don't know if you guys get it, but this mission - it's the most important thing this planet, maybe this universe, will face. [ not saying that like it's some sort of grand prophecy, just like he's being frank about it, before taking a long drag of his cigarette. like it's a fact no one's actually put words to yet. he sits forward some, folding his arms over the top of a railing, and looking out at the city at large, with a slow sigh, smoke exhaling. ]

Singularity is inevitable. That life will happen one way or another, but if it comes into the world with this kind of crap meeting it? [ he pauses, looking over to his conversation partner with features painted in a deep kind of sorrow. ] This civilization won't survive.

IV. WILDCARD

[[ idk man, hit me, do whatever, dream big, the world is ur oyster, etc ]]

ii getting bearings

[decommission]

[ There's not much to do once they get to the rooms but... pick a room. After living for some weeks in the Station, he's less shocked by the amount of room they're given to themselves, and all to share.

This world is so much less alien than Avera, and yet - ]

Sure. [ He's seated on the bed, hand reaching out into nothing and concentrating hard on the emptiness in front of him. The space of the digital world. It's intuitive, but he can't help feeling like the device wrapped around his ear is too tight, or too loose.

(or that it might crawl into his ear canal and take root)

His gaze refocuses on Sam and his little friend, frowning at the latter before glancing up again. ] Where's your ID say you're from?

i.

[exhuxperation]

[ The hyperspace jump induced nausea is something he's used to, though it still settles in the pit of his stomach, heavy and churning. Hux takes his time recovering, staring ahead without focusing on anything overly much, breathing controlled. By the time they make it out of the shuttle, he's steady, only suffering a little from the shift in gravity.

It's not a shock when their driver turns out to be an android– but perhaps that's because he's so used to droids on the whole. The fact that the droid knows his name is even less shocking, all things considered. Though, it doesn't seem like everyone feels the same way. ]

Not what you expected? [ Their "caretakers" know so much more; names are just a drop in the bucket at this point. ]

[circumspector]

[ The colour of the bright screen washes across her face -- splashes colour on her too pale skin. Dabs of blue and white and pink and yellow playing about her face as her fingers dance on the screen. She's carefully covered herself up, the last thing she wants is someone wondering why she's changing colours for no reason.

No help with her eyes though, still glowing when she looks at him briefly. Sharp snap as she stares before her gaze darts back. Utterly absorbed since she first arrived. It's different, it's so wonderfully different, something new to learn she's happy to throw herself at when she has the chance to. ]

Already in. But... it's slower going than Avera for me. Systems are... too different. They've already flagged me when I pushed too hard. I have to be careful. [ Nothing that's stopping her, granted, just making it more work. ] How about you?

C) POST-RALLY, BACK AT BEARINGS;

[inflori]

[ Doubtful that Sam invited Petre to come on over, so let's say Petre sneaked up and overheard his musings, pinching his brows together at the telling of an experience, the telling of a certainty of events. Singularity. What the hell does the demon know of that? He's just one of the Devil's little minions, even if Earth currently only has two.

Well. One. He's not there anymore. ]

So what. Civilizations aren't supposed to last forever anyway.

III. B.

[vocalis]

[ Aoba is lingering along the outskirts as well, several yards away from where Sam is, a bright head of blue among the crowd. Oddly, he isn't the only brightly colored head of hair for once, which is better for blending in. He glances in Sam's direction but avoids direct eye contact, listening to both the speeches and the network as best he can. ]

Sort of. No, yeah, it's... offensive.

[ It took a while for him to listen, process, and relate to what's being preached. At Sam's question it finally clicks in his head. Or... is that just Sam's frustration bleeding into his own? It's difficult to tell, but either way Aoba has to make an effort to keep his face neutral in the crowd. ]

Androids are called allmates where I'm from. They're a lot more advanced here, but... if someone said these things about allmates, there'd be a lot of outrage.

[ He's getting angry just thinking about these things being said about Ren, and this anger he's able to identify as his own. His allmate, not worthy of love and respect just for being an allmate? He'd want to punch anyone who said that, and Ren's only a pet model. Bringing human models and human rights into the argument trickier, but it's clear H+H1 is going about it all wrong. ]

( iii | a )

[apoptotic]

[ anakin does not bother disguising his disinterest. shopping? not a thing he did often. or ever unless it was to purchase new pieces with which to tinker. having so much money is a little strange: as a jedi, he had little need of it. ( as a slave, he had none. ) living extremely underneath the set budget is easy for him — easier if he had been allowed to stay at the shop from which sam dragged him.

all he needs is pants and a shirt. maybe a long coat. robes are a little conspicuous in this city. the gloves are the only frivolous purchase he allowed himself, and quickly replaced the short cotton one he wore over his prosthetic hand with one of rich, black leather stretching almost to his elbow. the long sleeve hides the rest of the metal. ]

I have what I need.

[ aka: two near-identical changes of clothes in the darkest colors he could find. somewhere on coruscant his wife stares into the sun. ]

lexa | ota

[adamance]

I

[A single thought resonates in her mind from the moment they leave, only straying from the forefront when the nausea hits, and it returns again once she feels steadier: And treat them with the respect they have earned. The statement is at once presumptuous and demanding, and it echoes again and again, making her feel uneasy. The revelation that there are Hosts outside of the Nest is a new one, and one that makes it almost impossible for her to keep her gaze off Carata for the first part of their journey, and then both of them for the second part. Her discomfort radiates off of her.

That is, until she begins to play catch up. There is much that she doesn't know, and after her time on Avera-9, she at least has a firmer grasp on how to utilize the datapad for her own purposes. Her lips purse, uncertain about how to truly take this mission, and she glances toward one of the other hosts to ask,] What do you think about us being here?

II

[Perhaps the most unexpected part of being here isn't the technology (that is still in the process of flying over her head) but how it makes her think of home. Very little of this planet is like her home, but the tall buildings make up for it. The moment she sees one, and then another, and then another, she finds herself swept away by the sentiment of it. Polis had been her home from the point she had become a novitiate until she had become Commander.

It is still her home, though some part of her will always ache to be among the trees of her people.

Her steps are just as much with purpose as always, and she claims her room the same way. But she keeps the door open, actively making a point to invite people inside as she looks out the window. The cityscape is nothing like the world outside of Polis, but she can still imagine the life down below.

She won't turn if someone comes to join her, but there's a sense that she's more relaxed than she has been since she's come to the Station.]

Did you think there were other Hosts out there? Doing work like this? [It's a thought, one that isn't anywhere near the peaceful ones lurking in her mind. But if someone's present, she might as well make the conversation useful.]

III

a: tech tours

[Philosophy is not enough to offer Lexa the bearings she certainly needs in this world. Between the Station and Avera-9, she learned a bit. Angel is helping a lot, but it's still not enough for her. Before long, she seeks out one of the ... businesses involved, hoping that one of the tours available will offer her what she needs. Wasting time isn't wise, after all. She shouldn't do that.

