meadowlarklogs | ARRIVAL LOG 019

ARRIVAL LOG 019

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: March 22
WHAT: The nineteenth arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy. Further notes at the end of log.

> ARRIVAL LOG #019

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. Your eyes are heavy, hard to keep open, but in the glimpses between slow, dark blinks you see two people in front of you: one dressed in a thick set of armor, while the other wears medical garb. Out the windshield in front, there are many tall buildings—all reaching up beyond a normal city skyline, all entirely too close to the vehicle itself.

You realize there are others next to you: all dressed the same way as you, you'll come to realize: in jeans, with a t-shirt bearing some kind of sports team logo. To your left there's an armored interior door, two more people visible, and 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 lowers from its height and comes to a stop inside of an alley, with tall brick walls surrounding it. The guard opposite you stands and comes to unbuckle you from the bench, helping you to your feet. Your limbs feel wooden and heavy, slow to move. One guard opens the back of the vehicle, and the air outside feels immediately warm and dry. "Careful with your step," the guard says, helping you out. The nurse helps the others out, checking over each passenger one by one.

Once outside, you'll be able to hear some noises in the distance, which after a few seconds will be recognizable as the hum of a large crowd. There will even be loud cheers here and there, as if they're spectating some kind of event.

The main guard turns to address your entire group, and something about her bearing makes it clear she's done this before. "Now, listen to me very carefully." Your body will come to attention, immediately homing in on the words that follow, as if compelled to hang on every word. "You're going to leave this alley, and then follow my directions exactly." From there, the guard will go through a list of directions, only about five steps (round the corner, turn right, etc.). "Once you've done all that, you'll see a sign: Red Wings. Go inside and you'll make some new friends. They can help with the rest."

The guard will hop back into the van, which will rise off of the ground and disappear as soon as it arrived. Once it's gone, you'll find your legs moving almost without your permission, guiding you to follow the stops the guard laid out.

And, as promised, you'll end up outside a bar called the Red Wings.

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 – and that includes the message passed on from the mysterious patron.

> RED WINGS

The message from El comes the same as usual: insistent, not waiting for any active attempt to open it. Scrolling within your vision as if being written while you're reading it.

Well, some of you are going to have a group of newbies to bartend. Our newest group just got directed to the Red Wings. If anyone else wants to swing by to help get them oriented and move them to the safehouse, I'm guessing the people who are on the clock will thank you.

The Red Wings bar is in a section of the large, futuristic city that houses a sports stadium, though not so close to it that the newcomers will have to deal with dodging crowds. Red Wings is tucked away on a side street, meaning that those stumbling in won't have to worry about attracting too much attention.

Why did they get directed to a sports bar, of all places? That will become clear as soon as they start to speak to the people inside. This arrival, as it turns out, is a little different from the ones that have come before.

◉ Aesthetically, Red Wings is a retro tribute to the lost city of Detroit. It's all red neon, cars and sports memorabilia, with all fittings and decor elements physical where possible as a nod to the era. There is also some artwork dedicated to Motown and its significance within the city, and there is a section of the digital sound system for Motown.

◉ The main area is spacious, with stools at the bar and plenty of room for booths and standing space. One area is reserved for the physical darts board and pool table, which are permanent installations.

◉ There is also a function room available for private bookings and smaller events, though this is currently not quite as nicely done up as the main space.

◉ The bar has multiple neural interface screens installed throughout to make sure there's always an easy view of the game, with one larger screen set up over the bar itself for Big Game days. Unfortunately, this won't be available to the newcomers as they don't have their neural implants set up yet, but they'll be able to gather that the other people here seem to be watching a screen they can't see.

◉ Drinks include a range of the finest craft beers, popular spirits and a basic cocktail menu, but newbies won't have any money to their name just yet, so they'll have to rely on the kindness of strangers if they want something to eat or drink.

◉ Naturally, there will be some people working at the bar and others who are just there to hang out, but either way the newcomers should have plenty of people on-hand to explain the situation. With more on the way, potentially.

Further details about Red Wings and the staff can be found at this post put together by our Stephen Strange player, as he's one of the owners of the bar! Most of the information above was borrowed from this post.

Once the new characters have been oriented and calmed down as needed, they'll all be escorted by one of the established Displaced back to the safehouse. This is done for security and safety reasons.

