[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.))

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Comments

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?

i

[bracchium]

[Calm. That's what Bucky's brain is telling him first. Calm, quiet, belonging. It's almost pleasant at first, a gentle awakening like a warm summer day. Opening his eyes, though, reveals that this is quite the opposite. Pulling the thing out of his head only brings more pain and there's suddenly so much noise in his head, mixing with the heavy- but familiar- static. This is wrong, this is wrong his instincts scream, but that soothing presence returns to curl around him and tell him everything is okay. Except it's not. It's so far from okay. It's not until he escapes from his pod that he remembers something oh so crucial. He staggers to one knee, off-balance and woozy and-- oh god where is his arm.

It's gone. It's gone and there's something else missing with it. He doesn't know what, but his panic ticks up step after step until he comes across his clothes. He dismisses the white uniform almost immediately, electing to instead pull on his singed and bloodied clothes. They smell like death, but that is at least familiar. Zippers catch where they're not supposed to and once he's pulled his hair out of the metal teeth on his vest, he resigns himself to leaving it open.

He's just found the nearest mirror to inspect his missing arm when a familiar face appears.

Bucky blinks, so intensely uncomfortable with how loud his head feels, how it feels like he's blasting into a megaphone though his mouth is shut. Blips of the airport, of crunched knees in a backseat, and shattered glass spring up in the forefront, illuminating Sam.

Sam, right? Sam's his name? And he doesn't sound excited, though to be honest Bucky wouldn't be excited to see himself.

His shoulders go rigid, back straight, and he presses his mouth into a thin line. Well this is going to be fun.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[Yeah, not excited is a pretty good word for it. Though honestly it's not like he's unhappy at seeing Barnes, either; the overall feeling he's got right now is closer to resigned.]

Spent two years looking for your ass without a trace, and now you're following me out into weird as shit space stations?

[Technically it's just as likely that Sam is the one following him here, since he can't be sure when Barnes arrived, but that doesn't matter. He's already decided.

But it's not like he hates the guy, not really. If he did, he wouldn't have spent said two years hunting for him, or helped Steve find him before someone with a hell of a lot worse intentions did. As far as being grateful for a familiar face goes, Barnes isn't exactly high on the list, but he ain't low on it, either.

Even if being around him really isn't doing a hell of a lot for Sam's mental state, because he's pretty sure his head feels even more like a mess now than it did before he found the guy.]

Aren't you supposed to be playing Sleeping Beauty right about now?

[bracchium]

[Not excited bridges into confusion at Sam's reply and the additional input coming through his head. Can this get more uncomfortable right now? He's got his own brain buzzing and flashing with runrunrun, but now some of Sam's ambivalence too. If it's coming from Sam. Jury might be out on that.]

No. [His voice is heavy, unused, and what the hell is that supposed to mean? Sleeping Beauty is the last thing he should be doing right now. If it's a joke, Bucky's not laughing. (Not that he really does that anymore anyways.)

But he at least tries his own question out,] What the hell are you doing here?

[Because last he knew, Sam was probably going to be facing some Consequences, Captial C, but nothing like this.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[Sam's eyebrows shoot up when Barnes tells him no. It's not surprising that Barnes isn't laughing at his wise cracks - not that it stops Sam from making them, and maybe one day he'll get a smile - but he assumes that means Barnes reconsidered his decision to go back on ice for the time being. Or maybe not: maybe Barnes didn't understand the reference, maybe whatever extended its hand to Barnes did it while he was frozen.

Sam's definitely curious now, but he's not sure the middle of the hall in a space station is a good place to go into that. Then again, given the fact that he's pretty sure the extra shit he's got going on in his head right now is coming from Barnes, maybe the other guy's already picking up on that.

At Barne's question, he gives a one-shouldered shrug.]

Continuing my trend of making extremely risky life choices. We were in trouble, someone up here gave me an out, and I took it. Haven't decided if I regret it yet.

[He says that, but there's no hint of any feelings of regret. As long as his team is safe and Wakanda's not about to be destroyed, he won't regret it. Although last he checked, that first one included Barnes, so he's not sure what to make of him being here.]

Something similar happen to you?

Bearings!