The problem with the I&D Tour is that she isn't allowed to take it. She's kicked out immediately. Hoping that it was a fluke, she tries another tech giant before long, and finds herself encountering the same problem. Unaware of the chip in her neck, she reaches out to the other Hosts, frustration evident in both the emotions she's sending through the link and her tone:]

( Has anyone else attempted one of the tours? )

[True to Lexa's habits, she doesn't indicate precisely what's bringing about this frustration. That would be revealing too much.]

b: rally

[It's only after visiting a bodymod parlor for more information (which she requires, because not only has she been kicked out of several businesses, she still knows very little) that she gains the information she needs. She first learns that there's something that qualifies as "Other" inside of her, and it's more along the lines of technology than the symbiote that she first wrote it off as. After denying further assistance with it, Lexa asks as many questions as she can about life here, trying to ignore her discomfort over what lies inside of her.

She's always known about the Spirit of the Commander inside of her, but she had never known of it as technology. As anything like what exists in this world. Either way, the Spirit had always guided and helped her people. Wasn't that good? It had always helped her, providing her guidance in times of meditation of sleep. All of the previous Commanders waited to offer her assistance.

Because of this, she feels as if there's a demand to go to the rally, to see what those who oppose something like ... the Spirit ... would say. It's weird to categorize it that way, and she's hesitant and stiff when she reaches the rally, remaining on the outskirts.]

( People always make the mistake of seeing things in black and white. The world never is like that. ) [An odd thought, perhaps, coming from someone who's so technologically backward, but she sends it out toward the others just the same.] ( Be careful. ) [If they are there to help, if they are a part of a business themselves, then they might be identified as part of the problem.]

c: returning to the highest heights (at the bearings)

( I'd like to hear about everyone's findings. Join me up top. )

[Yes, "up top" means "the roof." Lexa knows that it's a major demand to ask of the others to just join her, and she only expects a portion of people to follow. Her initial findings are almost too much to handle alone, though she only intends to share them with a very small minority. A very, very small minority.

When someone joins her, she is sitting on the edge looking out, a little fearless when it comes to her life. She is not afraid of falling, and instead seems just as calm as she had been when she first arrived and looked out her claimed room's window. There is nothing child-like in how she sits, and if there's a long lull between people seeing her (or period), she will pull herself back up to sit cross-legged and meditate.

There is much to think on for the day, and part of that involves what lies inside of her.]

(( her alias is going to be Anya Phun, a woman in her mid-twenties who basically works security detail. That's her way of dealing with her cluelessness regarding technology should someone ask: she's not asked to know everything, and she can at least, even under the guise of someone else's face, act like a security person. ))

b. rally

[decommission]

[ Name... Steve Rogers

Occupation... 3D artist

Background...

It's not a lot to memorize, but he's read it all over more than a few times before heading out to the rally with the others.

In place of handwritten signs are bright holograms projected into the air. The crowd is restless and loud. No one gives him a second glance as he strains to pick out individual conversation around him over the buzz, catching Lexa's mental warning instead. ]

( Once you decide people are acceptable collateral damage just to get what you want, it all starts looking pretty black and white to me. ) [ They have never had a conversation mind to mind like this, she wouldn't notice the slight change in his communication - less clipped than it used to be, more patterned to his speaking voice.

He remains standing where he is, sandwiched between two taller men barking back and forth between each other about media bias. ]

NPC | Carata

[serenae]

..___ A

[It is not long after they arrive at Bearings that there is a warm, spiced scent from the centralized kitchen, and it is an open enough space that it is easy to see her puttering around the centralized island, pressing some sort of dried fruit to her tongue. She is bare-foot and has changed into something even looser and more relaxed than before, sleeves pushed up as she chops what appear to be nuts into fine pieces, ready to add into the flat cake-like food that is baking in the oven. She appears entirely collected, a small smile on her face as she slides piles out of her way with the flat of her blade before beginning on the next small pile- chop, chop, chop- a steady regular rhythm.

She is not, precisely, busy, and when someone enters her space she will raise her eyes up to look at you, smile widening slightly.]

How are you finding it?

..___ B

[Somewhat later in the afternoon, long after the early hours when she had ushered the hosts out into the brave new world of Concordia, Carata can be found folded neatly over a bright white desk in the living area. Her fingers flick absently across the table, over a stream of information only she can see, and she tips her head, humming slightly in interest. After a moment, however, she tips her head up, as if she's heard something, and smiles, straightening her back and stretching her arms in front of her before standing smoothly.

When she turns and finds someone there the smile doesn't fade. Instead she takes a step forward, lacing her fingers together in front of her neatly.]

Would you like to come see something?

b

[decommission]

[ The city is noisy and full of movement, more alive than Avera and almost the opposite of the sterile halls of the Station. It's all that bustle that has him pausing to stare for a second, instead of opening his mouth. When she turns he briefly appears caught, a deer caught in headlights as she approaches. ]

Uh - yeah, alright?

[ Sounds better when you don't add a question to the end. Too late. ]

Angel | OTA

[circumspector]

OUT & ABOUT

      . i shopping chanel
[ She avoids the rally because she wears her cybernetics too obviously. More, she knows she's small, doesn't present a threat, and if she were to use her abilities otherwise it would give up their cover too quickly. Rather she's got better things to do -- tech, maybe not the same but she knows with enough time she ought to be able to adapt it but even so, who cares when there was so much of it. She makes like a kid in a candy store with it. An eclectic to see everything, touch everything, barter back and forth with shop owners about price and soon enough she's collected plenty for herself.

Which she's sorry fellow hive member, she doesn't have enough arms for this, so when she runs into someone she knows, she's very carefully pushing the items at them so she can free up her own hands because she's seen something else -- ] Here, can you hold these for second?

[ No? Too bad, she's already darting towards another store with an eager wave to follow. ] Come on, I think I saw whatever their equivalent for hydrophobic polygrease is. I don't fancy rusting just yet.

      . ii sea of voices
[ Eventually though, she does get to work. But almost immediately it's nothing like Avera, that had been simplistic in its difference, this was complicated in a different way. Yes, used to ridiculous things, and they'd reached a singularity of a different kind. Wilhelm is the closest thing she could think of, even if he'd gone the other way, human to robot. AI had certain rights, in part why Jack fought so hard to suppress the Loader Bots made from Felicity. Doesn't surprise her, had to happen eventually. All technology had been shaped by the vaults, and she, in turn, was made as part of them -- natural for her to control technology of her own home with a simple ease.

This is different again, developed another way and after her first brush against it, that she does physically this time, hood pulled up, sleeves yanked down and a fingerless glove on her off hand to hide the glow of her body and eyes. Though it trails down her fingers as she uses the physical point by way of tapping at screens to get her the truer access she needs. Does her best not to be too obvious, keeps her breathing even if it's shallow with the effort, burrowing herself deeper and -- gets a little red warning for her interaction. Flagged. ] That's new. [ and not what she wants at all. Makes sense, granted but she frowns and tries again, to get another warning. Not... right. She kilters back. No, she will need to work to find out anything this way, and once she realises, she settles to do so. Finds public terminals, and slips herself against one, then another, then another. Once she's done that, removes herself. The great novelty of being a siren, she doesn't need to actually stand at them once she has her connection. Instead she behaves in a pointed she takes some of her new purchases -- e-books or the equivalent. Granted it takes her seconds to absorb the book, she takes the time to settle like she's busy reading. Like she's waiting for someone and just passing the time, or just studying. Either way, less like she's doing anything as she busy her mind elsewhere in the process of integration, learning this new system to utilitize it without getting busted for it.