> NEW AMSTERDAM (AND BEYOND)

Once the new Displaced have endured their four days in the safehouse, they'll have their IDs set up and will be released in this strange new world. New Amsterdam will be theirs to explore, and if they manage to get the lowdown from another Displaced who's been here longer, they may learn that they can travel even further than that.

Probably better to not get ahead of themselves, right? New Amsterdam has plenty to offer!

◉ It's Opening Day for the New Amsterdam Koniki (New Amsterdam's baseball team)! Despite the signings of the aces Jim Bridges and Osamu Kawakami, the Opening Day starter is long-time Koniki, Connor Tseng. Tseng is a finesse pitcher who's been with the Koniki through good and bad (and for the past few seasons, it's been a lot of bad). Never overpowering batters with a crazy fastball, Tseng hits his spots and is the master of the off-speed pitch. There are a mess of articles on the sports blog circuit about what message the Koniki are sending in having Tseng start the 2512 season, but most agree that it's a message to Tseng that he's still the team's leader. Bridges and Kawakami are undoubtedly more explosive, but these signings are clearly meant to build a team around their long-time ace.

Tickets to get into the Koniki's first game will be difficult to come by, selling for five and ten times too much on reseller sites. The savvy baseball fan knows that the stadium will be sold out, however, and can grab a short-term, one-day-only job to help meet the demands of Opening Day. And for anyone who's curious about the game but doesn't want to work at the stadium, it will definitely be broadcasted at Red Wings and plenty of other sports bars around the city.

The game itself will be a pitcher's duel for the first five innings between Tseng and the New Venice Gecko's ace, Jayson Soto. During the bottom of the fifth inning, rookie slugger Jiri Kim will hit a three-run homer, putting the Koniki up. Rather dramatically, the Geckos will come back in the top of the sixth, tying up the game and running Tseng off the mound. Both the Geckos and the Koniki will try to shore up the game via their bullpens. Ultimately, the Koniki will win in the bottom of the 10th inning in a walk-off fashion, with Kim hitting another home run to call it. The defense throughout the game is a mess for the Koniki, showing signs that even their new aces may struggle with that defensive backdrop.

Finally: yes, there is a designated hitter to protect pitchers.

◉ St. Patrick's Day is here! While the typical aspects of the holiday still exist, such as drinking a lot (and yes, alcohol and other drinks will be dyed green!) and getting pinched if you don't wear green, this day is also a time to remember the country of Ireland that's now under the Atlantic Ocean. The primary focus for New Amsterdam citizens is remembering the parts of Europe that were lost to the effects of climate change and the disaster of World War III.

So while there's plenty of merrymaking at various pubs, there are also neighborhood memorials set up for remembrance. There will be plenty of media coverage about this too, giving anyone new to this world a very immediate idea of the state that it's in, with a good portion of western Europe underwater.

◉ It's spring, which oddly means that fertility symbols begin to spring up around the city. They can take the form of actual symbols etched or painted onto walls, though there are also carved figurines and phallic shapes scattered around as well. (Feel free to browse here if you need ideas.)

◉ While these can be found at random around the city, they will also be associated with the shrines dedicated to the Displaced which have existed in New Amsterdam for some time now. These shrines are continuously taken down and put back up in different parts of the city. The NAPD as well as private interests seem intent on removing them for profit or controlling vandalism. Despite continuous efforts on both of their behalfs, these shrines continue to rise in number. There seems to be a cluster of them that get closer and closer to Red Wings. Candles and small offerings (flowers, dressings, and hand-made jewelry from wood and plants) can occasionally be seen near them.

◉ There will also be small spring gatherings held in parks where people will be happy to share their food and enjoy the new plants that have sprung up throughout the city. (Assuming that your allergies aren't being set off, anyway!) The Displaced are welcome to attend!

◉ On a more somber and serious note, non-violent protests have begun to spring up around the city in response to the situation on Mars. The people working on the Mars colony have been mistreated and forced into horrible conditions, and it seems more and more likely that the government is trying to keep that quiet and act as if things are better when they're really not. The protests are kept small in number by design, mainly because the people involved don't want to get immediately shut down by the NAPD -- or worse, have the UNA step in. They mainly take the form of people standing outside of campaign offices, though instead of handwritten signs, they're able to project digital versions with their implants.