[frakkincylons]

[ for a good part of this mission, Sam's been glued to the couch in the commons area of the dorm type apartment level, which, really, feels freaking weird to him. after making a career out of professional sports, then being a freedom fighter twice, then ending up a military starfighter pilot, sitting on his ass just feels way, way too lazy.

and yet, knowing what he is now, and given the power the symbiote has kicked into gear for him, this is where he's most needed. besides, he was a guerrilla fighter, not an undercover agent. so here he is, in front of a few huge computer monitors (that are more holographic than anything else (gotta love the hypertech future)), probably with a young girl passed out on the couch next to him, and way too many instant noodle cups scattered around. Angel's, not his. he at least knows to eat better. And get normal sleep.

so, given his prime real estate in the middle of the damn place, he spots Sam (the new Sam) make his way in, lifting a brow at his back as he checks out some of the rooms. There's that familiar pull of nest bond, but not brood (still the empty feeling left from Jessica). he must have been a new hatch. confirmed enough when he spots Sam (old Sam) on the couch, and strikes up a chat. ]

More on the side of 'fashionably'. Should've played coma for a while and slept in, man. [ a joke. comas suck. been there, done that. he carefully picks himself up from the couch, detangling himself from wires and probably Angels stray feet, trying not to jostle her, before moving to hold out a hand to the new guy. ] Hey. I'm Sam Anders, Castor brood. How long've you been up?

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ He doesn't feel the same pull towards this guy that he does with Barnes - closer to when he's around Clint, which sets him a little more at ease. It's not like Sam's not used to giving up pieces of himself to near strangers, but at least then he was usually in control of what he was sharing.

Still, he grins a little when the guy returns his joking, and it widens when he introduces himself. He reaches out to clasp Castor-brood-Sam's hand, grip firm and friendly, as he shakes his head a little. ]

Sam Wilson, Bellatrix brood. New day, new way to ID myself, huh? [ A hell of a lot different from Sam Wilson, 58th rescue squadron, or tech sergeant, or even Falcon. He guesses he'll get used to it, even if he's not sure that he really wants to at the moment. ] Just woke up yesterday. Not that I'm complaining about getting pushed off into the deep end.

[frakkincylons]

[ before coming here, Sam had already gone through several too many role swaps and sudden backflips in identity to be too, too disturbed by this one. though, it was definitely up there. still not beat by going from Sam Anders the Human to Sam Anders the Cylon. but up there. ]

Yeaaah, it's a trip. Just gotta roll with the punches. You'll get it. [ the nice thing about the Nest is that it is so welcoming by nature, even if that much welcoming feels strange and invasive to most people. at least you aren't in it along. A short laugh leaves him, hearing part of his name repeated back, and Sam waves a hand, for the new guy to follow him, as he heads towards the little kitchen section of the apartments. ] Call me Anders, if it feels less weird for you.

[ He'll let new-Sam keep the first name, most of the pilots and engineers he'd worked with before on Galactica called him Anders anyway. And it'll give Kylo Ren a reason to ditch 'Samuel'. ]

It's good you're on your feet so quick - though, you've got a right to be chafed about it. If you wanted to. [ no one would slight him for feeling a little bummed about pretty much all of this. well, maybe some would, because a lot of people here are jackasses. but they'd be wrong to. Anyway, he pops the scifi fridge open in the kitchenette, digging around a moment. ] Beer? Or... alien beer equivalent?

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ This is pretty much at the top for Sam - becoming a superhero had been a little bit of an adjustment, yeah, but anything that let Sam use his wings was always going to feel more right than going without them.

There's a chuckle as Sam follows after him towards the kitchen. Honestly, he still doesn't know what to make of all of this, but at least the guy seems friendly. He can work with this. ]

Anders'll make less confusion, anyway. You're welcome to Wilson if it's easier, I got used to it in the military.

[ For a moment, he thinks about adding a joke that Anders could boost his ego and just call him Falcon all the time, but decides against it. It'll fall a little too flat if he has to follow it up with an explanation, and he's got no idea if anyone here has even heard of the Avengers.