Takes it toll even if she's not doing anything openly. After while, she reaches out with to anyone nearby. Just like Avera, her mind is a cacophony of voices clambering speaking over each other and talking around her, that rushed, speed of the world inside machines. Like she's calling from a throng of people rather, has to speak more clearly to make sure she's distinct over it's rattle and hum. ]

( Hey, can you bring me something to eat? Whatever is close by is fine. )

[ She will do this almost every day, but from a new spot to stop her being traced too easily or often. Learning a new system with this much information being flung around to find anything useful takes time. ]

      . iii grey matter - later in the week
[ At one point, she's got to try, even if it's not quite right -- she is what she is, and sirens were too destructive by some unwritten rule, and it just seems like being able to brain wash an android will be useful at some point. Got to see what's inside their head.

So she finds one -- a public worker, by the look of him. Comes up with an arbitrary excuse to lead him off to help her. Something safe but urgent to not alarm him. Turns a corner and acts -- quickly. She doesn't want him raising the alarm on her, either. Breathes faintly into the quiet of the alley to him with a soft soothing murmur of her voice: ] I'm so sorry, I just want to see how you work.

[ And she's reaching up with her left hand, setting two fingers against his temple, her eyes flaring brightly again as she sinks her mind against his through the cacophony of his evolving program of a mind and settles herself in for one whole second.

And then he overloads, the sink of her thoughts to his short circuit something. They drag with her, and get scrambled. Turns him into a garble of basic coding that she understands, the rest that turns to nonsense.

She yanks back from him as the Android stands there, all but brain dead from what she's done and -- ] ( Shit-- Shoot, I mean shoot. No, no, come on. Come on -- ) [ Panicking, she reaches up to the android, fingers searching lightly for a response, and then more urgently giving him a shake, like she's trying to revive him, but nothing happens -- or rather she gets an automated message about factory settings and her panicking piques. Never had to clean up her own messes, and terrified that this one might cost them too much. ] ( Fuck, fuck, fuck -- Help? Someone? I think I've... )

[ Made a mess. Lobotomized a robot. Which is completely the opposite of what she wanted, or what their goal even was. ]

HOME BASE

      . i lemme upgrade u - earlier in the week
[ After her shopping trip, she's got a dozen things she wants to try out, but starts with the important ones first. Rather she sits herself down in front of a mirror in the common area, with a table next to her, and a tool kit that she picked up for just this purpose.

... And appears to have cracked open her own skull. Or at least, her skull plates. Hooks her thumbnail under the edge of the plate to snap it open. Then takes up a screwdriver, a little one and turns her head to face the mirror, putting herself the angle so that she can see what appears to be a series of wires that run into her brain. Normal for her, but the first time she's had to do this herself. Gently undoes one tiny screw and picks up a set of tweezers to lift out the screw and set down on a cloth on her small work table so she wouldn't lose it. Below that is a card of some kind, a tiny chip that seems important, given it apparently connects to her brain.

Going just fine with her apparent brain surgery, until she realises she doesn't have enough hands for this. Calls to whoever the lucky person is in the room with her as politely as possible. ]

Hey, can I borrow you for a minute?

[ granted, she would like the company for her odd bit of maintaince. She treats it the same way as brushing her hair or doing washing. Just a chore. Granted this world is all shockingly normal to her, for it's difference, but she's happy to listen and to talk like this. ]

      . ii r & r
[ Outside of that, she can be found in the common areas, doing what she normally does -- over buying on strange foods that she happily pushes towards anyone that looks interested, reading over reports of information relevant to their mission and occasionally just in a pile on the couch where she's forgotten to sleep regularly or limit her abilities use and has utilized the closest person as a pillow yet again. ]

WILDCARD

[ Got an idea? Go for it. Feel free to PM me or toss me a message on my plurk @themajesty. ]

ii. sea of voices

[vocalis]

Angel? Is that you?

[ Of course it's her. He knows the moment she brushes his mind. But it's been a while, and Aoba's head is clouded with a haze of pain. He's trying to be better about rationing the medication Cathaway gave him for this mission, from the beginning. And he's only just started today, brought planetside late since waking up.

He can tell she's close, feels like she's above him somewhere, but the headache is making it difficult to pinpoint her. He reaches out a tiny bit more, wincing with the effort. When his voice comes in, it's as calml and cheerful as ever, a forced effort he's used to. ]

Sure I can get you something, but could you send me an image of where you are? I'm having a little trouble...

[ He's not sure how much pain he's broadcasting through the noise. Hopefully not a lot. Hopefully she can't tell. ]

rhys | ota

[dbag]

I | THE WHEELS ON THE BUS

[ The android driver is probably one of the only people who's been happy to see him recently. To its greeting, Rhys replies, ] Hello to you, too, Taxi-Bot. [ Is that its name? Doesn't matter, it is now. He gives it a pat on the shoulder.

After getting situated &mdash he takes up too much space, what with his resemblance to Lanky Kong and all — he leans conspicuously into the person next to him's space, whispering in a way that's entirely too easy to hear, defeating its only purpose. ]

So, 'when we've finished our job,' that's... the vaguest thing anyone's ever said, what do you think that means? Like, three days, three years, I'm just trying to get a feel here.

II | HOME SWEET HOME

[ Rhys doesn't even close his door, just scampers in to check out the tech inside like an excited puppy waiting for someone to throw it a tennis ball. He's disappointed at first, before he sees the wall panel. He wouldn't consider Pandora particularly tech-savvy compared to Concordia — he wouldn't consider it any kind of savvy at all, except murder-savvy — and it's nice to have new, modern technology.

There's plenty of exciting technology outside this room, but somehow, he gets stuck on the appearance panel. Walking through the hall, it's a bit distracting; through his door one sees the walls go from red to orange to yellow as he flicks through all the possible colors. He makes his way through ROY G. BIV a few times before trying to see if he can make an accent wall. On top of that, the lighting keeps changing — light, dark, light, dark, blindingly bright, odd dim mood-lighting, light, dark, light, dark. He seems more interested in the change than the actual end result, quickly tiring of whatever setting he's put it on and changing it again.

It's enough to make your eyes hurt, honestly. ]

III | FEET ON THE GROUND

[ Rhys looks far too Mr. Roboto to make an appearance at the rally, but he does go out into the city a few times for Serious Reconnaissance Reasons. ]

Hey, weigh in on the tie situation, will you?

[ No, it's just a shopping spree. He holds up two equally hideous ties; they're printed and so gaudy it should be illegal. He puts one up to his neck— ] Okay, option one... [ —and then the other. ] Or option two. Are you looking? You're not looking. Okay, I'll say it again, option one...

god what do i even choose.... || i. wheels on the bus

[exhuxperation]

[ Their android driver is quite chirpy– reminds him of those older model task droids with a less fussy personality. Hux doesn't waste too many words in exchange with the droid, just a simple greeting. So really, usually how he deals with everyone.

He's just gotten settled in his seat when a weight from the side leans in. Instinctively, he leans fractionally away, expression flinty at the sudden invasion of his space. What is with people? Why don't they have any manners anymore? ]

If you're attempting to be secretive, it's failing. [ Calling that immediately. He's no fun. ] It means when we're done. Likely best if you're prepared for the worst.

petre dodrescu, ota

[inflori]

I.