Some NPC members of Morningstar who recently relocated to New Amsterdam will be involved in these protests as well. Any characters who feel strongly about this issue, want to learn more if they're new and uninformed, or who are simply interested in getting to know other Morningstar members better should feel free to participate. (Note: While we won't be able to thread out NPC interactions, feel free to use the questions thread below to discuss with us how your character would be received by these NPCs if you're interested in that!)

> SAFEHOUSE

Located under an abandoned hover-bike garage, access to the safehouse is a hatch in the floor beside a rusted set of metal shelves that used to hold tools and supplies. The immediate area is similarly abandoned: full of rundown and dilapidated warehouses and forgotten businesses, where numerous people squat in hopes of having some stability because they can't afford a place themselves. Gaby will be around, ready to greet as many of the new arrivals as she can and get them settled in. Brusque and no-nonsense, she'll be open to questions, but will advise the newcomers to ask the people who brought them in for the beginning bits of information. Newbies can also contact El through zeir inbox, if needed.

The safehouse is a large space with multiple rooms for storage, with the largest of the rooms 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 is a mini-bar set up in the kitchen. The quality of the alcohol inside is akin to what someone might get from the well at a bar, but it's well-stocked. There will also be some dye set within reach of the mini-bar for anyone looking for some Irish cheer to add to their beverages. This is courtesy of Gaby, as per usual!

◉ While the kitchen has basic foods and necessities, anyone looking for a jolt of caffeine from coffee or tea will find themselves sorely lacking. The only tea present is herbal in nature, and caffeine appears to be almost nonexistent in most of the beverages lying around.

◉ Gaby will make it clear to all new arrivals that if they have any requests or queries, they should contact her or El. Either she or El will explain that they've been given a modest stipend of credits to help them get by until they can find a job. This will be enough to cover their living expenses for about a month while they hang out in the safehouse, if they're careful with budgeting.

◉ 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 do not have access to the internet until their ID is setup. They only have limited access because they're present in the safehouse, but they can't surf the rest of the internet, check out Cooltalk, or watch the equivalent of Netflix until their ID is made.

◉ New characters cannot leave the safehouse at this time. The hatch is locked tight for them, making it impossible for them to get out for the next four days while they're locked inside. There won't be any immediately obvious ways to cut their way out through turning off the power.

◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until MARCH 26 ICLY (MARCH 23 OOCLY). 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

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 MARCH 26 ICLY (MARCH 23 OOCLY). 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, 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 March calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month, as well as some additional notes from the mods.

Something else to keep in mind is that on Monday, March 16th we'll be putting up a Metaplot Engagement Post, which will have a focus on how to integrate all players into the metaplot as well as take suggestions on future events and the direction you'd like the game to go. This will be open to everyone in-game, old players and new players alike, so please keep an eye out for it!

As we announced here, AC will be check-in only this month due to the state of the world right now. If you've taken a hiatus, this counts as your check-in, but otherwise please feel free to relax for the rest of the month. In addition, the HMD will be moved to next month. New players accepted in March will only have to submit 10 comments across 2-4 threads for the April 2020 AC (which goes up on May 1, 2020).

> NAVIGATION

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I wanted one.

[Her smile thins out a little, a little tired, a little depreciating. Ginia busies herself by checking the length of the spliced rope, checking it against the length of the room. Needs versus wants, easy things to mix up. Most times it feels like Ginia is still trying to sort things out.]

It's come in handy, but I've gotten more mileage out of my power.

[The shield worked well for holding Caroline back when she tried to make a snack of her. On the other hand, she didn't raise baton or shield after Ephemera attacked her. Maybe it would have changed things. Maybe the outcome was inevitable. Ginia pushes the thought away and keeps her expression even.]

Want to see it?

[ To Maine, the difference between needing a weapon and wanting one is plain. If there's a threat that requires more than brute strength, a weapon is a need. Otherwise, it's a want. It's a distinction muddier than defense versus offense, but in Maine's experience, it mostly amounts to the same.

Maybe Angela wanted to be prepared for any future threats. Maybe she wanted to inflict pain. He can't read her mind by the change in her expression, and he doesn't ask. Doesn't judge, either. He's been on both sides of it, and he isn't ashamed.

