onemind: (Default)
THE N E S T ([personal profile] onemind) wrote in [community profile] station722016-05-16 10:16 pm

[MISSION LOG] BRAVE NEW WORLD

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.))




sizeofyourbaggage: (what're you thinking now)

[personal profile] sizeofyourbaggage 2016-05-25 04:05 am (UTC)(link)
[Sam isn't actually a complete asshole, and it doesn't take a mindmeld or whatever this is to realize that Bucky's reacting pretty badly to it - obviously, Sam himself isn't exactly thrilled with it, and he doesn't have Bucky's history of people messing around in his head without his permission.]

I'd cut it off if I knew how.

[But he doesn't, and he also doesn't want to get more caught up in Bucky's head, so he's gonna push aside the brief flicker of guilt and focus on what he can do.

It's hard to count out loud and do the breathing all at once, but this is far from the first time Sam's coached someone through this. It's been a few years now since Sam was full time at the VA, but you don't forget how to get a vet to focus on their breathing when there's a good chance they might actually punch you if you can't.

He can't quite manage to keep up his own seven-eleven breathing, but he can keep it nice and deep as he counts out loud, his voice steady with just enough variation in volume and pressure that it doesn't become monotone, that it keeps being something worth focusing on instead of background noise.]
bracchium: (y)

[personal profile] bracchium 2016-05-25 10:52 am (UTC)(link)
[Something in Bucky knows Sam would stop if he could, but he doesn't know where that sentiment came from either. Everything about this is too intimate for Bucky's comfort. Bucky's trying to pull back mentally but it's like trying to hold onto water and the noise in his head refuses to be muffled.

Sam's voice rises above the dyn, a lighthouse in the dark, and Bucky sets his mind to focus on that instead. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven--- Bucky breathes out on the silent eight to keep from syncing with Sam. Breathe in. Slower now, always a count after Sam, and it's not long until the turbulence in his head is stilling to a tolerable level, choppy waters instead of a hurricane.

He doesn't say thank you, but he is grateful.
] You... used to work with veterans.

[That much is bleeding through unbidden, but maybe it's not such a bad thing in this case.]
sizeofyourbaggage: (what're we gonna do)

[personal profile] sizeofyourbaggage 2016-05-26 03:44 am (UTC)(link)
[At least like this, Sam doesn't have to guess if it's working or not; he can feel things evening out, just a little. If he's gotta pick something about this to be optimistic about, he'll go with that.]

Yeah. Worked at the VA for a few years, after I retired. Before I added a little color to my wings and picked 'em back up to get my superhero on.

[And even after, he'd kept in touch and tried to drop by whenever he could - though he guesses they've probably stripped him of his rank by now after the shit with the Accords, and even if most of the vets he worked with might still support him, he doubts he'd be welcome at the VA. Not that it matters, considering he's stuck up here on this space station with no plans to go back any time soon.

As soon as he realizes his thoughts have turned rueful he cuts them off, before they can gain traction and start bleeding too much all over Barnes. Instead, he quirks a little wry smile.]


You know, when I first started looking for you, I figured that the VA owed you about seventy years of backdated support.
bracchium: (p)

[personal profile] bracchium 2016-05-26 01:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[Bucky doesn't exactly know what a VA is, but if Sam's reply indicates anything, it has to do with veterans. Over the link floods something that tastes a little like regret. Or maybe not regret but pain. Consequences. Steve had mentioned consequences and Bucky's already starting to see what reward follows helping him. Sam's wings were clipped and him caged. Bucky swallows. He's not worth losing all that, especially not to someone who is practically a stranger. And Sam's still willing to help, that much Bucky can sense as well.

Shaking his head, Bucky turns away from Sam. Guilt eats into him like acid and he bites the inside of his lip.
]

You don't owe me anything. [If his voice could get more graveled, it has. But the point remains that if anyone owes anyone something, it's Bucky owing Sam.]
sizeofyourbaggage: (all right good point)

[personal profile] sizeofyourbaggage 2016-05-27 04:30 am (UTC)(link)
[Well now there's a familiar emotion. Sam would wonder if it was his, given what he'd stopped himself from thinking about, but there's way too much guilt there for that. As unhappy as he is with the way things ended up, he doesn't regret very many of the decisions he made that lead to them.

His brows raise when Barnes turns from him, and then he jerks his head in a nod, making a 'tch' sound between his teeth.]