[ If the tension from burning Ilde's garden is supposed to linger in the air, Petre's ignoring it completely. There wasn't much left to do on-site when he first woke up in the Nest, but this - this is his first mission for it. It doesn't feel like the first time he and Diana worked for the Devil; it's so much more organized and there are actual orders and plans to be followed rather than just winging it. He knows he can't just run in and start biting people. Or stabbing them. Or shooting them. So that's different.

Feel free to tell him to stop thinking about maiming. And to stop biting his nails. ]

III.
[ While the mind link wakes them up, some might actually be able to hear Petre groaning like a child being rushed to go to school. ]

Ugh, really?

[ He has to drag himself, but eventually he manages to look put together. He tries to adjust the jacket over his shoulders and arms. It's kinda big for a kid with normal enough shoulders but scrawny arms, but passing by a reflection he realizes that he quite likes this kind of fashion. He should have tried it back home; he could certainly get away with it. Right? Tell him he's right.

Somewhere during the rally he gets handed a flyer about some arcade place that just has a lot of 'fight' in the text. He's interested, so he goes to tug on your jacket for your attention. ]

Hey, this looks cool. Let's go.

[ Mission what mission. ]

I

[snippycup]

[Ahsoka has several things to be worrying about in regards to their assignment. While focusing on blocking them out of her mind, she can't help but hone in on Petre's rather violent thoughts.

It offends her delicate Jedi sensibilities. Her nose wrinkles noticeably in distaste after a minute of enduring and she pauses from pulling her hood over her montrals to glance at the offender.]

Hey. What's your problem?

[Poise? Politeness? Maybe with people who aren't thinking murderous things right out of the gate.]

Ahsoka Tano | ota

[snippycup]

I

[For once, Ahsoka is less than vocal during their excursion. There's a few reasons for it, most of which are not readily apparent. The one that is apparent is thanks to the fact that its at the forefront of her mind.

They are landing on a planet who has yet to have contact with alien life, and she is hardly anything resembling human. Were it anywhere else in the galaxy at any other time she might have a plan to blend, or at least hide. But such is not the case -- they'll be hitting the ground running, and she would quickly end up as the center of attention.

Its a stress point, enough that she can be seen shifting between different resting positions. At some moments, she can even be found trying to meditate in spite of Carata's explanation.

Once they park, she wastes no time in disembarking and finding someone tall to shadow herself behind. Hopefully, they would all be heading toward the same place, and she could scurry to their resting place before too many people saw her.]

II

[Finding a place to rest her head is the first thing Ahsoka concerns herself with. She can be seen breaking away from the pack to slip inside, and is one of the first ones out of the elevator so that she is able to dip into a room far down the hall. It is only after she sits herself down on the mattress that she is able to exhale in relief.

And there she stays for most of the first day, watching life move in the streets below while she considers how to approach movement of her own. How to blend, how to hide, and who she can trust to travel with her should she need to move on the surface. She puts the uniform on almost immediately, but it doesn't hide the orange of her skin, or the tall crest of her montrals.

She will need a cloak.]

III

[The interfacing device makes her uncomfortable, mostly due to the idea that its meant to interface with her brain. Unlike the other hosts, she lacks ears to hang it off of. Her's comes in the form of a collar cinched around her neck -- gold, with a single blue jewel set in the center. She inspects it in the mirror for a time, plucking at it with her fingers as her mind runs over the various ways an interfaced brain could backfire.

But, there is something to be said for being able to move around somewhere without having to show her actual alien face.

The next person who goes to leave the apartments might find Ahsoka sheepishly trying to stop them by reaching out with one hand and a clearing of her throat. Her address always starts with a smile in spite of her obvious discomfort.]

So...how's it going out there? You figure out this interface business yet?

IV

[By the time the day of the rally has rolled around, Ahsoka has managed to procure a matching hooded cloak over her uniform that allows her to move while covering her more alien features. And move she does, though there is still some caution to her steps.

The rally is cause for concern, even if she has no cybernetics of her own. There are plenty of people in their entourage that do. But it was not as if she couldn't sympathize with the protesters. Two years of relentlessly fighting a droid army would give anyone a bit of wariness toward machine-people that you were not familiar with.

But discomfort did not justify genocide or terrorism. She's dangerously close to the goings on, and doesn't expect anyone else to be there with her. So when she does find someone from the Nest closer to the rally than is healthy, she double-takes and hisses to her new party member.]

What do you think you're doing?!

IV

[adamance]

[The look she offers Ahsoka is one that's deeply displeased. The fact that she's being called out here as if she's in any danger unsettles her, making her want to grab Ahsoka by the arm and drag her away for a firm lesson. Any of the Host members would be met with this, but given their previous failures at communication, it hits a little harder.

Still, knowing that anything as abrupt as what Ahsoka just did would be met with suspicion from the other people there, Lexa forces her features to cool a bit, leaving her with only furrowed eyebrows and a tight mouth.]

I came to participate, [she says, voice sharp. There's the sense that this is a cover, a lie. Ahsoka hadn't thought before she acted before speaking sets Lexa on edge. They are meant to be undercover, and here, they have an opportunity of blowing it right off the bat.]

THE H A T C H

[onemind]

DAY :004

You WAKE UP. Is that strange? It feels like a moment ago, life was very different; you probably weren't lying horizontal for one, and now when you open your eyes there's nothing familiar at all. Where once there was chaos and pain, real or perceived, now there is just quiet. Calm. A gentle mottled light and the sense of time having passed somehow, slipped between your fingers.

Welcome to Station 72, everyone. You'll have a day to acquaint yourself with the Station, introduce yourselves to each other, and ask any questions of the Station's strange keepers, The Prince and Cathaway, that you might want wish to. Explore. Be curious. Flex your new mental muscles. Just try not to set anything on fire (and ignore the weird burned out patch in the circle gardens...; it's fine. Everything's fine.).

While there's plenty to look at explore in the vast labyrinth of Station 72, your instructors will tell you that you won't be here long; tomorrow you're schedule to travel to Concordia. You'll join the others there, they say. Sure enough, roughly a day after hatching you're all called to the Flight Deck. There's a svelte looking transport ship there and though you won't know it, this scene plays out almost the same way it did for the other hosts. There is a young woman - strangely familiar, though you've definitely never met her before - who introduces herself as Carata. She'll be your right down to the planet and cheerfully answer any additional questions you might have. Equipment is doled out, all of it relatively straight forward though Cathaway and The Prince are insistent on making sure everyone knows to keep their databanks carrying their mission briefing in offline mode.

Once gear is distributed, everyone's loaded on the transport and harnesses are buckled, the transport departs the Station by way of the deck platform it's on rotating down. It drops the ship into a launch tube. A moment of quiet and then-- it jerks. The starship flies free of the Station, free of the nexus point, and arrives with a nauseating tilt of reality above the multi-colored marble of a planet, Opia.

Again they fly under the cover of night. Again, their landing zone is a remote location: some kind of practice sporting field at the edge of Concordia, the chalky substrate a fair substitution for tarmac. Once everyone's off the ship, the stealth transport lifts off on its own accord and blinks out of sight. "Don't worry," says Carata. "It will be back when we need it." She leads the way to the parking lot surrounding the field. A few moments later, a van - that's definitely what it is - pulls up. Everyone pile in!