He's not quite sure if she's asking whether he wants to see the weapon or the power, but he's curious either way. Gives her a nod in answer, then steps back slightly. It might look like he's wary, but his body language is relaxed: he's just giving her space. ]

Edited 2020-03-15 01:10 (UTC)

[Ginia needs a little bit of space so him stepping back works out fine for her. There's an almost lazy swipe of her hand as a clear wall appears between them, a blue glow emanating from her chest.]

Feel free to touch it.

The wall is six feet across, eight feet tall. Solid to the touch, almost a little cool. Despite having no supports on the side, it doesn't wobble or move from anything but the hardest impacts. It's effectively a sheet of bulletproof glass dropped in place.

There's a bit of a pleased smile on Ginia. It's a nice power.]

[ It says something about what Maine is accustomed to that he doesn't leap back or gasp in surprise. He raises his eyebrows and looks the transparent wall up and down. Reaches out when Angela gives him permission, laying his palm flat upon it. It feels solid. Like there's an actual wall where there was nothing before.

He gives it a little push; it holds. Knocks the back of his fist against it like he's rapping firmly on a door; it still holds. ]

Nice.

[ His tone says far more than the word. He sounds impressed. ]

How strong is it?

It'll hold up against most physical hits. Impact damage like a hammer dents it. It'll stop a bullet, but sustained fire or higher calibers will break it. Haven't seen if it could stop a vehicle.

[Her signs are rattled off matter-of-fact, no underselling or exaggeration to be found. It's the kind of ability that's useful to the right people and by extension, makes her useful.

Perhaps it's also telling, though the link between ones power and personality isn't stated in the guide. People can come to their own conclusions about who she is and what she can do.]

I can set it horizontally too, it'll hold weight. I can't get too far from it though.

[She considers his muscles and grins a bit.]

Give it a few hits if you want. You look solid, I'm curious how it'll hold.

[If he does take a shot or a few, it'll stand up to the blows. Like real bulletproof glass, it'll absorb the blows and bend before breaking, far more likely to hurt him first.]

[ It's a damn useful power, for sure. Sounds like Angela's utilized it quite a bit. Impressive as it is, it's not a power that Maine thinks he'd want. It'd be helpful, of course, but he doubts he'd use it much in a fight. Too defensive. Too much like retreating. Unless Angela can use it to ram things…

He's pulled from his thoughts when she suggests he take a swing at it. He snorts and presses his fingertips against the cool surface, noting again how solid it feels. Might hurt his hands. But then, his hands are used to that.

He shrugs a shoulder and nods, a wordless, "Sure." Then he steps back slightly and throws a punch.

There are a few things Angela might notice. The first: Maine has clearly been trained and knows how to throw a punch. The second: he's holding back. The third: the blow still hits hard enough to knock someone out.

When the shield doesn't shatter, Maine loosens up a bit. Hits it a few more times, harder than the first. He never puts anything close to his full strength behind it: he doesn't want to injure himself or risk smashing through and striking Angela. However, they're still solid blows; when he lowers his fists, he looks impressed. ]

[If that's him holding back, Ginia knows she doesn't want to be on the receiving end of a punch. Someone's trained him well. Maybe he's modded up in some way too. by appearances alone, he's someone ideal version of a supersoldier. But sometime size and muscle are purely natural. Sometimes someone wins the genetic lottery.

Does he have trouble bumping his knees against things? His height makes it seem like that would a common problem.

Ginia grins when he lowers his fists. She dismisses the barrier with a thought, the glow from her chest vanishing.]

I definitely don't want to get in a fight with you. I bet trucks hit like you.

[ Maine snorts a laugh, lips curling up slightly in a smile. He's proud of his body. Proud of the work he's put into it; proud of the weapon he's created. It's taken years of unrelenting discipline to reach this point, and he's (finally) satisfied with the results.

He rolls a shoulder in a half-shrug, the smile still lingering. ]

Big guy.

[ It may sound like an understatement, but it's how Maine views himself. He's not "massive" or "giant"; he's just big. ]

Shield's good. [ "Shield," not wall or even power. Subconsciously equating it to an armor enhancement used by a teammate. ] Versatile.

[He's got a good smile. Ginia can better handle a big guy with some sense of manners and who knows how to smile. Substance under all the mass. She idly wonders if anyone calls him Tiny as an ironic nickname.]

