[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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( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

iii

[inflori]

[ It is the first of many bad signs that the moment picks up those memories, he's drawn to their source. They're close to what feels familiar, from cities falling apart to people screaming because everything they knew is falling apart. Petre would never be their savior, though, though he might as well think of himself that way. He brought the chaos, he brought the destruction, but with it he also brought the belief that his victims were being liberated from tyrannical gods. (the Devil was no different, but She was his boss.)

He doesn't look like much more than just a kid when he first approaches, hands by his sides, dressed up to the norm of the city. Petre wears the perfect disguise for a demon, really - a scrawny teenager with mousy hair and light blue eyes, eyeing Clint curiously with every step he takes toward him. ]

Who are you?

[ He's a new guy, no doubt. And if Petre can see what he's thinking, that means he came from the Nest. ]

[cognitived]

[ Clint never thought of himself as a savior either, really. Maybe from the shadows, taking out threats from up on high, silent, unknown kills that kept the world turning. Until he joined a superhero team. Until SHIELD turned out to be HYDRA, and Clint got used to the fact that some of his missions might not have been what he'd thought.

Still, that was years ago, and right now he's on the edges of a rally with his mind stitched haphazardly together. Petre doesn't escape notice, but he really does just look like any other kid out there. Thin faced and mousy, he probably wouldn't have pinged Clint's awareness. But he does, somehow -- and maybe it's the hive, pointing them out with little sparking threads.

Clint's gaze flicks over, head tilted, brow furrowed briefly. ]

Barton. [ Easily, though he shifts to better face this newcomer. Jokes, because that's easy too, a fallback if anything. ] Guessing you're part of the welcoming committee?

[inflori]

No.

[ He may be taking things a bit too literally, or. Trying to be ironic in his own, stupid manner. It's anyone's guess, really. ]

I'm Petre. I'm like you.

[ Which is a very, very generous statement to make, since the only thing they have in common is that they're both here on a mission for the same people. And the whole nest thing, sure. That counts. ]

You're new, then? Like - you were in a coma and just woke up, right?

[cognitived]

[ Kid ur killing his groove. Well, okay not literally. Clint laughs, a soft little thing under his breath. ]

Yeah? [ And then Petre keeps on talking and -- well, yeah that is true. Clint shifts, hands slipping into pockets, leaning back against his wall of choice. Comfortable, even though the blue of his gaze intent upon Petre. He'd planned to find information, didn't matter what sort. ]

Yup, got it in one. Did the--[ a small gesture towards his temple ]--tell you or?

[inflori]

Yeah, sort of.

[ The lopsided smirk is almost part of his conversational demeanor, acting remotely nice about it because they don't know each other well enough for Clint to realize he's just an asshole. But who knows, he must just smile even wider once he does. ]

I saw what was in your head. Just a little while ago.

[cognitived]

[ Clint's no stranger to jerks, honestly. A decent amount of SHIELD was staffed by them it seemed -- which really explains HYDRA. But this is something else. This is his burgeoning amused expression closing off, body gone tense like a wire though he's still playing at relaxed.

His mind sparks with static, not panic, not really. But unease that builds and broils beneath the surface, blueblueblue, the gossamer threads around his mind clinging closer. Should Petre skim, most of what he'd get was a strange desire for an arrow. ]

Thanks for the warning.

[ Wry, so very carefully wry. ]

[inflori]

[ -1 friend ]

[ The tension makes Petre's arms a little stiff, but there's hardly enough of it to make him act. Instead he just continues to watch Clint, knowing fully well that he's new therefore Petre has the right to feel like he's got the upper hand. He's got a bit of a hang on these mind tricks they can pull with each other. He just hopes Clint isn't a faster learner than he is. ]

I don't mind it. The stuff you were thinking about. A lot of them are stupid sensitive about it, though.