"There you are," says the man in the passenger seat. The android driver greets everyone by the names on their IDs (real or otherwise). The man twists to look at the new hosts. "Good. We need you. We've already gotten nowhere."

"Oh Nirad, do not be so negative. You will exhaust them."

The drive lasts a few hours, but eventually the van arrives at Bearings. Take the lift to the LEVEL NUMBER EIGHTEEN. You'll find the source to that strange, persistent itch - that compulsive, instinctive longing for something familiar - waiting for you there: all the other young hosts of Station 72, elbow deep in the work they've been given.

((ooc: Top level as appropriate under this subthread! New players are welcome to play both on the Station and on Concordia, though Station prompts should be closed to other new hatchlings. Once on Concordia, it's a free for all. Feel free to approach NPCs on or off Station if you feel like it; we'll keep an eye out for where we're needed. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to contact us.))

Sam Wilson | for other new hatchlings / OTA

[sizeofyourbaggage]

I | On the Station

[Sam'd like to say that he knew what he was getting into when he accepted the deal to keep him and the other members of his team safe - but he doesn't have to wake up like he's popping himself out of the Matrix to realize that nah, he didn't have a damn clue. He's not sure which is more unsettling, the flare of pain or the calm after it's gone. Although considering both of them are accompanied by the confusing press of feelings and senses that threaten to overwhelm him, maybe he doesn't have to pick one or the other.

It's not like it's the first time that his mind's been a mess and he hadn't been able to untangle the web of emotions enough to figure out what they were, but at least he'd been pretty sure they were his own. Still, he pushes past them, taking a moment to breathe before he heads out of the chamber. Fortunately, he finds his pack and the rest of his stuff nearby, and being able to settle it over his shoulders and feel its familiar weight against his back helps ground him as he moves onward.

Explore, they said, and all right, he can do that. It'd take him a hell of a lot longer than a day to get used to the strange feeling in his mind, the tug and pull that draws him somewhere he doesn't really understand, and the vague feeling of emptiness that he doesn't really want to look at too closely.

But he'll work with what he's got, and if he runs into someone familiar during his explorations, he'll pause with a raised eyebrow.]

Well, shit.

II | Arrival at Bearings

[It’s hard to be surprised when Sam’d had zero expectations for where their little road trip was going to end up. If he had to be stuck in a van with someone for a few hours, well, at least it’s not a new experience when it comes to Barnes and Clint, but he’s still just relieved to stretch his legs when they get to the building. The fact that they’re putting them all up in an apartment, communal as it is, is just more confirmation that this isn’t going to be a quick in and out mission.

But he shrugs it off, trying hard to handle the increase of sensations in his head and the way it feels like a sigh of relief and even more overwhelming than it had back on the station. He’s only had a day to try to get used to all of this, and that was with mostly only have to deal with two people. If he’s honest, he doesn’t really want to get used to this, not really. Sam’s always been pretty conscious of what he’s giving away and what people are giving him on a verbal and physical level, and he’s not sure he wants to add mental in to all of that. Especially when he doesn’t have near the handle on it as he does the other two.

It’s almost a relief to get thrown into a mission pretty quickly like this - even if Sam’s not sure yet what he thinks about it, it’s easier to focus on that than on anything else.

He’s poking around for an empty room to claim when he comes across someone else, and he shoots them a small, friendly smile.]

So just how late to this party am I, huh? We talking ‘fashionably,’ ‘you might as well have just stayed home and watched Netflix,’ or ‘thank god we’re in our final hour and need all the back up we can get’?

III | Exploring the City

[By now, Sam’s more than aware of the fact that he’s always done better working with a partner or a team. He can go it alone, sure, it’s just why make it harder for himself when he doesn’t have to? This isn’t the team that Sam’s used to working with, but then, the Avengers started out that way, too. It seems like they’re all gonna be working together at least for the foreseeable future, and as far as Sam’s concerned, there’s no point in fighting that.

He’d rather get a read on them sooner than have to deal with it later.

So when he’s looking to head out and get some exploring done, he definitely doesn’t want to do it alone. Which means the first person who looks like they’re going out is going to find Sam at their side.]

You up for some company? [There’s a brief pause, and then his smile turns a little bit teasing.] And if the answer’s no, what am I gonna have to bribe you with to make it a yes?

Kylo Ren | OTA

[narcissithstic]

LET'S GET SOME SHOES

[He takes to it with forced fervor, the sprawling city and its artificial blood. That it pulses with light and an ever-present digital hum doesn't make it his own world (in his youth he'd seen the glory of Coruscant, bright and beaming and utterly stained beneath the surface where smoke coiled thick - places where his father's preferred company) but it's familiar at least, more so than either Avera or the Station itself, and that equates to a pale comfort if nothing else. Has his sharp features cutting a less grim figure in spite of the gruesome scar that divides his face, particularly against a colorful backdrop of flickering, digital advertisements and displays - most of them young and unnaturally altered with a sort of synthetic precision. Flash laser resurfacing, facial contouring managed by nothing more than a few lab-mixed cocktails and a computer program, 'in and out in less than a single lunch break' one ad promises before switching over to a close up shot of a bottle of wine peppered with actively dripping condensation.

"You should get that fixed." One of the staff says to him directly from where she's sitting behind a nearby counter, chin in hand. The clothing store's small, and not nearly as expensive as the last handful he'd visited to finish filling out his planetside identity (hence the holo-displays for partnered stores that roll up along the back wall) but for all the restraint money had bought him, the other attendants had stared just as much, Ren belatedly realizes.

Back home, attractiveness was an entirely nebulous term. Galaxies carried hundreds of thousands of races, each of them with their own ideals and cultures, each brushing shoulders with the next: some species made a habit of being universally admired, others of being despised, but more often than not it was the primitive, planetary-bound races that held strict, definitive standards. Here, all that exists is humanity, really. And they've had thousands of years to perfect the art of self-judgment.

The symbiotic link hums with a flicker of irritation; Ren shifts the heavy assortment of bags already clinging to his arm when he lifts his damaged profile to meet her stare.

And turns to leave.

He's already collected enough to effectively pass as a local resident, and most of what they stock isn't really his style anyway. Not enough grimdark black.]

GDI CERBERUS THIS ISN'T MASS EFFECT

[The True Children of Opia', that's what they call themselves.

Ren's seen them before. Not here, not even the faces that crowd the streets, howling no more than a few feet from where he's keeping watch, shoulder-to-shoulder with a few other locals that turned for a mix of personal reasons (a tangle of emotion he feels keenly: curiosity, fear, anger) but back in his own world where activism was almost a part of daily life. When the titan that was the Empire collapsed it left a potent, problematic void in its wake that the New Republic had to struggle fruitlessly to fill. Some of the groups wanted change for the better.

Some of them just wanted an excuse to scream.

And beneath the shadow of his hood, Ren keeps the Force close to his chest, straining against the din to try and keep his own focus. Like digging through sand for a single stone, it's difficult, tiring work to separate their thoughts - but as Phasma herself was often keen to remind him, scum tend to keep company with their own kind: they may not be related to Humans and Humans First, but that doesn't mean there isn't an overlap somewhere. Or that there won't be once the rallying dies down.