It's helped out. I can't say I'm unhappy with what I ended up.

[Ginia gestures up at the rope dangling above them.]

You mind splicing the rope to the lead I have running above? I'm going to grab a stepladder and begin setting more anchors.

[ That Angela is happy with the shield is significant, just as Maine knows it's significant that he wouldn't be happy with it. He makes a mental note of that. Adds it to the list that includes how long Angela's been here, her willingness to help, and her desire to be better than she is. He doesn't draw any conclusions or make any assumptions: he just takes note.

Actions say a hell of a lot more than words. And it typically takes a while for someone's actions to add up.

He nods when she asks him to resume splicing. Takes up the rope, finds the end of the lead, and gets to work. It's not difficult; he's so tall that it's barely a reach. One of the advantages of being his size. ]

[The work goes faster with other people, especially with someone as tall as Jónsson. It leaves her free to set more anchor points in the ceiling and set up lines for eventually when she runs curtains perpendicular to the room. It's a multi-step process, but it's something to keep busy with, a way to stop the struggle of feeling adrift.

Ginia isn't normally one for small talk, but there's a question on her mind. After several minutes of silence, she snaps and waves her hands to get his attention.]

What was the other place you were from like?

[ It doesn't take much effort to get Maine's attention. He can be incredibly intense in his focus, and, in certain circumstances, he can become so intent on a goal that it's like he has blinders on. This isn't one of those circumstances. He's aware of Angela's movements, just as he's alert to any unusual sounds around them. Readiness rather than paranoia.

But although Maine sees Angela's signs, he doesn't answer immediately. He grunts in acknowledgment and presses his lips together, thinking. Considering what to say — or rather, how much to say.

There's a simple way to describe the station. However, he's not sure he wants to get into the specifics, even in the broadest sense. Feels like it'd be opening up a can of worms. So, after a few moments, he decides not to mention what permeated the place. ]

Space station. Fancy, but couldn't leave. We were entertainment.

[The word entertainment speaks volumes. There's a slight chill down her spine because she knows well what it's like to be entertainment for others. She won't presume too much - certainly won't pry - but there are some broad assumptions that aren't hard to make. He is incredibly well built and strong. Attractive, she supposes.]

I'm sorry.

[She's signed that a lot lately in response to the stories she's heard. Meant it every time even if it feels lacking.]

That must have been difficult.

[ "I'm sorry," Angela signs, and Maine is immediately glad he didn't go into detail. It's not that he's bothered by the sympathy: he just doesn't know how to handle it. He's accustomed to people seeing him as something to fear, not empathize with. Accustomed to being looked at as a weapon, not a person. So he shrugs again — the motion appearing more awkward than dismissive — and gives the rope a gentle pull. Checking to ensure his splice will hold. ]

Could've been worse.

[ Had been worse, sometimes. He made it through, never crumbling no matter what the station threw at him. He survived. He always survives. ]

Didn't do this. [ He gestures around them, indicating the safehouse at large. The captivity that rankles, no matter how necessary it may be. ] Didn't have to hide.

Edited (typo!) 2020-03-18 03:57 (UTC)

[Things can always be worse. That was the lesson Ginia spent most of her life learning. People can always be worse, people can always creative. And though she's survived it, sometimes she wonders at what cost. Wonders about the person she could have been if she didn't have to slice off parts of herself to survive.

Maybe she didn't really survive at all. Right now she's feel like she's barely keeping afloat again.]

It's easier to hide than you think out there.

[Hiding in plain sight, story of her life. He's definitely going to draw attention, no avoiding that. But having to hide in any capacity is different than not having to hide at all.]

But I guess not having to hide makes a difference too. Not having to pretend to be someone else.

[ Hiding has always been a challenge for Maine. He's a private person by nature, and he hides things about himself with ease. But hiding physically? That's difficult. He's too big. Too imposing. Draws too many eyes, even when he distances himself by standing at the edges of groups.

The voice of a former teammate whispers in his mind:

"Subtle as always."

He doesn't let the flash of annoyance show. It's not directed at Angela. All he does is raise an eyebrow in a silent question: "Really?" ]

Does. No privacy, but still you.