He leans one hip up against the counter, giving a one shouldered shrug. ]

Jury's out, man, I'm gonna wait to exercise my right until I find out what we're dealing with. But hell yeah, I'll take that beer.

iii

[adamance]

[He's new.

Of course, she had sensed the new arrivals the same way they all did, like someone else entering a room and closing the door behind them to trot around. New arrivals are always more emotional, even if she barely has a handle on her own. Then again, it helps that she's not incredibly emotional herself: she has practice suppressing what others might immediately sense.

Still, there's a difference between sensing that someone else has taken up residence nearby and the outright recognition of someone there.

Lexa observes him quietly for a beat longer than she has to, and finally looks toward the door.]

Did they offer you credits? We can find food, and you can purchase a pair of gloves for me. [Whether he goes along with this is yet to be seen, as she doesn't actually require a bribe. Lexa wishes to have a sense of who will be connected to her mind for the foreseeable future, and she just generally likes to have a sense of those around her. This comes from a deep-seated place of distrust fostered by growing up in a world focused on survival.

But he offered, so she is curious about how he will take her quick response.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[He raises his eyebrows a little as she watches him, unruffled by her gaze. It's far from the first time he's had someone sizing him up, and she's welcome to form whatever opinion she wants from it.

Of course, usually in the past it isn't with someone who hums faintly in his mind, and who can probably read the emotions he's still getting a handle on holding in. Sam hasn't had this much practice with his emotion regulation skills in years.

His grin returns at her answer, accompanied by a flash of amusement.]

You really wanting those gloves, or you just try to have an answer ready in case someone offers to buy something for you? Yeah, all right, since I offered, gloves it is. You got a place in mind?

[adamance]

[Lexa chooses not to answer his questions. No, she hadn't had something in mind, but she knew precisely what she had failed to purchase on her previous excursion and needed to rectify that. Since he's willing to follow through on his bribe, he's at least honorable.

Of course, she hadn't expected him to, but there's a small sense of amusement that fills her in him going along with it. Again, it seems honorable that he might, even if she's not unfamiliar with the idea of half-serious bribes.

(She's just way, way more careful with her words.)]

Platform Twelve is the shopping district. We should find what we need there. [She motions for him to go ahead of her with a nod of her head.]

And before we leave, I'm Lexa.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[He watches her for a moment when she doesn't answer the questions, considering, but doesn't push it. Not much for idle conversation, maybe, but that doesn't bother him. He can adjust, either talk less or more - he'll figure out which one as he goes.]

Platform Twelve it is. [Sam nods in return, starting off like he knows where he's going. He doesn't, but he's assuming she does, and if not there's always the travel guide helpfully uploaded to his databank.]

Sam Wilson. But I know I'm not the first Sam around here; Wilson's fine if it's easier.

i. hey boo

[cognitived]

[ This isn't like Loki, fingers in his brain, loyalty overwritten and carved deep into his very marrow. Sometimes, Clint thinks Loki's never left, despite Natasha's best efforts. But its been years since he's felt this unmoored. His mind is a whirlwind, a lash of anxiety and confusion and guilt, steely determination undercutting it all.

Clint can feel them -- distant, echoing, like knuckles rapping at doors, the splash of his unbound emotions lapping at the shore. Curiousity from some, a sort of knowing from all. But dim at best. There are two others though, bright like supernovas, the dying light of a star guiding him in -- ice/pain/allof--/heat/battle/so that they may live/yes -- and Clint shies away. The pain from whatever he'd ripped from his skull has faded, but this place is enough of a pain in and of itself.

Maybe a bit more mapping will help with that? So Clint explores as he's told to, shifting the quiver on his back and scouting ahead like he's used to. It's somewhat calming, easing him down slowly, right up until he turns the corner and spots Sam there. ]

Well, shit. [ Clint agrees, shrugging and forgetting for a moment that he's not quite healed. Thin lines of pain tense at the corners of his mouth, blue eyes dark. ] Guess they wanted a complete set of birds, huh?

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ There's a swirl of emotions, relief and regret the strongest among them, tinged with a flare of amusement as Sam smirks a little at Clint's comment. ]

Can't fault 'em for knowing who the best Avengers are. [ Technically he guesses they're not Avengers any more, not really, and Clint was retired even before they became fugitives, but that's not the point. He doesn't have to go there if he keeps his tone light, expression teasing. ] Feels a little like cheating, offering both of us a deal to save the team.