That said, the discomfort of his work is palpable for anyone from the Nest within close proximity, and likely more so for his own broodmates. That painful headache you're currently nursing? It isn't entirely your own.

Grats on sharing brainspace with an intergalactic conduit.]

WILDCARD

[OOC: Ren's currently busying himself with scanning the local crowds as often as possible at key points (places that work closely with androids or upgrade manufacturing) but he's actively looking to either match information or get a little tactical insight from someone that isn't a blunt weapon/full-time murder machine like himself. When he isn't essentially on task, most of his time is devoted to caring for the comatose woman he currently keeps in his apartment from day 004 onwards until Carata tells him to stop because holy shit that's weird so feel free to ask about that one if you stop by and happen to see Jessica Jones AKA Snow White very respectfully laid out on his couch.

Also if there's anything else you want to do, just hit me up at ladyavali or CLU2flynn on AIM!]

[cognitived]

[ Ren's not the only one watching the rally, soaking in the screams and rage and climbing roar of the crowd. Clint's a bit closer than he'd prefer, but really, Clint would would prefer a rooftop, a scope in hand. He always did see better from a distance.

But there could be some information gained here, something he'd miss from up on high, so here he is. Listening and remembering and trying to soak in all he can. Ren's discomfort prickles across his awareness, slow enough that Clint isn't sure it isn't his own unease, his own headache. But there's something else there -- a rage, a disgust, it crackles at the edges hungrily, and Clint knows. ]

Hey. [ He pipes up, close enough to speak softly under the din, but staying carefully out of range. Not really saying anything about Ren, cus man Clint doesn't know him, but more out of habit. He's a paranoid old sod. ] You're projecting everywhere, dude.

[ Not that he's the best to speak, here. Just barely held together with gossamer threads and sheer stubborn will. ]

Ilde Vilmaine | Such Options

[erbier]

II. HOME SWEET HOME

BSOD | OTA
[ Concordia is unlike anything Ilde has ever seen before. So many people, such sprawling cities. Even her understanding of her world's past, from before the Godking burned it all, seemed paltry in comparison. It is immediately overwhelming to her, utter over-stimulation of everything that she can see and she can hear. Bright colors and crowds. She shuts down like an overheated laptop, quickly, no longer thinking nor retaining much information, merely sticking to the side of whoever is close... ]

Interior Design | OTA
[ The landscape she chooses is fantastical. It pleases her visually with its vibrant colors and the slow glittering movement of water, its brightness. Beautiful, but rather flat... (A) She stands at the wall for a moment, touching the imaginary scenery and hurt by its falseness for a moment. But soon enough, she finds a way to make it her own in her moments of rest.

(B) The music is different this time, the sounds are combinations of every day noise and electronic ones, they make a rhythm that is simple, almost like a lullaby with a feminine voice crooning softly over top of it. Daydreaming, Ilde imagines wind and the smell of the trickling waterfall, the shining lake. She fills in the sounds of birds and sweet animals coming to drink at the edge of the lake. As she so frequently does when alone, a poetry she has long since memorized drifts through her thoughts, intertwining with the music, ]

( Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring
Your Winter-garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To flutter--and the Bird is on the Wing... )

Jessica | Castor
[ She returns from with little trinkets for her sleeping sister. Glittery things that she slips onto Jessica's fingers and wrists and lines into her hair, flowers as well. She had never gotten to know her very well... it's all Ilde really knows how to do to express her grief. ]

III. FEET ON THE GROUND

Drag Strip I | Action | OTA
[ The small group approaches her when she is sitting along in the shopping district. They are modified, rather heavily, something which still causes her some discomfort but she strives to handle, knowing she has some similar beings within her Hive. The girls have sharp teeth and electronic eyes, the boys have vents in their shoulders where they can broadcast loud music... She gives them a wary look to which they only smile. The boy who seems to have instigated this confrontation smiles at her, neon colors in his mouth, tells her she's pretty but looks like she never has any fun. The others nod, making comments about the simple white clothes she is wearing, the messy tumble of her hair. She frowns at them disapprovingly, wondering aloud why they don't mind their own business. That where she comes from, people don't say such rude things to strangers if they do not wish to lose their tongues. Her threat is airy enough that they do not take her seriously, instead they ask her where she's from. What she does.

Ah... well. She recites what had been chosen for her. An aspiring idol singer. This merely excites them. That's why she's dressed that way, going for the innocent pure look because she was in the public eye. It just makes them smile wider.

They invite her to come have some fun with them, maybe sing a tune to kick off the races. The girls pull her up, suddenly all admiring for her blue eyes and unmodified features. It takes everything inside of Ilde to relax into it. She doesn't know what they want, doesn't trust them, doesn't trust where they're taking her, but she certainly can't repeat the same mistakes as the previous mission... She goes with them, warily, ]

( These young people say they are taking me to see... racing. Drag racing? )

[ Looking for reassurance from whoever hears her, and perhaps someone will take it upon themselves to come find her... ]

Drag Strip II | Mental Link | OTA
( I have been introduced to a shadow market for a variety of spare parts. For those of you with such skills. )

Cemetery I | Action | First Come First Serve
[ She learns from the subspace youths what is done with the dead. It intrigues her deeply, this idea of eternal memory. So many in her world were merely forgotten, devoured, incinerated... ]

I am going to look at the memory banks.

[ Perhaps the answer to a question, or an invitation, it depends on the person. ]

Cemetery II | Mental Link | Ahsoka
( Do your people keep their dead in such a way? )

Psychic Fair | Action | OTA
[ Welcomed into the youth culture of the subspace runaways was quite informative... One of the girls had told her excitedly, dreamily, about the Market and so Ilde had gone, thinking... Thinking perhaps she might find something to help guide Jessica back. She comes from a world of magic, she is not as skeptical as most, although what she finds at the market itself is really not what she expected. It lacks some of the dignity of the magic she knows. She wanders the stalls uncertainly, looking at trinkets and listening to the promises of those who peddle them. She buys a few. She listens to a few of the shamans, is distantly intrigued by a one or two but moves on.

It is the anti-synthetic proselytizer which gains her attention, his language particularly hateful in an otherwise peaceful gathering. It gets under her skin quickly, able to hear his dramatic oration at a distance. She finds herself scowling up at him before she knows it, ]

You are an ungrateful insect.

[ She is ice cold and furious, dressing the man down for being such a foolish and vile monger of hate in an otherwise prosperous world... ]

IV. WILDCARDS

Plotting Brainstorm!! Feel free to let any of those things inspire you, or hit me up with anything else you want!

petre comes to wreck the day

[inflori]

[ Unsurprisingly, Petre ends up gravitating toward the subspace, where the majority of the people don't really want to end up because it's just - weird. Freaks of all kinds, some of them proud to be that way, they show off their mods and make no effort to blend in. What's the point when they couldn't afford it even if they wanted to? Some will even get into the debate that it's just a matter of society and its injustices, but that's digging into issues far too deep for Petre to care even slightly about. Blech, politics.

Instead he pokes and prods at the people who carry around modifications, and ends up claiming he has some of his own. However he comes about that lie is a bit vague, but he's eager to show off once encouraged (dared). He's sitting on a wall, eyes black, teeth turned into fangs that seem more grotesque than practical, the small group around him uttering compliments like that's sick and such other noises.