You're damn right I don't.

[There's no hostility behind his comment, though, blunt as it is. Just a firm agreement, and he follows it up by shaking his head.]

It's not about either of us owing each other anything, man, that's not why I'm still here.
bracchium: (m)

[personal profile] bracchium 2016-05-28 08:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[Bucky almost smirks--- a self-loathing thing--- as the guilt coursing through him rises to high tide. All he's done since his escape from HYDRA is create more trouble. He thought accepting the hand in Siberia would protect them, protect Steve, but Sam is here, which makes Bucky wonder if Steve might also be present. They've all been roped into this danger same as before; nothing ever really changes.

The second half of Sam's response doesn't earn much of a response from Bucky. Instead, he focuses on the dim reflection of himself in the glass. He looks like hell itself, hair covering most of his features, arm missing, and bloodied clothing make up the walking disaster that is Bucky Barnes.

He doesn't know why Sam's still here, why he's still helping when everything should be much the opposite.
]
sizeofyourbaggage: (it's my resume)

[personal profile] sizeofyourbaggage 2016-06-05 04:52 am (UTC)(link)
[Sam can't help but make a face as he gets hit with wave after wave of guilt and self-loathing, shifting his weight unhappily. It's not that he didn't think it was there, underneath the surface of murderous looks and barely there smirks and potshots about not doing things sooner enough - it's just that he didn't think he'd get to see much of it for a while, and he sure as hell didn't plan on feeling it.

He also didn't plan on aliens giving them a mental link that he has no control over, either.

So he lets out a breath, long and slow, and shakes his head again.]


Okay, I guess we're gonna do this. Why is a three part answer, man, so here we go. One, everyone should have more than one person in their corner, whether or not they think they need or deserve it. Two, you're a soldier. So am I. I've helped other soldiers for a hell of a lot longer than I've been a superhero. Three... [He pauses to shrug a little.] I know a little bit of what it's like to look in the mirror and see both a guy you don't wanna be and the ghost of a guy you can't really be again, without any damn idea how you're supposed to get through all of that to make yourself someone again.

[There's a fourth reason, something along the lines of Steve isn't the only one who watched his best friend fall to his death, only mine didn't come back, but he doesn't say it out loud. He can't stop himself from feeling it, though.]
bracchium: (ab)

[personal profile] bracchium 2016-06-11 01:33 am (UTC)(link)
[His mind is resonating, buzzing in his bone cage relentlessly as each echo grows louder and louder. It's like standing between two jet engines, while also being one of the jet engines. Bucky's focus drifts in and out as he struggles, but as Sam speaks, he anchors himself to the external words rather than the internal vibration.

Three reasons are enough to attempt to take in, but the unspoken fourth tumbles through the link and Bucky sucks in a breath. He remembers pieces of the fall, his body screaming at him dead dead dead. How his left arm slowed him just enough to survive, how his blood froze in the snow while his lungs heaved against broken ribs for a breath he couldn't draw.

Bucky can't stop it any more than he can stop his heart from beating. It's a front-row seat to something he never expected to share with anyone, least of all Sam.
]
sizeofyourbaggage: (run that by me again)

[personal profile] sizeofyourbaggage 2016-06-28 04:20 am (UTC)(link)
[It's not like Sam didn't know that Barnes had fallen off a train and into the snow where he should've died, lost an arm in the process. Hell, it's not even like he didn't spend a decent amount of time thinking about it, comparing it to Riley, wondering what it had been like. It's just that knowing it and thinking about it are very, very different from feeling it, from the weightless fall and pain in his arm, bitter cold and labored breathing, and goddamn that's a hell of a front row seat.

If he'd expected anything, it probably would have been Riley - for so long if he was going to get caught up in anything related to falling it meant him - but it isn't. It's the time the wind rushing past him evoked the distress of falling instead of the adrenaline of flying, his left wing getting ripped off with a snap that echoed in his ears like it was physical pain, the certainty that he'd failed, again. Sam yanks himself out of it before they can get too twisted together, too caught up in each other - but his breathing is ragged and heavy, and his grip on the station wall borders on painful as he focus on the feel of the metal.

There's a flash of guilt, for accidentally getting a glimpse - more than a glimpse - of something that should have been private until Barnes wanted to share it, before Sam does his best to cut himself off.]


Shit.