ARRIVAL LOG 002

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: July 4
WHAT: The second arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy. Further notes at end of log.

> ARRIVAL LOG #002

Awareness comes to you in blurred snatches, cloudy fragments of sound and light, color, sensation. Hazy and difficult to grasp on to, but slowly aligning into focus. A series of regular, rhythmic beeps. A medicinal, astringent smell. The sensation of movement, a low hum and accompanying vibration under you. A murmur of nearby conversation. Your eyes are heavy, hard to keep open, but in the glimpses between slow, dark blinks you see three people in black body armor seated opposite you, and next to them, a woman in dark gray scrubs. "They're coming to," one of the guards says, nodding his head towards you. The woman looks over at you, smiles gently. "Don't worry. We're almost there." You realize there are two others next to you. All of you in white scrubs, hair recently cut but at various stages of growth, restrained by straps across your chests, arms, feet, holding you to the bench under you. To your left, an armored interior door, two more people visible, the movement of streets passing through a windshield. You try to open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your tongue is coated in tar, and you manage nothing more than an empty parting of lips. The vehicle stops. The guard opposite you unbuckles your restraints, helping you to your feet, your limbs feeling wooden and heavy, slow to move. The back doors are opened, city sounds flooding it, daylight hurting your eyes, making them water. You aren't given any time to adjust, the guards carefully helping each of you out, the nurse looking each of you over, quickly and methodically. She gives a nod, and she and the guards climb back into the van, the doors closing behind them. The engine powers up again, and then they're gone. You're left alone in a city alley, with no idea of where you are or why you've been brought here. There is the hum of a crowd nearby, at the other end of the alley from where the van departed. Around the corner the narrow, relative quiet of the alley opens up into a large city square - filled with tarpaulin shelters, beds, and hundreds of people. ◉ Though entirely capable of independent action and thought, new characters will find themselves completely, unquestioningly compliant to any verbal statement which could be taken as a command or request.

> THE SHELTERS

You may be used enough to your neural implant interfaces by now to recognize an incoming message, but this one doesn't wait for you to access it. Flashing up demandingly to the left of your vision, the text spills rapidly, as if El's typing it as you watch: You're not going to believe this, but an unmarked van just stopped and dropped three more extremely confused looking people in white in the city. Right next to Overbough square. Someone should get over there, pick them up before they walk into the shelters and some concerned citizen calls the cops. Seriously. Overbough square is to the northwest of the city, surrounded by low-rise office buildings and a department store which closed its doors some months ago. It's now being used for emergency housing of those displaced from their homes by the attack on June 27. Based in the old department store, the building has been filled to capacity and the shelter has spilled out, filling the large square with beds and people. Tarp coverings have been erected to try and protect those beneath from the harsh sun, but do little to break the summer heat or the warmth of so many people grouped together. Attempts have been made to keep the space organized, but with the huge amount of people staying here, there seems little rhyme or reason. Movement and noise is a constant, with volunteers and emergency service workers carrying supplies, setting up new beds or coverings where possible. There are families looking for beds, people looking for lost friends or relatives, officials calling names over megaphones, and kids running haphazard through the mill, playing tag, shouting out to one another. An overwhelming space for someone new to this world. A difficult space to navigate for those trying to spot three specific individuals - even with the distinct white scrubs and shorn hair. Better work quick, as with this many officials already working in the area, it's only a matter of time before even this crowd can no longer disguise the unusual new arrivals.