Petre's one pleased little monster. Pity Nate couldn't be here, he should show off his stuff, too. Then they'd both gain a little trust from these guys and get a pass to the underground. ]

THE H A T C H (2.0)

[onemind]

DAY :008

You WAKE UP to a disorienting sensation of vertigo. Weren't you just awake? Weren't you just some place very different? Give it a second; eventually your mind will realize it isn't exactly required to hit the ground running. Slowly pieces click into place: there's a sense of some time having passed since last you were fully aware. What year is it? Where are you? Does it matter?

When you exit your nesting deck chamber and reach the floor, you'll find you're not alone. There's a man and an older woman waiting there and a strong sense of familiarity to both; further, a small number of the lower nesting chambers are populated by people peacefully sleeping - but there's something disturbingly inert about them, something uncomfortably corpse-like.

Speaking of corpses-- Cathaway looks directly to the (significantly) oldest of the new hosts present. To The Darkling she says, "The body you brought with you is being held elsewhere. I can take you to it if you like."

Welcome to station 72, everyone! Prince and Cathaway make themselves available for conversation and answering questions and you're all given roughly twenty-four hours to explore the Station before they'll be expected to leave for their MISSION and chase that aching, tugging sensation of something or someone waiting for their presence. If you make it down to the flight deck early, you'll find a strange sleek transport being prepared for your departure and an anxious young man who introduces himself as Nirad inside it. He hums - not literally, not with his mouth, but with his mind across the link you all share now.

Once the hour of departure arrives, Cathaway and Prince will see to it that the three of you are outfitted properly. They warn everyone to keep the small collapsible databank pad in offline mode for the duration of their stay on Concordia and then they say good bye and good luck.

Nirad hums the whole trip from the Station to Concordia; luckily it's a short one. The ship exits the Station with a nausea inducing collapse of the multiverse and spits the ship out above the glossy blue and green marble of the planet Opia. For those of you familiar with it, it looks both similar to and absolutely nothing like Earth.

Slicing through atmosphere, the stealth ship makes its landing in the courtyard of an apartment complex in the heart of Gamma Block. It's not exactly the most subtle landing (oops), but Nirad seems largely unconcerned. Anyway the ship takes off on its own once they've disembarked, so there's nothing to worry about, right? Nirad leads the three new hosts to the nearest bullet train platform and it's a shockingly short trip from there to the Bearings building.

It's very early in the morning when they all step off the lift to LEVEL NUMBER EIGHTEEN to the sensation of belonging. You've never been to this place, but that doesn't matter. The people here are comforting, familiar, and your proximity to them feels undeniably...correct.

TIME TO GET TO WORK.

((ooc: Toplevel as appropriate under this subthread! New players are welcome to play both on the Station and in Concordia, though Station prompts should be closed to other new hosts and/or the three NPCs on the Station at the time of the hatch. Once on Concordia, it's a free for all! Feel free to approach an NPC if you feel like it; we'll keep an eye out for where we're needed. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to contact us.))

parker // bellatrix ( iota )

[unfavoured]

( ONE. ) IN THE RUSH OF LIFE, THE WARM BODY TURNED MY BLOOD COLD.

[ This is wrong.

There is a hum, faint, present, loud, that keeps telling her otherwise. But this is wrong. There is a quietness to the whole place that she isn't prepared for. A brightness that makes her eyes water for a brief second as she blinks often to adapt to it. There is blood on her clothes and a pang of pain somewhere inside her, not as bad as it was seconds ago, but it is there. Her ears are still ringing from a violent screeches and sharp gunshots. They are not in this place and it's disorienting. Her instinct is to-- move. Get out. So she does and then something snaps, dislodged wire, and she winces at it, quickly pressing a hand to the back of her neck. Shit, what was that? But the brief pinch is nothing compared to the flood of-- abstraction in to her mind. Feels like having her mind probed again and Parker holds a hand to her ear, heaving.

Slowly, it comes back to her. The safety of her own. Right. Okay.

Pushing her way out of the pod, she turns around on her ankles to take a look at it, frowning. Walking, finds herself hitting her legs into the cubicle with her stuff. A small sliver of satisfaction at that. Grabs on to it, helmet and gun especially and makes sure it's fully loaded. Does not holster it, treating this place as hostile (even if there is a familiarity to it, soft voice, it's okay-- no, it is not). Ignores the white clothes, never really her colour. Keeps those she has on, a little worn out, blood on it, but she never did care much for first impressions.

Huffs, all annoyed, through her nose and wipes the caked blood from her forehead. Move forward, out of the chamber into the ample room and frowns. She thinks she knows them. But she doesn't. Yes, she does-- what the hell is she talking about? There's no way she knows them.

Her fingers tighten their grip on the handle of the gun. Uncomfortable. Hides behind violence. She forces herself to scrub that familiar feeling out, out of her mind and skin. Doesn't help they're talking about corpses, either. ]

What is this? [ Ah, so sharp and biting. More accurately, she means where am I and what are doing here and everything else you could ask in this type of situation, but she has never been much of a talker. ]

( TWO. ) LOOK THROUGH ME, EVERY CREVICE, IMPERFECTION.

[ She does her exploring solo. Takes careful amount of consideration to avoid where people are. Holds patiently to the time it takes for, whoever they are, to empty the premise to later go see it by herself. Especially after the encounter with that weirdo humming in her head and that rose all the hairs of the back of her neck, enough to reject it so violently she almost hurt herself snapping away from the link. So, she keeps her distance, even with the constant ache of loneliness. It is-- it is normal to feel like so. Cut off from those she had cared about (she always feels like that, and guilty, and isolated), but there is something else. Like a second beat to her thoughts, a misguided echo and that is not hers. She squeezes her eyes shut every time it wails through her mind and drowns it out. Her mind. Single and her own.

The mission hits-- hits very close to home. Augmentation. Biomechanical engineering. All of it speaks quite a bit to her. Her alignment certainly is not within the mission objective. Ending a rebellion is hypocritical, is it not? Finishing off a rebellion-- It makes her sick. Even with her own spine running on wires and mechanical bones, even with that, she can much easier see the side of the so-called terrorist group than the one she is supposed to fight for. She is even less comfortable now.

She holds her hands over her ears throughout the whole trip. Does not spare a glance to either of the other two. Ends up snapping, ] Can you shut up? [ To the pilot. Get out, get out. ]

( STEEB. ) KNOTS AND LASHINGS LIKE FLESH AND BONE.

[ Generally speaking, all the mambo jambo about astrology and physic capacities has always made Parker roll her eyes, ever the cynic. Well, that and there were enough superheroes in her world that actually had those abilities, so she would rather not give into babbling of magical stars, or whatever. If you would ask her Zodiac sign, she would probably only give you a flat stare and not even dignify with an answer (every time she did, they would go with "Oh! Pisces!" like she was interested).

So the only reason she is there is the fact that she is trying to gather more information on the HH1. If there are sympathies for them, then here should be a place to look, at least at first. Something about the most basic and evident clue should at least be your starting point. Sometimes it is all that it takes. She blends well with the crowd. A skill cultivated over years of working for the Resistance. Doesn't stop for too long, keeps her presence small, but has an eye and an ear out for anything that calls out her attention. Walks by a stand full of brightly coloured spirit catchers, or the very least something that looks like it, and glances over to the next. Crosses look with someone else, nothing special - or it wouldn't be if it wasn't for the sudden explosion in her head. Like she had been feeling around those people on the station. A voice, a pull, a tug, a flare in her spirit and nothing belongs to her and everything does. She grits her teeth, hand over her ear, and turns on her heels to move away from the man rather than want to investigate.