[ Or at least he's assuming that Clint did it to protect them. He knows what Clint's been willing to sacrifice for the team, for his friends, to repay a debt and do what he thought was right. Little thing like signing on for dangerous missions in space, that's nothing.

Same as Sam, really. But more important right now is the way Clint holds himself, just a little bit tense and careful, and the faint echo of pain that Sam can feel. ]

Where you injured, man, let me take a look. If we're gonna be wandering around here we should be in top shape.

[cognitived]

[ It's overwhelming, caught up in a swirl of emotion that belongs to both of them all at once. There's a low kick of anxiety, still lingering there beneath his breath, lurking in his blood. But the amusement flares and it's easier, grounding in a way.

Clint's always been one to hide behind humor, it's familiar now. ]

What, you expected fair and square?

[ His brows lift, amusement in the blue of his gaze. Maybe he's a bit off his game though, because Clint can't quite hide.

He should have known better. Even without this, this -- this thing curling between them like filigree, Sam would have known. So Clint's mouth curves with a wry smile, barely there, and he shifts, pulls the zipper of his outer shirt, rucks up the thinner fabric of his ruined under shirt. There's a clotted gash, starting high enough to touch ribs and down over his stomach, ending beneath his navel.

It's ugly, and it was clearly bad, before. It's still bad now, even though the wound has scabbed over, and the pinked edges show an increased healing. He shrugs, a tiny little thing, unconcerned. ]

Don't think there's much you can do, man. [ Easy, casually, it's just another near-death. Even if it really would have been a death back in Wakanda. Probably. ] How 'bout you? Saw you take a couple bad hits back there.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ It's hard not to react to that spike of anxiety, not to try to soothe it away somehow. He doesn't even comment on it, out of respect for Clint. Sam likes to think that he would have noticed it even without this thing between them, seeing as they'd gotten pretty good at reading each other back on the Raft, but he's not sure enough to risk it. He doesn't want to pick up on anything that Clint isn't willing to give him, and it's easy enough to sink into the humor instead. ]

Eternally hopeful, what can I say?

[ It's only mostly a joke. Sam'd seen too much even before the Accords, even before becoming an Avenger, even before Riley, to really expect anything like the world being fair and square - but there's still a part of him that'll always hope, that'll always work to change that.

And he sucks in a breath at the side of the gash on Clint's torso. It's healing, yeah, but goddamn it'd been just as bad as Sam feared, when he saw Clint fall back in Wakanda.

Easy, right, just another near-death. They both know otherwise. And it's because of that, that Sam doesn't even think about pretending his own hadn't been just as bad. Clint already knows otherwise, it ain't like there's a point in trying to lie. ]

I was choking on my own blood back there, but here? I can still taste it, but doesn't seem like I'm at risk of drowning in it any time soon. Looks like they kept that part of the deal. [ His tone is nice and casual, a match to Clint's, except the low level flare of irritation. Clint was supposed to be a part of that deal, but there's nothing Sam can do about that now. Instead he quirks a little smile. ] Tch, there's always something I can do. I got my kit, don't I?

[ He reaches out, gently resting fingertips on Clint's side, just under the gash - and as soon as he does, there's a surge of warmth and a flare of pain, and Sam watches in shock as the gash disappears from Clint's skin. ] ...the fuck?

i...ish

[polyphonos]

[Station 72 is large, sprawling even. It's a series of strange corridors, odd overlooks, ramp and stairs and unexpected turns into quiet narrow passages or hollow massive atriums. In one such large room, warmly lit as if by some mottled sunlight, is the woman from the Nesting Deck. She's standing in the company of a slight, definitely alien creature and while the two of them are saying nothing verbally there is the sensation of something dense in the air, the atmosphere heavy with some weight of thought or work being done.

The pressure of it lasts a moment and then relents. A bubble popping. Cathaway raises her attention from the drone and turns her eyes to Sam.]

Oh, hello again. Are you well?