> THE SAFEHOUSE

Access to the safehouse is a hatch hidden behind stacks of empty storage shelves in the back of an abandoned supermarket in an outer district of the city. The immediate area is similarly abandoned, empty stores, flanked by several blocks of dive bars and clubs which cater to more niche tastes. A place where people can come and go unseen, or, if seen, not spoken of. A dark haired woman called Gaby is ready to greet the new arrivals and get them settled in, brusque and no-nonsense. ◉ The safe house is a large open space, filled with rows of basic cots set up to sleep a large amount of people. Basic, but outfitted with everything necessary for daily life. A few doors lead to back rooms for storage, medical care and a large communal bathroom, and past the long rows of cots there is a communal kitchen, fully stocked, and an eating area. Privacy is at a minimum. ◉ New characters will be asked to pick their beds, and provided with a change of (second-hand, mismatched and somewhat threadbare) clothes and basic toiletries. ◉ There are 23 NPC occupants of the safehouse, natives to New Amsterdam. Some are individuals, but there are several families with children of various ages. They've adjusted to sharing the safehouse with these strange outsiders, but are still somewhat cautious of answering too many questions about themselves or their situations. ◉ Morningstar agents visit the native occupants regularly, but keep their contact with player characters to a minimum. It's made clear that should they have any queries or requests, they should speak to Gaby or El. ◉ The drugs making new characters compliant will remain in their systems for a few hours after their arrival at the safehouse before finally beginning to fade. They will be gone entirely after a night's rest. In the meantime, they may want to be careful of what others say to them. ◉ New characters will be given rudimentary access to the network on arrival in the safehouse, but will not have their ID set up yet. They will be able to make posts and replies, but their messages will be anonymous and they do not have inboxes yet. ◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until July 7. These 4 days are for them to adjust, learn about the world they've arrived in from their fellows, and for El to speak with them and work on setting up their IDs.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to Meadowlark, newbies! You're now free to post to the network and logs comms. To reiterate, your characters will have no IDs or inboxes, nor be allowed out of the safehouse until July 4 (September 13). At that point it's expected they'll have gotten a good idea of their new situation from their fellow characters, and will have discussed their background and job potentials with El in order for their false IDs to be set up. If you have any questions or ideas about how you'd like to get your character involved in the world, or if they'd like to join Morningstar, please head over to the plot engagement post and drop us a comment! For questions specific to this log, there is a thread below. Please check out our September calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month. As a reminder, AC for new characters will be 10 comments across 2-4 threads, while current characters will need to provide the full AC of 20 comments across 2-4 threads. AC will be posted on September 20 and close on September 27. If you do not reply to AC, you will be considered idled and dropped from the game. We will not post a warning list.

> NAVIGATION

Comments

[selfimage]

[ if anything, Loki is confident enough to make this getaway smooth. he's usually stealing things and not people, but he'll take the little thrills that he can get. ]

New Amsterdam. [ he says hotly as they reach the fresh air. ] July fourth, twenty-five eleven.

[ the timeline was as of much interest as the place. and, like he deals with this all the time, he adds: ]

Don't let the date fool you, there are some inter-dimensional shenanigans afoot.

[claro]

[ Oh, okay, that's fine.

Except it totally isn't, and Marcos stops walking as soon as the year processes, and his incredulous expression gains emphasis when inter-dimensional gets dropped into the mix.

It isn't that dimensions are totally new. They come up with powers, occasionally, but that's usually when someone's trying to explain how a very specific, limited ability works; like portals, or invisibility, or whatever. There's no inter involved. Time travel isn't even that outlandish, all things considered. But that's just rumors, not waking up on July 4th, 2511. ]

Okay. Whoa. [ Not like Keanu Reeves. More like 'hold the fucking phone', very offended. ] Come on. What?

[selfimage]

[ definitely not Bill and Ted. ]

Hm? [ give him a moment, he's deciding directions. he looks left, right, and then left again, and then begins to walk in that direction to get further away from the shelter, and hopefully closer to the safehouse. he's only a little directionally challenged sometimes. ]

We've been inter-dimensionally abducted, either intentionally or unintentionally, it's really undetermined, at the moment. You haven't come so far after the first group of us were—ah—saved, I suppose?

[ he thinks about that, then: ]

What did you say your name was, again?

[claro]

[ The nonchalance is... not sure what it is, actually. Not reassuring. A little annoying. Distracting, though, which might be its own kind of comfort. A judgmental pause settles in after the question, followed by a slightly short: ]

Eclipse.

[ Now seems like an alright time for aliases. Or— real names, sort of. Depends on the mutant, though right now it's just a way to avoid dropping his legal name. ]

I'm sorry. [ As in 'excuse you', not actually 'I'm sorry'. ] What do you mean, the "first group"?

[selfimage]

Eclipse. Sounds like an alternate identity.

[ Loki repeats it with a hum in his voice. with Marcos still under the influence of the drugs, he could easily get his real name, but he doesn't. whatever reason that he's hiding it, Loki doesn't seem to care.

whatever, back subject at hand, right? ]

You're not the first to arrive from another universe. There were those of us that arrived in a far more violent fashion—it ended with guns and explosions ... quite a lot of fireworks.

I was in that group of arrivals, and now I'm here to get you.

[claro]

Sounds like.

[ A little annoyed by default, but it's also an easy confirmation that Loki's on the right track. It's hard to focus on being petty when he's trying to get past the initial shock of what's going on — if he even buys it — and actually process. ]

Why? Why not just keep your head down?

[ There are a lot of valid reasons. Generosity (unlikely), to keep things from getting messy, to build their ranks. To up their odds of figuring out what happened to them. He isn't asking because he doesn't see why they'd help; he just wants to get this guy's angle. ]

[selfimage]

[ Loki takes it as confirmation.

the second question comes and it's ... familiar. while this Eclipse fellow hits a note, Loki's unsure whether or not he means to know. if he knows who he is, and if the whole exchange is deliberate. it's both irritating and amusing. ]

You're inter-dimensionally displaced by an unknown factor in an unknown world. There's a whole thing that involves people dying and complacency drugs and whatnot ... [ Loki twists a hand in the air in a dramatic gesture. ] Then, other people show up after you. This time there's no violence, they're just ... left on a street corner.