[ No need to take up an alias like "August Jónsson." ]

[Still you. For some, maybe. Ginia has a feeling if she ended up on a space station where she was someone's entertainment, she'd probably be "Angela Roberts" there too. But maybe she's woven too much of herself into Angela too. She's glad every day people don't look too close, wonders if it's a matter of time before it all falls apart.

Focus. Keep the growing cynicism at bay. Keep calm and keep smiling and no one will know.]

The safehouse isn't that private, but... [She gestures at the setup they're working on and shrugs.] Outside? Housing is pretty decent. It's easier rooming with someone, but there are various options at different price points. Depends on what you want.

[ Once again, Maine doesn't answer immediately. He hums in acknowledgment, then takes up the rope and begins running it to the first anchor point. Keeping his body moving while he considers Angela's words. Considers his options.

Before he arrived on the station, Maine lived the entirety of his adult life in military housing. He didn't have options. Didn't have choices. Whether it was a cabin, a cryo-chamber, or a hole in the ground, he slept where he was told. The first place he actually chose for himself was the upgraded cabin back on the station. First roommate he chose was…

He shakes off the thought. Brings himself back to the present. ]

Used to military housing.

[ Which isn't an indicator of what he wants. But what he wants, he doesn't know if he can have. ]

Then you'll have plenty of options to work with.

[Someone okay with communal living and some lockers is going to have more options than someone who wants a bedroom or apartment to themselves. It might mean he can move out sooner, though he's probably not bothered by the current situation either.]

Give any thought what you want to do for a job?

[ That gets a light snort of amusement. A job. Shit. Maine hasn't had to think about money in years. Raked it in on the station, making far more than he knew how to spend. Before that, he was paid to follow orders and fight. And before that, he was still a child.

What does he want to do for a job? He has no idea. ]

Security's easy.

[ Said with a little shrug. Easy to get work, looking like he does. Easy to perform the job, too. It'll do. ]

There's a bar owned by the Displaced that's always hiring. I work security there, it's pretty well-behaved, but it's easy money. There are warehouses and docks looking for security or labor.

And if you like fighting, there are fight clubs around that pay well, though most aren't on the up and up.

[There's no doubt Jónsson can fight, but wanting to fight and liking to fight are different things in Ginia's mind. She could make a killing in the fight clubs with her skills, but it's not something she enjoys either.]

[ Whether or not Maine likes to fight is mostly irrelevant in his eyes. Fighting is what he does. What he's built himself to do. He's chosen a life of combat in ways both superficial and permanent. If fighting for money is an option, it makes sense to take it.

But he's curious about the bar she mentioned. Tilts his head to the side as he asks, ]

Red Wings?

[ It's the bar to which he was sent when he woke up here. The one he walked into as though he had no will of his own. ]

Edited 2020-03-19 01:54 (UTC)

That's the one.

[That it was the pickup point for this batch is strange, to say the least. Ginia was busy getting the place in order and figured enough would be there to direct people to the safehouse. Which is maybe ironic given there's a safehouse under Red Wings too, but that one isn't as set up.]

Hey, do you remember anything about being dropped off? The people that took you or directed you there?

[ That it's the same bar immediately negates it as a potential place of employment in Maine's mind. He doesn't know what connection, if any, there is between the bar and the people in that van, but he wants no part of it. Not unless he's truly desperate, which he doubts will happen.

He presses his lips together, considering Angela's question. Tamping down the emotions that threaten to well up when he remembers the compulsion. ]

A medic. Several armored guards. [ Not the armor that Maine knows and loves, but still armor. He can't recall the exact number of guards. ] Separated from driver. Door was armored.

One guard gave orders. Had to obey. [ He says it flatly, refusing to let his feelings color his tone. ] She seemed experienced.

[Ginia's brows furrow at the mention of several guards. She only remembers the one woman in armor, and the medic. Maybe something happened, maybe they're being more careful. The group doesn't seem as big as the one she arrived in, but maybe they're spooked.]

That sounds about the same as when I arrived. There was a woman in black armor giving orders too.

[Her expression shifts to something understanding, something a little angry.]

Compulsion drugs too. Did she say anything about looking for the glow?

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bloodbathing - 2020-03-20 10:13 (UTC) - Expand

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unlucky7 - 2020-03-20 15:50 (UTC) - Expand

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