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam's already figured out that not only is a day not gonna be enough time to get used to both the feeling of not being alone in his own head and having that emptiness, but he'd need way more than a day to even begin to map out the station itself.

But he's doing his best, and uncertainty about the situation aside, he has to admit it's impressive. After the Chitauri and Ultron and Vision and everything else that comes with being an Avenger, he's not necessarily surprised by much, but there's a part of him with an adventure streak a mile wide that's really intrigued right now.

He hesitates when he comes across the woman and the alien, debating swinging back another way - partly out of politeness, but honestly mostly to back away from the uncomfortable heaviness of the air - when it eases up, and Sam relaxes a touch. ]

Under the circumstances, yeah, I'm doing pretty damn good. Didn't mean to interrupt.

[ His words are genuine, but there's an obvious curiosity underlining them. ]

[polyphonos]

[She smiles; it's a fairly arbitrary expression, automatic in a sense. He's doing well. Of course he is.]

Think nothing of it. Our conversation is finished. [In fact she steps away from the drone without further pretense or any hesitation. The creature hardly seems bothered by the total lack of acknowledgement or dismissal; it happily putters along as Cathaway instead moves to close in on Sam. Her footsteps are marked by the faint jingling of the metallic charms hanging from her wrists and dripped along the fine chains wrapped at her forearms.

It's almost a pleasant sound.]

How do you find the Station so far?

III

[snippycup]

Huh?

[Ahsoka doesn't expect Sam to speak to her when she feels him approach from behind. Its a new mind, one she hasn't felt before, so its natural for her to pause and inspect. Her hood is up long before she reaches the door, so she has to turn to glance up and him once she is sure his intentions aren't malicious.

If the tall-spire of her horns under the hood hadn't given him a hint that she was trying and failing to be inconspicuous, the orange skin and white markings would probably do it. She fights the uncomfortable expression that wants to spring to her face, but it is ever-present between the symbiotic link.]

I mean--you're welcome to, of course but. You might have an easier time traveling with someone else.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[He can't help but grin just a little at her attempts to be inconspicuous. Someone even worse than him or Steve at trying to keep a low profile, and all it took was an alien trying not to stand out on a more or less humanoid planet.

After Vision, Sam's gotten used to being around people who don't look exactly human, but he doesn't need to pick up on what she's feeling to realize that it'd definitely make things more difficult trying to move around the city unnoticed.

Still, that's not a deterrent for Sam - her discomfort might be though, and he shrugs one shoulder with a little smile.]

Nah, the other options I've got around here would probably just end up getting me in more trouble. But I don't wanna make you uncomfortable, here, if you're looking to be alone I won't push it.

II

[erbier]

[ The girl stares back at him, the expression on her pretty face impenetrable. She doesn't understand most of what he just said to her, but her Sam spoke similarly, too quickly, too friendly, too many words. She takes it all in, letting the consensus fill in the modern pieces from the world she has not been to. ]

You are also from Earth?

[ This is not her answering any of his questions, this is her establishing how he fits in to her understanding of her fellow hosts. There was a selection who came from Earth, although not all the same time nor version of it. But that's neither here nor there, it is a node-piece which helps her wrap her thoughts around it. ]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam waits calmly while she stares at him, unruffled by the gaze she fixes on him. He's used to it, which has come in handy considering he still doesn't quite have a handle on keeping his emotions to himself. His eyebrows raise when she responds to his comment with a more or less unrelated question, but for the moment, he rolls with it. ]

Yeah, there's a handful of us around here. You're not?

[ He probably would have assumed she was, if not for the question, though really he should know better than that by now. At least he's not surprised by it. ]

[erbier]

[ She looks like anyone else at this point, especially after a day shopping in Concordia, but she is somewhat singular. Her world and her life very... particular. ]

No, I come from the Godking's world.

[ It had a name once, but that was before he burned it all to nothingness. Perhaps there were some older survivors who remembered, but it was immaterial to those who had been born into the remaining wastes. ]

Sometimes my brood teaches me about Earth, those who know it.

[With her Sam it was more in cultural remnants in the way he spoke and the values he held. Steve was the one who had lived there, who showed her snippets of Brooklyn and daydreams of Paris. ]