Aside from wanting to ensure that my own cover isn't blown due to an unfortunate mistake, you could say I was curious.

[ about who arrived. about how they did it. if there was anyone he knew. ]

[claro]

[ Marcos' brows lift slightly, because... yeah, that tracks. It's more reassuring than just saying "because it's the right thing to do", which is, ironically, probably what half the Mutant Underground would say. It's probably close to what Marcos would say, if someone asked him.

That doesn't earn trust, but it does take some of the edge off. He isn't calm or exactly pleasant, and he's still distinctly moody, but he deliberately eases off on the open hostility. ]

How long? Since you were displaced. [ Annoyed, mostly at everything that word implies. He's still wrapping his head around the multiverse situation and the supposed time shift, but he doesn't have to understand it or even fully believe it to be unhappy about it. ] And what's your name?

[selfimage]

Oh, a couple weeks or so. A month? The artificial lighting really throws someone off. [ moreso, he doesn't want to think about it. ]

Don't stray close to any markets or doorways or anything, this place keeps tabs on people through neural implants, which carry a sort of identity thingie in them. You were given one too, but yours is blank right now. I could even make a rude attempt at an empty head joke, if I wanted.

[ by saying that you can make it, you're making it, Loki. ]

And I'm Loki. It's not an altnerate identity. Well met and all other appropriate extended pleasantries.

[claro]

Yeah, great. Thanks for taking the high road.

[ Sarcasm, because that was totally the same thing as making the bad joke. Are any of the mutants with the Underground this obnoxious with the newbies? Actually, is he this obnoxious? There's no way. Probably.

The mention of a chip earns the very textbook response of him lifting a hand to check for surgical scars, which would be more embarrassing if he didn't, in fact, find a surgical scar. Not great. He can feel his palms itching at the violation, though that knee-jerk response is met by a hot ache in his chest. Not much, but noticeable. He's about to investigate that when Loki says... well, Loki. ]

Seriously? Were your parents pagan or were they just mean?

[ ooc laugh track ]

[selfimage]

[ really, Loki's not the comforting type, he's the distracting type. sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. he'd rather have Marcos irritated rather than lost and depressed; so, small victories. ]

They were just mean. [ but his voice is dripping, like he has his own private joke. ] What about you? Eclipse sounds pagan—not pagan-pagan—new age, perhaps?

[claro]

[ wow who thought it was a good idea to make jokes about parents, because hey it was a terrible idea. Marcos' expression darkens, voice going flat and bitter, but he knows he started it. Not exactly fair to hold a grudge. ]

Not even close.

[ When he switches back to the big picture, it isn't quick or defensive; the topic of parents and names is just a dead one. Time to move on. He's flexing his hand as he walks, the one out of Loki's direct line of sight, trying to draw the familiar heat into it. Not much. Just something. Instead it's that same twinge in his chest, straining, a sense of panic he quickly shuts down. He sounds calm. ]

Did they do something else to us?

[selfimage]

[ Marcos you are your own worst enemy. there's just so much ammunition here. at least he's not a mean spirited person!! ]

What do you mean by something else?

[ that's a loaded question, and Loki's not unwilling to spill, but he needs a little bit more focus. ]

[claro]

[ yes lucky for marcos!!! It is a loaded question, and Marcos takes about two seconds to decide he regrets asking it. Luckily, there are about five billion other questions to change the subject with, and he doesn't try to make it subtle. ]

Nothing. You said my chip— ID, whatever, it's blank. You can fix that?

[selfimage]

Me, personally? No. The place that we're going: yes!

[ he taps the side of his temple. ]

The organization that currently houses us displacees has made it a mission to ensure that we have the identification necessary to function in New Amsterdam.

[claro]

That's convenient.

[ A little spitefully, because he's inevitably suspicious. It is totally convenient, though. ]

So where are we going? And what's this organization called?

[selfimage]

Less than convenient when they walked into it, themselves.

[ Loki clarifies that. while he has his own doubts about Morningstar, they're inevitably stuck because of their own situation. he doesn't doubt their intentions for the moment (especially not Gaby's and El's), even if he is dubious of the organization. ]

I'll tell you when we get there—I would, ah, not like to risk arrest.

[ he adds with a nice glance over his shoulder for flair. ]

[claro]

Fine.

[ He's annoyed and he's impatient, but he also isn't a complete idiot. They're out in the open, even if nobody seems to be paying them specific attention. He knows how this works. ]

How much farther?