She wants to say nothing to these people at all. Her mind is only (trying to) focus on the mission. Get over with it. Clinical, cold, sharp. No attachment to it (liar). ]

( FOUR. ) LIKE A STRONGHOLD OF ANOTHER TIME I LET GO.

[ She rejects it again, that pulse of familiarity, of comfort, of belonging (missed to feel like that, but she can't, won't). Then she's off to-- probably put her head in a bucket of ice because this is a little too much to take in twenty-four hours.

So what she does is take on Concordia. Pushing herself away from the throbbing nerve that comes from an alien place within, Parker leaves the building into this unfamiliar place. At least that makes sense, the feeling of eerie alien, the feeling of not belonging (that is a much more familiar feeling, after all, not an artificial notion hammered into her head). Obviously, the first place she heads off to is to Subspace. The slums. That does have a ring that is not far from what she was used to back home. That is a familiarity she accepts as well.

She keeps discreet. Hood fallen over her eyes and face. Climbs up on rooftops easily, to scout the area from a vantage point of view. Still, and quiet. Easy to navigate in an obstacle-ridden place, tight, and poor. That is fine by her.

She feels it then, the same pulse she tries to reject. Looks over her shoulder, unkind glare, to whoever is doing that. Eyebrows curling angry lines on her forehead. She hisses, commanding tone. ]

Stop that.

( X. ) WILDCARD

I thirst for your tag even if no prompt here fit you. Give me one that does.

CLOSED TO STUB & BORKY;

[frakkincylons]

[ The first night Steve doesn't come home, Sam feels it. Something missing, outside of Jessica, and perhaps that's what makes it all the more prominent. All the more worrying. After a while of stretching out his mind, seeking through the symbiote for the distinct pull of Steve's consciousness to his, he knows he's still in the city. Still active, not seeming to be in immediate danger.

And yet, he can't simply leave it like that. The next morning, Sam heads out, following the pull of the Brood towards his little brother (and it is that notion - little brother - that Sam feels as he goes looking for him).

What he finds is... odd, to say the least. It's no surprise he's with Barnes (those memories of a face that lingers in his, though so distantly, had surfaced in Sam's mind, towards the end of his talk with Barnes), and even them hiding out from Bearings isn't totally shocking, considering how much of a strain it was on Bucky. But this little hole in the wall hovel?

Lifting up a hand, Sam presses at the door, though doesn't knock or try pushing it open. Just feels it, like that'll tell him what's on the other side. He can already feel them - Steve through the brood bond, and Bucky just because he bleeds so much of his consciousness at this point still. Instead, he reaches out with his mind. ]

( Steve? You in there? ) [ he knows he is, really. maybe it's more wanting to see if he's open to responding. ] ( Can I come in? )

borkorovnic

[bracchium]

[Bucky hasn't had much luck in calming himself since the nightmare in the early morning; the presence of another rings too loud in his ears to ignore. He doesn't care who it might be on the other side of the door; he needs to keep Steve safe from threats, even if it's himself. Bucky makes it to the door first by instinct alone and presses it open just far enough to spy the invader on the other side.

It takes a few moments, but he recognizes the not-quite-stranger and sighs before opening the door further.

The silence is maybe a touch oppressive as Bucky glares down Sam; despite their friendly interactions, Bucky is fresh off another nightmare of death and isn't about to take any chances.]

Sam Alexander | ota

[headinjuries]

:010, midday, the Bearings
[ He spends the entire ride down to Concordia fidgeting in his seat, and the entire ride on the bullet train to get to the Bearings trying not to fidget, because now he's supposed to blend in and it's not like he's completely unfamiliar with how cloak and dagger stuff goes, even if it's not really his thing.

Sam's thing is being loud and obvious and moving too fast to keep up with, and his thoughts are definitely doing that even if he's trying to keep his chill on the surface.

It's hard not to think about his little sister crying for him in the middle of the night and telling him about her dreams. You were Nova and you left and didn't come back.

And he'd told her that wouldn't happen, and promised her he'd be back, and now...

Now here he is, standing in the doorway of an apartment complex in the middle of who even knew where, as good as dead to the life he came from. Kaelynn and his mother will never know what the hell just happened, or that he's still out there somewhere and okay (maybe). Just that he'd left for space and never come back, just like his father.

This is the last place he wants to be, despite the weird feeling that he should be here.

Here, staring at whoever happens to be in the common area when he arrives on the eighteenth floor.

Standing in the door saying nothing like an idiot. ]

Um.

[ Yeah, that's clearly exactly what he needs to say to dispel any notions about the idiot thing. ]

Hi.



:010, late afternoon, Platform Twelve
[ Concordia, Sam's decided, is pretty lacking in good places to be alone.

He's from a small town in a state with a low population density. He's not used to having to go far to catch his breath when he needs to be away from people. There's plenty of empty space in reach on the ground, and since becoming Nova, there's a vast expanse of literal space waiting for him right out of orbit.

Blasting off to think it over in vacuum is probably the opposite of blending in, tempting as it is.

Platform Twelve is busy, but it's the kind of crowd it's easy to get lost in, and it's full of minds that are a comfortable distance away, with none of the closeness that's throwing him off at the Bearings. It's about the best he's likely to get, for now.

He'll take it.

So he spends a few hours out there, aimlessly eyeing the displays and considering the irony that he's got a credit card and the freedom to use it for whatever he wants within reason, but the only thing he really wants is to use it to fix a lot of problems back home.

Although he's going to miss his skateboard.

Hey, this is futureland, won't they probably have hoverboards?

He's not paying a lot of attention to where he's going, doing as great a job of distracting himself as he is. So there's a good chance he'll stumble straight into whoever's close by. ]

Ow - crud, sorry, didn't see you -



wild card?
( If these don't work for you, I'm happy to work out something that does. Or just throw me something and I'll roll with the punches, whatever works. )

the Bearings

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ The sound of the elevator coming up registers dimly, but it's not until he feels the pull of a new Host that Sam looks up, blinking a little to adjust from using the interface they'd been given to do some research on Humans 1st. There's a quiet feeling of something settling right in, as Sam suddenly feels a little less of the emptiness that'd been at the edge of his mind since he woke up on Station 72.

It's the same feeling he gets around Barnes and Parker - looks like the Bellatrix brood has another member.

There's a jumble of thoughts and emotions racing around the kid, regret and a lack of desire to be here among a ton of other things he can't keep up with, and yeah, he can emphasize with that.

He's just about to make a joke about taking it all in when the kid refocuses and seems to realize that he's just standing and staring. He grins in amusement, though there's an undercurrent of understanding that he doesn't bother trying to hold back. He's gotten decent at it with non-broodmates, but he already knows that there's a stronger sense of connection with others of the Bellatrix brood, and neither of the ones here already have been all that keen on letting him practice. ]

Hey. How long did you get on the station, huh? We got about a day before they dropped us in.